Laughing All The Way (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Saturday, December 14th
"Feel led to keep a diary. A sort of spiritual log for the benefit of others in the future. Each new divine insight and experience will shine like a beacon in the darkness!

Can't think of anything to put in today.

Still, tomorrow's Sunday. Must be something on a Sunday, surely?"
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That's how The Sacred Diary of Adrian Plass, Aged 37 and 3/4 opens. Plass uses the diary entries to show us the earnest-but-often-silly choices of his fictional persona, and the consequences, which are their own hilarity. He skewers the foibles we church goers and God followers can sometimes exhibit, often despite of, and sometimes because of our best efforts.

It is one of the funniest things I've read, and I find myself laughing out loud on almost every page.

I make it a point to re-read the Diary every December. Yes, that's partly because a good rolling guffaw can sometimes be hard to come by. But more importantly, reading it reminds me not to take myself so seriously. It always pulls me back to the main things, the most important parts of my faith journey in this life. That kind of centering readies me for the coming new year.

December is a time when we tend to look forward, organizing for the future. That's what the sacred diarist is doing by starting in December. It is also, perhaps, the time we take stock of the year ending. I say, "perhaps," because we can easily get caught up in our planning for the new year, all the celebrations, our pledges toward improvement, etc. In the midst of all that excitement and forward orientation, we can overlook something important: beginnings imply endings. The "something new" usually replaces "something old." There's a reason we greet the new year with celebration. And it's not just because we're looking forward to all that potential. Truth be told, there's plenty we're happy about letting go.

Sometimes, we're just really ready to have the past behind us, to let the past be past.

And that brings me to the passage from Luke featured in the Lectionary this Christmas. It tells the story we all know: Mary and Joseph traveling to Bethlehem where Jesus is born, the shepherds encountering angelic heralds, and, after coming to see Jesus, those shepherds going all about telling everyone what they saw and heard that night.

It was a celebratory event. And, at least on the surface, it's was all about the new thing that was happening. But, even though it was not part of the announcement, things were also ending. It's likely none of the folks involved in that night of nights actually thought about what was coming to an end.

That's the nature of beginnings: they mark the ending of something, whether anyone recognizes that fact or not. The birth of Jesus marks the end of how God had been relating to humans. The Law was being superseded by grace. The birth ushered in the age where all people who chose to follow the Son would become priests, able to boldly enter God's throne room, no longer having to wait until someone did so on their behalf.

The event is thick with irony: that a baby ---born among the animals, laid in a food trough, worshiped by scruffy shepherds--- ended the old way on His way to actually being the new way.

So as we end this year and look forward to the new one, the events of that holy night teach us to embrace both the endings and beginnings as we transit the calendar. If we find we can laugh at ourselves in the process, that's a good thing. And if things get a little ironic along the way, that's OK, too.

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CAVEAT: Not everyone appreciates Mr. Plass' humor. While there are millions of folk who have purchased, and cherish, his books, there are a few folks out there who take offense at the fun he pokes at believers. If you think you might be one of those people, then spare yourself the aggravation.

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Lectionary Readings for Christmas 2016

There are multiple options for Christmas readings in this year's Lectionary. I am using Proper I, but you should read the group that you are drawn to. Here is the link to the table of Christmas Lectionary readings: http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/lections.php?year=A&season=Christmas

Proper I
Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14, (15-20)

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I hope you will have opportunity to join us at Lectionary Breakfast. We are still meeting Friday mornings at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant at 8:00 and we still wrap things up around 9:00.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas as we pause to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Steve

An Unfinished Christmas (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I’m not certain which Christmas this was, but certainly no later than my first year in school. The vagaries of memory prevent me from being sure. Still, imperfect or not, I recall much about that season.

For example, I remember my mother taking my sister and me downtown so we could watch the parade the Saturday before Christmas. I have the clearest mental picture of getting out of the car and looking up to see my Dad happily waving to us from the third story window of his office (he was a Chiropractor in those days) near the corner of 7th and Broadway. We felt so special to be able to watch everything from so far above everyone else. And, I remember the passing of Santa’s sleigh at some point, and the man himself pointing up at us, and waving, as we leaned as far out that window as adults would allow.

The most enduring memory of that season comes a few nights later. We went for our annual Christmas shopping night in downtown Paducah. My parents dressed us carefully (both for appearance and the weather), and put on their good clothes, as well. My Dad wore a suit and tie; my Mother wore a dress usually reserved for work (she was an operator at the phone company). This was a time, long gone now, when people dressed up when they went about in public. We went to Paducah Dry Goods Store; four stories of merchandise that, today, might occupy a shopping mall, a sort of midwest version of Macy's.

Paducah Dry Goods was located at the corner of 4th and Broadway, undoubtedly the coldest corner in Paducah. Because of the way Paducah was positioned against the confluence of the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers, both 4th Street and Broadway brought cold air up from the rivers to chill us as we disembarked from the car. Dad, being a good Dad, dropped the three of us off at the store, parked the car a few blocks away, and then rejoined us inside the store. My parents, being parents, forced us to endure shopping on each floor in turn; making our way with agonizing slowness toward all that really mattered: the fourth floor, location of toys and home of Santa’s red velvet throne.

[The first time I saw “A Christmas Story” (based on Jean Shepherd’s delightful semi-autobiographical stories), I was struck by how familiar it all seemed. And the more I watched the movie, the more that thought was confirmed. The locations in the film looked exactly like those I grew up around. The school could easily be the one I attended as a child. Ralphie’s house was a great deal like some my relatives lived in: the yard walls and fences, the out-buildings behind the houses, the streets, the neighborhoods, even the store in which Ralphie begged Santa for his BB gun. It was Paducah Dry Goods all over again!]

The highlight of this Christmastime memory is sitting on Santa’s lap and telling him something, though I can't recall what, and realizing that his beard was real. That beard convinced me he was the real thing (and I had always been a bit skeptical, even at that tender age).

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, but was probably no longer than an hour—after all, we were small children—my parents bundled us up and moved us down four floors and to the front of the store. Things get a little hazy after that. I have a vibrant memory of my Mother holding my hand as the three of us stood on the curb waiting for my Dad to return with the car, to pick us up and drive us home. I remember waiting to the point that I was actually cold.

My Dad never returned that night.

And, in my memory, that is the end; the three of us standing there, getting colder . . . watching, waiting, wondering . . . an unfinished Christmas.

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Of course, there's more to this memoir. But what if there wasn't? What if that was all we would ever know? How strange to know there must be more, but be unable to know how things turned out.

That, partly, is what's going on in this week's Lectionary selection from Isaiah. God tells King Ahaz that when the Messiah arrives, someday, the nation would still be there, that He would live a normal childhood; in short, Ahaz need not worry about the nations aligned against Israel. God was not going to let their plans succeed.

It must have seemed odd to hear the part about the virgin conceiving a son whose name would mean "God with us" . . . and then . . . nothing.

Ahaz lived and died without ever experiencing the fulfillment of that prophecy.

This is what it was like for all the people of Israel year in and year out, century after century, as they waited for the Messiah, waited to learn the rest of the story. All they had heard was the beginning. Prophet after Prophet delivered a cliff-hanger, but never finished the story.

Watching ... waiting ... wondering ...

An unfinished Christmas, indeed.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fourth Sunday of Advent (December 18, 2016)
First reading
Isaiah 7:10-16
Psalm
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
Second reading
Romans 1:1-7
Gospel
Matthew 1:18-25

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I hope you can join us for Lectionary Breakfast Friday morning. We meet at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant. We start at 8:00 and wrap it up around 9:00. I keep saying it's an hour like no other, and each time we meet I am confirmed in that thought; scripture, discussion, laughter ... where do you find all that?

If you don't see us, ask at the Hostess stand. We're somewhere in the back. We won't keep you waiting.

Blessings,
Steve

The Complaint Department - Redux (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

The complaints came pouring in.

One of the first challenges I faced as a newly selected church leader was what to do about complaints. It surprised me how many people felt comfortable complaining to me about other members of our congregation.

This was several years ago and my first time to serve as a church leader. Being new and inexperienced, I felt the need to patiently listen to these complainers, thinking that their confiding in me indicated their confidence in me; meant, perhaps, I needed to do some "leading" or something.

One day, though, I came across an interesting scripture in my Bible reading that completely changed how I thought about the complainers in our flock (and, after visiting with the Pastor about the matter, it completely changed how I responded to their complaints).

That scripture is among this week's Lectionary selections; the James passage. Take a break, here, and go read it. Then, come back and see if you agree with my conclusion.

What I see here is a clear link between patience and not complaining, and then a clear link between complaining and being judged (negatively) by God.

As we continue into the Advent season, it seems to me taking some time to think about our relationships with other believers is spot on.

What do you think? How can each of us ensure that we, ourselves, don't complain about our brothers and sisters? Write and let me know your thoughts on this. Your comments are welcome.

[A slightly different version of this reflection appeared in December 2013]
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Third Sunday of Advent (December 11, 2016)
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

First reading
Isaiah 35:1-10
Psalm
Psalm 146:5-10 or Luke 1:46b-55
Second reading
James 5:7-10
Gospel
Matthew 11:2-11
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More of this great stuff can be found at Lectionary Breakfast each Friday morning. We gather at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I," eat some good food, enjoy each other's company, discuss some scripture, and we're out by 9:00-ish.

Come a little early, stay a little late. No one will complain.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

Hey, Ninety Eight Point Six ... (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

One of the many interesting things about living in this world is the almost overwhelming amount of stuff we believe to be true that is, in fact, not true.

Do you remember "98.6" from the late 1960s? It was originally recorded by Keith; his version sold over a million copies and climbed to #7 on the Billboard chart. Or maybe you heard the Lesley Gore cover when she sang it as a medley with "Lazy Day." It still plays on the Oldies stations.

Its catchy tune and easy lyrics make for a very singable experience. It's essentially a love song about a person being very happy to have his/her love (the 98.6 in the lyrics) back. What the song title and lyrics are referencing is what is universally considered to be the normal body temperature of a healthy human. Everyone who heard the song understood that particular reference.

There's just one problem: it's not true.

We are taught from our youth that 98.6 is the "normal" body temperature; that one degree higher should be considered as an indicator of possible illness. Two degrees higher and we're looking at a real fever. Get out the meds.

But, the truth is that 98.6 is just a number representing an average "normal" temperature. Humans are unique; no one of us is exactly like any other of us. My normal body temp is 97.0. In my case, a temperature reading of 98.6 might be cause for some alarm ... if not for that pesky and persistent belief, even among the medically trained, that it is normal.*

But that's just one example. One of the other supposed truths is that, in the Bible, the Old Testament (OT) is not as important as the New Testament (NT).

Now, that's not a crazy conclusion for someone to make. If you are a christian, the NT is rich in value; ranging from how to become a christian, to how to live as one, to how to get along with other people who are trying to do the same thing, to how to live among people who do not believe as you do. With all that crammed into the NT, it is understandable that some might downplay the value of the books that preceded it.

That, however, would be a mistake.

When I was a young adult, I heard a preacher say, "If you don't see Jesus on every page of the Bible, you're reading it wrong." This was completely counter to what I had been raised to believe: i.e., that the OT was useful, primarily, as a place we could go to understand Jewish history. I'm not sure I completely agree with that preacher's statement, but at the time it was a galvanizing charge for me. I found myself reading through the OT, de novo (roughly: "from the beginning with fresh eyes").

Pretty quickly, I began to see what that preacher was getting at; there is a massive amount of OT scripture that relates to Jesus and the purpose of His incarnation. Did you know that in His teachings, Jesus quoted Deuteronomy more than any other scripture? I know: it surprised me as well.

This kind of OT/NT linkage is well represented in this week's Lectionary passage from Romans. I recommend you read those 10 verses and consider what Paul is saying to the believers in Rome. Remember, they only had what we call the OT; the NT was yet to be assembled, and much of it had not even been written at that point. Paul's message to them is a message for us, as well.

So, whatever your "normal" body temperature, you can spend time reading all of scripture, with the expectation that God has something for you there.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday of Advent (December 4, 2016)
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Isaiah 11:1-10
Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
Romans 15:4-13
Matthew 3:1-12

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I hope you can join us Friday morning for Lectionary Breakfast. We still gather at 8:00 for an exceptional hour. We visit, eat, read scripture, and engage in a "robust exchange of ideas."

Nothing "normal" about it.

Blessings,
Steve

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* There are several books written about the uniqueness of each and every human. My favorite is "You are Extraordinary" by Roger J. Williams. In it he states, "If we continue to try to solve problems on the basis of the average man, we will be continuously in a muddle, because the concept of 'the average man" is a muddle. Such a man does not exist." You can peruse it at Amazon.com.