A Moveable Feast (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

In 1956, after the better part of three decades, Ernest Hemingway finally found his treasure.

According to A. E. Hotchner, Hemingway's friend and biographer, the two of them had been invited to lunch at the Paris Ritz by the Hotel's Chairman, Charley Ritz. While they ate, Ritz wondered if Hemingway knew he had a trunk stored in the hotel's basement, noting that it had been there since 1930. Hemingway was both surprised and pleased by the news. His friend, Louis Vuitton, had specially made that trunk for Hemingway in the 1920's, but the writer had lost track of it.

After lunch, Ritz had the trunk brought up to his office. Hemingway sifted through clothes, menus, receipts, memos, hunting and fishing paraphernalia, skiing equipment, racing forms, and correspondence. Then, at the bottom, he found the treasure: two stacks of notebooks, the kind school children used in the 1920's.

The notebooks were filled with his commentary on the places, the people, and the events of his life during his time in Paris. He had lived in near poverty in 1920's Paris, but he had known the people whose ideas and artistic expressions changed the world of "the lost generation." Among those described in his commentaries were F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Alice B. Toklas, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, and Aleister Crowley, to name only a few.

If you want to get a sense of this heady period, watch the film, Midnight in Paris.

Hemingway eventually had his notebooks transcribed and then organized them into a book entitled, A Moveable Feast. The book was his memoir of those years and those people as he knew them. The title of the book comes from a comment Hemingway made to a friend n 1950: "If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a movable feast."

After carefully preserving his thoughts, writing almost daily his observations of his life and those who shared it, Hemingway lost them all. He searched for those notebooks for years, decades.

This week's Lectionary scriptures are about a different kind of moveable feast. Using such phrases as "delight yourselves in rich food (Isaiah 55:2)," and "My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast (Psalm 63:5)," this week's scriptures capture the reality of eating the spiritual food God has prepared for us. We are enjoined to not lose our way; to not partake of the "same spiritual food" and the "same spiritual drink" as the Israelites in the wilderness (I Corinthians 10:3-4) while yet forgetting their true source. And finally, we are warned of the perils of not producing our portion of that moveable feast in the parable of the fruitless fig tree (Luke 13:6-9).

Hemingway lost his moveable feast for a time. And then one day, as with most lost things, he found them right where he had left them. Our moveable feast is right where it's been all our lives. We need only return to it.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/
Third Sunday in Lent (February 28, 2016)
First reading
Isaiah 55:1-9
Psalm
Psalm 63:1-8
Second reading
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Gospel
Luke 13:1-9
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Join us for a feast Friday mornings at Lectionary Breakfast. As usual, we meet at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant at 8:00 for an hour like no other. We feast on food, we feast on God's word, and we feast on fellowship. And when we leave, part of those feasts moves with us, out into the day, the week, and the lives of those we meet.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

Strike While the Iron is Hot (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

We were walking through the Permian Basin Petroleum Museum when I realized I had no idea what "strike while the iron is hot" actually meant.

The Permian Basin is a sizable chunk of west Texas that used to be under an ocean. Hence the "basin" part of the name. That ocean was there during the Permian period, a portion of the Paleolithic era occurring from about 280 to 230 million years ago. It's a geologic gem.

But for today's purposes: it's oil country, a landscape dotted with drilling rigs and pump jacks. And it's an ideal location for a museum dedicated to the history of petroleum and the industry that sprang up around it.

Before that moment of revelation, my understanding of "strike while the iron is hot" was equivalent to "make hay while the sun shines." Yours too, probably. I thought it was a call to quickly take action, to end the waiting, to "get cracking!" And I thought that action was this: using a hot iron to hit something.

You can imagine what I thought every time I passed an ironing board as a child.

What changed my mind that day was one of the dioramas in the museum. There before us were a couple of men looking at the glowing end of a long piece of iron drilling pipe. One of the men was holding something like a sledge hammer. The recording that started up as we approached explained what we were seeing. In the early days of oil exploration, the part of the iron shaft that did the actual cutting (the drill bit) had to be shaped by hand, so to speak.

In other words, they had to heat up the iron until the drill bit end of it could be beaten with the hammer, shaped so it would actually cut through earth and rock. They could only do this when the heat had softened the iron to the point that it was malleable. They had to strike it, repeatedly, with the sledge until the desired shape was achieved. Without this process, the iron was not useful for getting oil out of the ground.

And there was a time factor to consider. Once the heat was removed, the iron started to cool. The cooler it was, the less malleable it was, and the less useful to the desired purpose. So, they had to strike it while the iron was hot.

If you've never read Max Lucado's On the Anvil, I recommend it. He compares us to implements in God's workshop. Some of the implements are off in a corner, cold and of little use. Some of the implements are near at hand, well within reach, available. And some are on the anvil, hot, glowing, and ready to be shaped to a useful purpose by the smithy of creation.

The next time you hear the phrase, "strike while the iron is hot," consider that you may be the iron. And when you do, think on Psalm 27, one of this week's Lectionary scriptures, and particularly: "Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!" (Psalm 27:14 NRSV)

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday in Lent (February 21, 2016)
First reading
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
Psalm
Psalm 27
Second reading
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Gospel
Luke 13:31-35 or Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)

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We're still in the beginning of our six weeks of Lent. Join us Friday mornings at Lectionary Breakfast. We take a fresh look at familiar scriptures and prepare our hearts for the coming of Easter. We still meet at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for an hour like to no other. Strike while the iron is hot.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

A Separate Peace (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

There was this book; A Separate Peace. We read it in the ninth grade. There's a lot I don't recall about the book, but that's not due to memory lapse: I just didn't get it, even then. The story took place in the U.S. during World War II. I seem to recall some guy fell out of a tree and broke his leg, and the main character was named Finny (maybe).

That's about it.

I'm certain, because I remember the concerned look on my teacher's face, that I was supposed to get a lot more out of it than that. I'm pretty sure we were supposed to be profoundly affected by it.

That was not my experience. I just didn't find anything about the book to like. Everyone seemed kind of mean. Or at least that's how I remember it. For whatever reason, I never connected with it.

But I do recall one important thing.

The title had to do with treaties. It goes something like this: a group of allies agree to go to war together, as a unified force, or at least agree to all fight the same enemies. That's part of it. The other part is this: each country making up the allies also agrees to not make "a separate peace" with the enemy forces. In other words, "we're all in it together, and none of us quits until we all agree to quit."

A separate peace sounds like a nice thing, a way to walk away from the battle rather than face the terrible things that are assuredly coming; pain, separation, destruction, and death. But there is a problem with a separate peace that may not be readily apparent. If one of the allied countries decided to make a separate peace with the enemy forces, that would be a betrayal of the other countries in the allied forces. The original commitment made by the betraying country would now be without meaning, and they would likely never be trusted by their former allies, ever again.

That's what's happening in this week's Lectionary selection from Luke 4:1-13. Satan, in the middle of his multi-millennia war with God, has come to Jesus to entice Him into a separate peace. They both know that some hard times are ahead for Jesus; pain, separation, destruction, and death. Satan's "temptations" are all inducements for Jesus to abandon his allegiance to God. To step out of the war.

There are times and places for a separate peace. Truly, sometimes it is better to walk away from the war than to continue, even if we can't convince our allies to do so. But for the "war in heaven" that spilled over onto Earth, our oath of fealty must stand firm. Like Jesus, we must resist whatever draws us away from our commitment to God.

Now is not the time for a separate peace.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=118

Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Psalm 91: 1-2, 9-16
Romans 10:8b-13
Luke 4:1-14

Here's a link to all the readings for the season of Lent.
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/lections.php?year=C&season=Lent

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We enter the season of Lent preparing for some time of personal reflection. Where do we stand? With God? Are we faithful? Or have we sidelined ourselves from the conflict? Is there something of which we need to repent?

The next six weeks are especially significant in our journey with Jesus through this life. Spend the Friday mornings with us at Lectionary Breakfast. You'll be glad of the fellowship and time in the scriptures. We gather at 8:00 a.m. at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for an hour like no other.

Blessings,
Steve

The Shining (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

There was a lot of controversy surrounding Stephen King's The Shining.

Likely, though, it's not what you think. I mean, if you think the controversies were things like a young child being stalked by evil ghosts or being endangered by his own father, then you would be wrong. Somehow, as strange as that sounds, today, people managed to accept both those premises.

The first controversy had to do with the novel, itself. King's publisher lobbied long and hard for King to not even write the novel. After the success of Carrie and 'Salem's Lot, Doubleday was worried King would get typed as a horror writer. There's some irony for you. The Shining went on the be King's first hardback bestseller.

The second controversy was the title; people just didn't get it. People had heard of visions, as in the Bible, and they had heard of precognition, as in ESP, but "shining?" What was that? Did King just make that up? It wasn't until 11 years after The Shining was first published that King explained: he took the title from a John Lennon song, "Instant Karma!," where Lennon suggests we, like the moon, stars, and sun, "all shine on."

Of course, the big controversy was the Stanley Kubrick film. Generally considered one of the greatest horror films of all time, it nevertheless diverged significantly from King's novel. King was not shy about his disappointment. The irony, here, is that the movie likely drove book sales through the roof.

It seems that "shining" has always been a bit controversial . . . as we see in this week's Lectionary scriptures. When Moses came down from the mountaintop meeting with God, his face was positively glowing . . . really glowing. Let that sink in for a minute; try to picture it. Even in this day of CGI movies, seeing someone like that in real life would be disconcerting. Moses was so bright, the people were afraid; he had to wear a veil for quite some time, until the glow had faded away.

Then, in another of this week's passages, Jesus takes his inner circle up the mountain where He is transfigured and, He too, is left glowing after encountering God there. I wonder how long that glow lasted? Scriptures doesn't tell us, but one thing we know, they didn't come down from the mountain until the next day.

Both "shinings" reappear in the II Corinthians passage, where Paul writes:

“With that kind of hope to excite us, nothing holds us back. Unlike Moses, we have nothing to hide. Everything is out in the open with us. He wore a veil so the children of Israel wouldn’t notice that the glory was fading away—and they didn’t notice. They didn’t notice it then and they don’t notice it now, don’t notice that there’s nothing left behind that veil. Even today when the proclamations of that old, bankrupt government are read out, they can’t see through it. Only Christ can get rid of the veil so they can see for themselves that there’s nothing there.

Whenever, though, they turn to face God as Moses did, God removes the veil and there they are—face-to-face! They suddenly recognize that God is a living, personal presence, not a piece of chiseled stone. And when God is personally present, a living Spirit, that old, constricting legislation is recognized as obsolete. We’re free of it! All of us! Nothing between us and God, our faces shining with the brightness of his face. And so we are transfigured much like the Messiah, our lives gradually becoming brighter and more beautiful as God enters our lives and we become like him.”
‭‭(2 Corinthians‬ ‭3:12-18‬ ‭MSG‬‬
http://bible.com/97/2co.3.12-18.msg)

We should have no fear of the shining, the real shining. It's God's light pouring through.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Transfiguration Sunday (February 7, 2016)
Last Sunday before Lent
First reading
Exodus 34:29-35
Psalm
Psalm 99
Second reading
2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
Gospel
Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)

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Not all of us are morning people, bright and shining when we first face the day. That's what breakfast is for. Join us for Lectionary Breakfast Friday morning at 8:00. We gather for a great hour of relaxed fellowship and scripture at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

The Treasures in the Box (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I got a surprise ---well, surprises--- this week.

I looked out the front door and saw a small box snugged up against the brick wall. That wasn't surprising; we get quite a few boxes. The surprise, the first one anyway, is that it was addressed to me. There are many boxes arriving at our door, but few of them are addressed to me.

I have a small confession. I love it when a box is addressed to me; feels like Christmas or my birthday all over again. I thought that might diminish as I grew older, but it hasn't. It's one of the ongoing joys of my life. As soon as I see my name on the box, I feel the endorphin rush and that goofy grin spreading across my face. Every single time.

I already loved it and I hadn't even opened it.

The second surprise, and definitely the bigger surprise is what I found inside: letters, 30 or 40 of them, and all of them from the mystery that was my father.

You could get to know Dad, but only the pieces he chose to reveal. As father and son, Dad and I occupied the same residence for about two decades. Then I knew him, adult-to-adult so to speak, for almost three more decades. All of those years, and yet, I knew very little about him. It seems like other people can rattle off tale after tale of each parent's childhood, school years, romances, and careers. And I can do some of that, but there is a very, very limited supply of those stories about Dad. He just didn't share much with us.

Maybe he was, as I have always assumed, just a very private person. He definitely personified the saying, "Still waters run deep." He was also, in my view, the kind of person who, "kept his own counsel." In recent years, I have concluded Dad may well have been an introvert, living deep within himself and only surfacing from time to time to interact with the rest of us as needed.

The period of Dad's life of which I know the least is his service during World War II. Dad rarely talked about the war. This puzzled me as a child; many a childhood friend told me tales of their father's service. But as I became an adult, and several of my own friends were returning from the Vietnam War, I gained some understanding. Some things are too hard to recall, much less tell to children. In time, I just packed away all my questions about that time in his life, accepting that he might never be able to tell me more than the very handful of stories he had already shared.

The box was from my cousin, the daughter of one of dad's sisters. The letters? Almost all from Dad during World War II.

I immediately opened the letter on top. Dad's handwriting was difficult for me to read. But I could understand enough to realize just what a treasure I now possessed. Here was a young man with a lightness of spirit I never saw in my Dad. He was having a little fun with my aunt and uncle. My Dad, funny. Funny! Mind-blowing. And then, not three sentences in, he referred to his "wife."

Wait. What?!

Dad didn't meet my mother until AFTER the war. Who was this wife? And where did she go? I checked a couple more of the letters; all referenced his wife. After the shock, I found myself experiencing something else, a kind of hope. I will learn something new about my father, and from his own hand.

I am amazed to have such a treasure appear at this point of my life. In time, we will transcribe them and share their content with my sister and the rest of the family. Thousands of questions have resurrected themselves, now; questions I had long ago decided could never be answered. I can no longer ask Dad. It's likely I will never, "understand all mysteries." But at least now, I may get some answers.

And get to know him a little better.

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See more reflections at
http://steveorr.blogspot.com
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (January 31, 2016)
First reading
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm
Psalm 71:1-6
Second reading
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Gospel
Luke 4:21-30
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Winter continues, but it's warm at Lectionary Breakfast! Can you gather with us Friday morning at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant? We start at 8:00, enjoying an hour (ish) of food, friendships, and illumination from God's word.

Mysteries are revealed.

Enjoy the week!
Steve

What Got You Here Won't Get You There (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

We know what that means. We do.

Different parts of a journey are approached differently. Different phases of a process require different actions. If you use a map to travel across the plains, you wouldn't use the same map to cross the mountains. Different terrain, different map. When it's time to harvest, a farmer would not use the planting routine to harvest the crops. You plant one way and harvest another.

When Marshall Goldsmith wrote the book, What Got You Here a Won't Get You There, he applied this same understanding to career advancement. He explained that the processes people employ for making it as a worker in the working world do not apply to positions of management. This was not Goldsmith's way to brand managers as non-workers. Rather, it was an acknowledgment that the worker and the manager have different jobs; different uses of their time, different objectives; different tools.

In short, the book's title.

The book was aimed at people who either are in, or aspire to, management. It lays out a map, if you will, of milestones such persons must achieve. It explains that some of the old must give way to the new; that if not, the person will not succeed on this new journey.

The Hebrews selection in this week's Lectionary scripture addresses a similar situation faced by those who desire a relationship with God. The Hebrew writer succinctly sums up much of what Jesus tried to communicate to Israel's leaders; the Priests, scribes, Pharisees, and teachers of the law.

“The old plan was only a hint of the good things in the new plan. Since that old “law plan” wasn’t complete in itself, it couldn’t complete those who followed it. No matter how many sacrifices were offered year after year, they never added up to a complete solution. If they had, the worshipers would have gone merrily on their way, no longer dragged down by their sins. But instead of removing awareness of sin, when those animal sacrifices were repeated over and over they actually heightened awareness and guilt. The plain fact is that bull and goat blood can’t get rid of sin.

"That is what is meant by this prophecy, put in the mouth of Christ: You don’t want sacrifices and offerings year after year; you’ve prepared a body for me for a sacrifice. It’s not fragrance and smoke from the altar that whet your appetite. So I said, “I’m here to do it your way, O God, the way it’s described in your Book.” When he said, “You don’t want sacrifices and offerings,” he was referring to practices according to the old plan. When he added, “I’m here to do it your way,” he set aside the first in order to enact the new plan— God’s way—by which we are made fit for God by the once-for-all sacrifice of Jesus.”
(‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭10:1-10‬ ‭MSG‬‬. http://bible.com/97/heb.10.1-10.msg)

The old way, the way they clung to, was no longer viable. They would have to change if they wanted to be one of God's people. What had brought them to that point— the Law —could not get them any further. Jesus came in the fullness of time to fulfill the Law. It was done.

It's as if Jesus was telling them: what got you here won't get you there.
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

Fourth Sunday of Advent (December 20, 2015)
Micah 5:2-5a
Psalm 80:1-7
Hebrews 10:5-10
Luke 1:39-45, (46-55)

Loving the Bumpuses (a Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

"The Bumpuses were so low down on the evolutionary totem pole that they weren't even included in Darwin's famous family tree. They had inbred and ingrown and finally emerged from the Kentucky hills like some remnant of Attila the Hun's barbarian horde. Flick said that they had webbed feet and only three toes. It might have been true.” Jean Shepherd, A Christmas Story


If you've ever seen A Christmas Story, then you surely recognize that line from the voiceover narration. The Bumpuses were the family that lived next door to Ralphie Parker and his family. It was the Bumpus hounds who absconded with the Parker Christmas turkey. Author Jean Shepherd portrays them as caricatures, the ultimate hillbilly family (at least as perceived by those who considered themselves more sophisticated).

I went to church with a family very much like them . . . in some ways.

My Bumpuses had the requisite drawl, the car with the busted suspension, the rambunctious kids who just could not stay clean between their house and midweek services. Their clothes never seemed to fit; too large, too small, too long.

There were plenty of people who, I'm certain, could not see past the look and sound of them to realize what was right before their eyes. I heard the talk. I saw the looks. I quickly discerned how most of the folks in our congregation of believers regarded them: not quite measuring up, and not likely to ever do so; too hillbilly.

I will admit that, initially, I, too, was put off by their seeming disinterest in looking and acting like everyone else. I suspect their children may have had a few such moments, as well. But, the way they lived their lives soon won me over. At a crucial time in my development, God sent these simply-living, yet anything but simple, people into my life.

My Bumpuses were one of the very best things to happen to my young life. Think of the people who helped shape you into the person you are. My Bumpuses are high up on that list. I learned something so important from them, something I am sad to report I have seen far too little of in this life.

I didn't have a term for it, then. I just knew I was witnessing something I had read about but could not recall ever seeing. Now, to be fair, I have encountered this a few times since then. But my Bumpuses were the first, and they left a lasting impression.

I have a term for it now: Advent People.

My Bumpuses lived their lives as if every day was an Advent day, as people who were expecting Jesus, looking forward to His arrival. Yes, they seemed to give little thought to how they were dressed, the baby's drooping diaper, the loud creaking of the suspension whenever entering or exiting their old car, an accent that turned heads even in Kentucky.

But, in place of all that, they invested their time and energy into helping others. They were always available to help out. Always. They taught Sunday School when substitutes were needed. They did all of those behind-the-scenes kind of jobs that are so forgettable but so necessary. They were almost always the last to leave, just in case something needed doing.

And, for some reason, they took an interest in me.

I rode in that old car to church camp when my parents couldn't take me. I later learned that it was my Bumpuses who rounded up the camp fees when my mother had no extra funds. I had a front row seat, so to speak, to observe them pray, simply and earnestly. I could not count for you the numerous acts of kindness I saw these folks perform, and almost always on the down-low.

A lifetime of reflection has not eroded my view of them, and it is not idealized. Experience has taught me that they actually read their Bibles; that they understood that what Jesus said and did to others provides a template for how we should speak and act. And, perhaps most of all, they wanted to be found being just like that when they encountered Him.

My Bumpuses, my Advent People. Don't think they didn't know what others thought and said about them. They knew. They just didn't care. They were living, breathing examples of that well known A. W. Tozer quote, "I claim the holy right to disappoint men in order to avoid disappointing God."
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday of Advent (December 6, 2015)
First reading - Malachi 3:1-4
Psalm - Luke 1:68-79
Second reading - Philippians 1:3-11
Gospel - Luke 3:1-6
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Advent! A great time to spend with our brothers and sisters in Christ. Consider joining some of us at Lectionary Breakfast, Friday morning. We gather at 8:00 at the Waco "Egg and I" restaurant for an hour like no other. We eat, we talk, we laugh; and all of it surrounding a reading of God's word.

Hope to see you there.

Enjoy the week!
Steve