So ... Now What? (a Steve Orr Lectionary reflection)

I imagine that was the question that came to mind the next morning.

The baby was born ... and had spent a portion of its young life in the animals’ food trough. The shepherds had come ... and gone. The Sun was up ... and “The Star” was no longer visible.

So ... now what?

I imagine Joseph and Mary were hoping for a little calm normalcy, some regular parent/child time without all the visitors and drama of the night before. But was that to be?

Questions have surrounded the events of that very first Christmas ... and have continued even up to today. It seems everyone has questions this time of year. There's the ever popular "Mary Did You Know?" —the Lowry/Greene Christmas staple that's been around, in one form or another, for decades— I have especially enjoyed the recent Pentatonix a cappella version (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE).

And then there's 25 Questions for Mary from Max Lucado's book, God Came Near. My favorite of those is "Did you ever think, ‘That’s God eating my soup’?" With all these questions floating about, I can't help but have one of my own for Mary and Joseph: "What was that first sabbath like?"

Being observant Jews, it’s likely the “next thing” for Joseph and Mary was taking their first-born to the Temple in Jerusalem. The Law required the first-born be dedicated to God. And that’s where this week's Lectionary selection from Luke 2 takes us.

But, as you can see, there was nothing “normal” about their baby’s first visit to the Temple. In fact, if you keep reading, you learn they just didn’t have much normal in their lives for those first few years!

So ... what about us? Christmas is over, right?

Or is it?

I think, somewhat like Joseph and Mary, even though the shepherds are gone and the baby is no longer in the manger, Christmas —the real Christmas— is really only just beginning ... and, in fact, has never really ceased. The miracle of that night was just the start of something beyond belief, something we can only partially understand.

It is entirely appropriate for us to still be asking: so ... now what?

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
First Sunday after Christmas Day (December 31, 2017)

Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Psalm 148
Galatians 4:4-7
Luke 2:22-40

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Join us for Lectionary Breakfast Friday morning as we begin to look ahead and try to answer: what’s next? We gather at 8:00 at the Waco “Egg and I” Restaurant. We’re still meeting in their function room (down the outside, at the back).

Blessings,
Steve

Revisiting The Wild Bunch (a Steve Orr Advent reflection)

“...just some bad people we know killing some bad people we don't know."

That’s what Roger Ebert said when he reviewed the movie, The Wild Bunch, back in the summer of 1969. He called it "the most violent movie ever made," a movie in which "there are no heroes.”

Here is a group of men who are hard; who spend a lot of their time out in the badlands, sleeping rough, living rough. They look rough. They smell rough. Not the kind of folk most of us would choose to spend any time with ... At all ... For any reason. We immediately mistrust them. There is something about the look of them that makes us want to turn and go the other way. Not someone you would wish to have join the family. And if they were already in the family? Well, we would want to send them as far away as we could possibly arrange.

A lot like the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night ... on that night.

Wait. What?!

Oh, yes. Scholars tell us that at the time of Jesus' birth, shepherding had fallen from the lofty days when David watched over his father’s flocks while writing psalms and fighting off varmints with his sling and a few smooth stones. It had become a despised trade, comprised of despised people. They were considered thieves; in fact, people were strongly discouraged from purchasing milk or wool from shepherds because it was widely assumed they had come by those goods dishonestly. Loving fathers refused to teach their sons the trade.

Wow. That really changes how we see the events of that night of nights.

Picture it with me. These low men were out in the fields with the sheep. Some were sleeping. Sheep don’t smell any better at night than in the day; and they don’t smell any better when asleep. But these men had grown nose-blind to the smell. In fact, the men smelled exactly the same as the sheep. Those who were keeping watch were alert to the sounds of the night; more concerned for their own lives than for the lives of the sheep.

Suddenly: an angel just appeared out of nowhere! Right there in the middle of them! Glory and light shone all about. Their first thought? Run! But the angel, who knew they were afraid (and probably should have been) calmed them down. He gave them the message about the Messiah being born in the nearby town and described how they would recognize him. And if that was not enough, suddenly, there were even more angels surrounding them; an army of them, shouting in unison “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to people who please Him!”

Then, just as suddenly as they appeared: they were just not there. After all that, what would you do? The shepherds did just what I think any of us would do (after we got over the shock); they went to investigate.

Now picture this scene: surrounded by livestock, having wrapped their newborn son in cloths and placed him in the feed trough because, well, there was just no where else, Mary and Joseph hear a noise. At first, it is unidentifiable; but soon, they recognize it as the many voices of excited people; and the sound is coming closer. In short order, the little space is crammed full of ... a wild bunch; shepherds; not exactly the kind of people parents would want near their newborn. And the smell, already bad, only gets worse. There is a lot of pushing and shoving; finally, talking over each other, each one trying to tell it, they manage to tell the tale.

Then, like many others have over the ensuing millennia, this wild bunch took to the streets to tell what they had seen and heard that night. And —maybe for the first time in a very long time— people actually stopped to listen to these hard, low men.

And the people marveled at what they heard.

The first week of Advent was about orientation (looking back and owning our true history, while looking forward in hope of salvation). Week two of Advent was about pausing (practicing patience while we wait upon the Lord). Last week, the Advent scriptures were about declaration (proclaiming, to all who will hear, the imminent arrival of the Messiah, the Christ, the “light”). Finally, this week, Advent is about transformation. We see God transform His Son into a human baby, transform a group of animals into witnesses, and transform a wild bunch —some rough, low men— into heralds of the Messiah’s arrival.

And the transformations are only beginning ...

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A very different version of this reflection appeared in December 2010
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Nativity of The Lord - Proper 1 (December 24, 2017)
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu//texts.php?id=52

Isaiah 9:2-7
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14, (15-20)
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Will you be in Waco this Friday morning? If so, join us for Lectionary Breakfast at the “Egg and I” restaurant at 8:00. We’ll be Advent-ing: orienting toward our hope in Jesus, pausing to hear from the Lord, declaring His presence, and seeking transformation. And we’ll be laughing, praying, reading, discussing, and eating while we do it.

What a great way to enjoy Advent.

Blessings,
Steve

For Sale: Baby Shoes (a Steve Orr Advent reflection)

Hemingway wrote a short story on a napkin to settle a bar bet ... supposedly.

Maybe that’s true, and maybe it’s not. The story goes like this: the bet was that Hemingway, known for his brevity in writing, could not write a compelling story in just six words. After a brief reflection, the author penned: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”

Poignant; heartbreaking even.

While not identical, the thoughts and images that flood our minds when we read Hemingway’s mini novel are almost certainly similar. We know about baby shoes. We understand what he means by “for sale.” And we can easily surmise the events that could lead to “never worn” ... all because we have a shared understanding of what those things might be.

I first came across Hemingway’s six-word novel in a wonderful little book titled, “Not Quite What I Was Planning." The folks at Smith Magazine collected six-word memoirs from people across the globe.

These short summaries include the humorous, like "Catholic girl. Jersey. It's all true,” comedian Tracey Morgan's self-description ("At the end of normal street"), and Janelle Brown's confession ("My second grade teacher was right"). There are commentaries on life ("It's like forever, only much shorter") and on its absurdities ("Time to start over again, again"). There is bathos ("We were our own Springer episode") and also pathos ("I still make coffee for two").

In reading this week's Lectionary passages, I found that some of those can be distilled into excellent six-word memoirs. For example: "Sowed in tears, reaped with joy" (Psalms) or "Gave a garland instead of ashes" (Isaiah). There’s "Filled the hungry with good things" (Luke) and "Gives thanks in all circumstances; still" (Thessalonians). Plus "My spirit rejoices; God my savior" (Luke) and "Came to testify to the light" (John).

The first week of Advent was about orientation (looking back and owning our true history, while looking forward in hope of salvation). Week two of Advent was about pausing (practicing patience while we wait upon the Lord). This third week of Advent is about declaration (proclaiming, to all who will hear, the imminent arrival of the Messiah, the Christ, the “light”).

We can proclaim the immediacy of a savior who has come and is coming again because we know that deep inside of all humankind is the same expectation. It is our shared understanding ... just waiting to hear that good news.


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A very different version of this reflection appeared in 2011 as “Not Quite What I Was Planning.”
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Photo Credit: https://www.etsy.com/listing/110452322/vintage-style-handmade-wool-blend-felt?utm_source=Pinterest&utm_medium=PageTools&utm_campaign=Share

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Third Sunday of Advent (December 17, 2017)

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
Psalm 126 or Luke 1:46b-55
1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
John 1:6-8, 19-28
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Friday mornings are a special time for us. We gather at the Waco “Egg and I” restaurant for Lectionary Breakfast, a time of prayer and scripture, and, yes: orientation, pause, and declaration. Meet with us at 8:00 for all of that plus some good food and laughter.

Blessings,
Steve

Revisiting An Unfinished Christmas (a Steve Orr Advent reflection)

It was a Christmas we would never forget.

I was no older than the first grade. I remember my mother taking us downtown so we could watch the Christmas parade that Saturday morning. 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. 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 the adults would allow.

The most enduring memory of that season came 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.

Paducah Dry Goods store was like the department store in “A Christmas Story.“ It 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 funneled cold air up from the rivers to chill us as we disembarked from the car. Dad dropped the three of us off at the store, parked the car a few blocks away, and then rejoined us inside.

My 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 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.

It was my daughter who first suggested that this memoir, with all the waiting and watching, would make a great Advent reflection ... and I agree. Last week’s reflection fit perfectly with orientation, the first “stage” of Advent (looking back at our true histories and forward to God’s promises). While this one aligns well with this week’s 2nd Peter selection and its emphasis on waiting, patience, and the timeless aspect of a relationship with God.

We’ve been waiting on God all these centuries, ever since Jesus came to us in human form ... while at the same “time” (so to speak), God has been waiting on us. Yes, that’s right. Peter reminds us that while we’ve been patiently waiting on God to return, God has been patiently waiting until more of us are ready for that return.

It’s the story of a Christmas that had its beginning over 2,000 years ago and has remained open all this time ... waiting on us.

An unfinished Christmas, indeed.

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For the rest of the story, the fuller version of my Christmas memoir can be read at http://steveorr.blogspot.com/search/label/1Memoir-An%20Unfinished%20Christmas

(If you are on my blog, see the list on the right side of the screen (web version). Click on: 1Spiritual Reflection - An Unfinished Christmas)
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Photo credit: Fir0002/Flagstaffotos

For more about this Comet, discovered by Robert McNaught: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?search=Comet+P1+McNaught&title=Special:Search&profile=default&fulltext=1&searchToken=81xyewdewi43g6agewxbbwr2o
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday of Advent (December 10, 2017)
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu//lections.php?year=B&season=Advent

Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
2 Peter 3:8-15a
Mark 1:1-8

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The Advent season continues, and we continue to observe it at Lectionary Breakfast. Join us Friday morning at 8:00 for a hour of sharing, scripture reading, laughing, praying, discussing, and, of course, eating. We’re still meeting in the Function Room of the Waco “Egg and I” Restaurant (entrance around the side at the back of the building). We hope to see you there.

Blessings,
Steve

Skeletons in the Closet (a Steve Orr Advent reflection)

There are some skeletons in my hometown’s closet.

Our histories are immutable. We can pretend they didn’t happen or that they happened differently than they did. We can even take steps to hide our histories ... but the reality of them cannot be changed. They are what they are.

It can be, at the very least, uncomfortable to have our histories known. Oh, if they are spotless or filled with laudable achievements we might enjoy having them known. But, seriously, what real humans have a spotless history?

Everybody has something they wish would never come to light.

Paducah Life (paducahlife.com) —the magazine of Paducah, Kentucky— is filled with pieces and pictorials that highlight the many and varied laudable ways the community appears, today. It showcases Paducah as a wonderful center for the arts in that part of the country, its role as a significant medical and educational center, its charities, and its businesses. And, being far from my roots, I read it cover to cover.

Each time I settle in to read the current issue, though, I find I am drawn, first, to those articles that take a look back. It’s never an exercise for the weak of spirit. Yes, there are plenty of commendable moments in Paducah’s history ... But there are plenty of the other, too.

Kentucky was a “border state” during the War Between the States (“the Civil War”), which means Kentucky elected to not choose a side in the conflict. That sounds commendable at this remove —to choose to not fight a war— but that’s not how it was viewed at the time. Both the Union and the Confederacy were incensed that Kentucky refused to align with their side.

That same anger was daily evident among the state’s populace, as well; some favoring the north, some favoring the south. It was tense; but perhaps it would have been an acceptable situation had it ended there. However, the Union (correctly) believed losing Kentucky to the Confederacy would be a disaster from which it could not recover ... and the Confederacy knew it. Because of this belief, President Lincoln ordered the Union Army to occupy Kentucky for the duration of the war.

Neutral or not, the war came to Kentucky.

One article in the recent Paducah Life illustrated just the kind of tension that existed during the Union occupancy. Union General Lew Wallace (later author of all-time bestseller Ben Hur) found himself at the center of a near brawl between Union officers and some Confederate army officers who were in Paducah under flag of truce. It happened like this: a Paducah local had hung the Confederate flag from his window, in the face, both literally and figuratively, of the Union army. When he refused to take it down, the Union officers had it forcibly removed, tore it into pieces, and not willing to stop there, cast the pieces at the feet of the Confederate officers.

There were two flags present that day in Paducah. But one of those flags represented an ideology which believed millions of people were less than human; that they could be bred, bought, and sold like livestock. That’s the flag that, when torn to shreds, caused fists to fly in what was already a powder keg ... in my hometown.

Sure, all of it happened almost a century before I arrived on the scene ... but still.

In any case, I relate this story, not to open a discourse on any of the issues that prevailed in that day, nor about those that prevail in our own time. But rather to point out that everyone, every locale, every nation has history of which we are ashamed. And it was no different for the Children of Israel.

What we find in this week’s selections from Isaiah and Psalms is a recognition of the infidelity that plagued the history of their relationship with God. These two are only a tiny sample of the times and ways in which the Israelites failed some rather simple relational requirements. And while it is appropriate to read and learn from those bad choices and behaviors, we must also see what else is in that prophecy and in that psalm: hope.

The authors clearly show that, in addition to fully acknowledging the negative history, there is a real desire to be better people. They want a better relationship with God. While looking back at their true history, they are also looking forward to that time when God’s anger will abate, when God will find a way for them to reconcile, when God will rescue them from their own sins.

And that, spiritual journeyers, is the message of Advent.


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Civil War Border State Map from: http://thomaslegion.net/missouricivilwarhistory.html
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
First Sunday of Advent (December 3, 2017)

Isaiah 64:1-9
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Corinthians 1:3-9
Mark 13:24-37
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TABLE OF READINGS FOR THE ADVENT SEASON
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu//lections.php?year=B&season=Advent

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I hope you can join us Friday morning at Lectionary Breakfast. As we enter the season of Advent, we look forward with hope for the return of Jesus. Our Friday breakfasts are just one way in which we do that corporately. We’re still meeting in the function room of the Waco “Egg and I” restaurant. Gather with us at 8:00 for a time of fellowship, food, and God’s word.

Blessings,
Steve

Docking With the International Space Station (a Steve Orr Lectionary Reflection)

Every rocket launching for the International Space Station (ISS) must do one thing exactly right.

When a craft needs to dock with the ISS, there is a strict procedure to which it must adhere. First, match the ISS speed and orbit at a position below the ISS, approximately a football field away (110 meters; include the End Zones). From launch to this position can take days. The craft must hold at this point until given permission to advance.

Once cleared to advance, the craft cuts the distance to a little less than half (50 meters) while using its nose and tail rockets to alter its pitch, yaw, and roll to match that of the ISS. This usually takes a couple hours.

Next, again after receiving permission, the pilot moves the craft at a pace of about 2 inches per second, stopping the approach about 10 meters (33 feet) from the ISS. Once more, the pilot awaits clearance from mission control before moving any closer.

The final leg of the trip, that last 30 feet or so, goes very slowly; about 2 inches every 20 seconds. It takes about half an hour. And even after the craft has docked, the crew must wait another two hours for the connecting passage to pressurize before they can enter the ISS.

This is a long and complicated process, made even longer by the fact that at multiple points fresh permissions must be obtained before proceeding.

I think most of us believe getting to God works much the same way: full speed toward God; stop and wait; get more permissions; slow our approach; stop again; get even more permissions. And then, right when we think we have finally made it, jumped through all the hoops, we're told to wait ... Again.

We see ourselves as the rocket, expending all the energy to connect with God; and we see God as the ISS, floating majestically out in space, expending no energy at all, just awaiting our approach. But we have a fundamental misunderstanding about the ISS: we think it can't maneuver. On the contrary, it can maneuver; it just doesn't maneuver any more than is necessary. Any fuel it uses must be replaced (i.e., brought up from the Earth). Plus, at an expense of over $10,000 per pound of propellant, a single 180 degree maneuver costs more than $1,000,000 to execute. At that price, it's no surprise the maneuvering is usually left to the approaching craft.

God has no such limitations.

Nor does God expect us to "do all the work." The scriptures are clear on this, no matter whether you read the Old Testament or the New. James writes, "Draw near to God and God will draw near to you." Don't get the wrong idea, though; it's not a quid pro quo. Look at the father in the parable about the prodigal son: as soon as he sees his son "still a long way from home," he runs to his son, meeting him well down the road (Luke 15).

That is the spirit of more than one passage from this week's Lectionary selections (Ezekiel, Psalm 95). God is not waiting for us to execute a painstaking series of maneuvers in order to approach him. He is searching for us, looking down the road, ready to run to us at first sighting.

Start your approach ... God will take care of the docking.


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A slightly different version of this reflection appeared in November 2014.
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For more about docking with the ISS, link to:
http://www.howitworksdaily.com/docking-with-the-iss/
"Docking With The ISS"
How It Works Magazine
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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
REIGN OF CHRIST
Proper 29(34)
Twenty-Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
(November 26, 2017)
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/texts.php?id=170

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Psalm 100
Psalm 95:1-7a
Ephesians 1:15-23
Matthew 25:31-46

Lone Wolf and Cub: The Warrior Code of the Samurai (a Steve Orr Lectionary reflection)

An assassin takes his infant son along on his murderous business. How can that possibly be Japan’s greatest Samurai story?

“Lone Wolf and Cub” is the tale of Samurai Ogami Itto. When he begins his mission to avenge the murder of his wife, his son is three years old. It is not your classic single father story. The tale is told over the course of 28 volumes, and is so popular it has been adapted into four plays, six movies, and a television series.

But, beyond the obvious, there is another problem. Itto is not a typical Samurai. In Japan, “Samurai” referred to a retainer, someone who accompanied the Lord, had pledged fealty to the Lord, and served the Lord in close attendance. It means, essentially, “to wait upon the Lord.”

Itto, though, is a Ronin, a Samurai who no longer serves a master. How he got that way is one of the reasons you might consider experiencing the story, yourself.

The Hagakure ("hidden leaves") is a book that captures this warrior code of the samurai. It is a practical and spiritual guide for the warrior ("retainer" in the book). It has been said of the Hagakure that it is Japan; that it captures the heart of all that truly matters to the culture.

So ... is everyone in Japan a warrior?

Well, no. But everyone is, in their world view, either a Lord or a Retainer. There are few Lords and many Retainers. A book delving into what makes one the ideal retainer could easily be said to be the heart of the culture. It’s enough to make me wonder what it is that makes this book —on the surface about warriors— be considered the guide for almost everyone in the country.

What, then, is this warrior code of the Samurai?

As with many things in life, it is a simple understanding: everyone, from the most skilled to the least, can hold a place of honor in the culture. To quote the Hagakure: "...even a person who is good for nothing and exceedingly clumsy will be a reliable retainer if only he has the determination to think earnestly of his master."

If only the slothful (frightened?) servant in this week's Matthew 25 Lectionary selection had been able to access the Hagakure. Perhaps if he had been keeping his mind fixed on what was best for his master, he would have made a better choice concerning the talent accorded him.

The lesson here for us?

When we stop focusing on what could go wrong, and instead focus on what God intended for us to do with the talents to which we have been entrusted, we should be able to reason through to the wise choice.

We need only think earnestly of our master.


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A considerably different version of this reflection appeared in November 2014 as “The Heart of the Hagakure.”
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Photo Credit: —WARNING! SOME PHOTOS VERY GRAPHICALLY DEPICT DEATH BY SEPPUKU (HARAKIRI)— Venetian-born photographer Felice Beato took these photos in the late 1800’s. He personally added the coloring so they would more accurately show how the Samurai looked. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-4161102/Live-die-sword-Brutal-pictures-Samurai.html

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A bit more on “Lone Wolf and Cub” at: https://www.japantimes.co.jp/culture/2016/10/08/books/book-reviews/lone-wolf-cub-japans-greatest-samurai-manga/#.WhDHL2hMGEc

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Proper 28 (33) (November 19, 2017)
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu//

Judges 4:1-7
Psalm 123
Zephaniah 1:7, 12-18
Psalm 90:1-8, (9-11), 12
1 Thessalonians 5:1-11
Matthew 25:14-30
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Lectionary Breakfast is a fun and interesting way to start the day and a great way to enter the weekend. We dig into the scriptures for the coming Sunday, asking questions and seeking their relevance for our lives. Join us Friday morning at the Waco “Egg and I” restaurant. We start at 8:00 and finish around 9:00. It’s an hour like no other.

Samurai welcome.

Blessings,
Steve