Rolling on the River: Fun Times With Fruit (a brief lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Rolling on the River: Fun Times With Fruit
(a brief lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)
 
I was born and raised in West Kentucky in a town situated at the confluence of the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers, and just a mile north of where these two joined the mighty Mississippi.  Those rivers, and the lakes and streams fed by them, play a central role in all my best memories of those times.  And they were the location of so many of the fun things I did with my friends; especially my friends Paul, Mike, Bruce, and Bob.
 
There are so many stories of fun things we did together.  Some of them are simple things like double dating (and triple dating, and four-ple dating . . .  group activities were not so common in those days, not like today, but the four of us did a lot of things as a group).  Sometimes we just hung out at one or the other’s house (usually Bob’s or Bruce’s since they had rooms designed to withstand the rigors of hosting teenage boys).  None of us had any money, so we worked the concession stand to get into the football and basketball games.  We were a little nerdy, so we joined the Chess Club.  When one of us performed in a play or a choir concert, the rest of us took our dates to see the performance.  We grew to value our differences, and we had fun whatever we did together. 
 
But mostly, we did things on and around (and between) the rivers.  One spring break Bob, Bruce and I spent the week navigating a small boat up the river to the locks at the Kentucky Lake dam and camping along the shores of the Land Between the Lakes (the LBL - Google it).  One night we camped on an island in the middle of the lake, made a fire and told ghost stories . . . until we discovered the “island” had been a cemetery before the TVA flooded the area to make the lake.  No one slept THAT night ;-)
 
Paul was always the explorer in our little group; he led us on many an adventure in the LBL.  Paul is the one who talked us into crawling through mud tunnels along one side of the lake one winter, explaining later that the reason we had to do it in winter is because the tunnels only exist because the mud is frozen; that come spring they would all collapse!  Interspersed among all our adventures were lots of outings on boats, in cars, on bicycles, and on foot.  One adventure in particular stands out because it ended with us being chased by moonshiners after we accidentally discovered their still.  Fun times.
 
There are a lot of these stories, and perhaps I’ll tell some more of them in the future.  Right now, what I want to tell you is this:  When I read in Galatians 5:22-23
 
“…when we live God’s way, He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity.  We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people.  We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely.”
 
When I read that passage, I think of my four friends.  When I was a teen and going through the shaping that would produce the person I now am, it is these friends who were the “fruit of the Spirit” to me.  In them I saw all those good things, and I bent my will and energies to emulate them in every way I could.
 
Are there some folks in your life who appear like fruit in an orchard; refreshing, bursting with joy and great personal qualities?  Consider that God may have placed them in your life (and you in theirs) to be the catalyst for something good.  For the “fruit of the Spirit” is not just a list of qualities printed on a page.  It is the living of those qualities in our everyday interactions with one another.  I thank God for my friends.  Still.
 
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If you are in Waco, Texas on a Friday, join the group at 8:00 a.m. at the Olive Branch for breakfast and some excellent fellowship.  I am getting to be with them this week and I am really looking forward to it!

Poem on a Bathroom Wall

Poem on a Bathroom Wall
(a brief lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

One of my favorite restaurants, Algiers, is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts in Brattle Square. Delicious food; and some truly fine coffee. Plus, Algiers was the site of a monthly meeting of friends who enjoy books as much as I do. In other words, a place I visited often. And, every time I was at Algiers, I went to the bathroom before starting the long series of subway rides home.

That’s where I first saw the poem.


home had took me
to where too much time
had locke me in
in my wrong ways
and the fumbles of
a memory, and left me
where I first began
begging: "Christ let loose
these ghosts from my bones."


Men see a lot of things written on bathroom walls; mostly things not repeatable in polite company. And believe me, after a while, guys just stop seeing them. But this caught my attention the very first time I entered that bathroom. Eventually, months later I am sad to report, it finally occurred to me to write it down.

I’ve thought a lot about that poem over the years; wondering what the author meant for the reader to get from it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion the author probably cared not one whit about what the reader would get from the poem. It’s too raw. It was scrawled on a bathroom wall, not published in the New England Journal of Poetry. This guy was hurting. Deeply.

What has been the most puzzling is why the poem kept drawing my attention. I don’t think of myself as having the kind of life that would lead to penning my pain to a bathroom wall. It took a while, but eventually I realized what the draw was: it reads like one of David’s psalms, a lot like the two psalms (42 and 43) in this week’s lectionary readings. When the Psalmist writes, “Deep calls to deep at the thunder of your cataracts; all your waves and your billows have gone over me,” I really feel his exhaustion; his being overwhelmed by the deep waters of life. Like the bathroom poet, David wanted a relief only God could provide.

Sometimes we get into deep water; really deep, deep water. We’re in so deep, the only way we can ever get out is to call on God to cleanse us of even the memories of what led us there.

It has been several years since I finally realized I needed to write down that poem, and almost as long since I came to understand why I needed to write it down. And despite diligent searches, I’ve never been able to locate the author. If I could find him, I would thank him for his reminder that God can be called on in all circumstances, even when, perhaps most especially when, things seem to be at their worst.

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If you find yourself in Waco on a Friday, join the group at the Olive Branch for breakfast and Bible at 8:00 a.m. This week’s other readings are: 1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a; Isaiah 65:1-9; Psalm 22:19-28; Galatians 3:23-29; Luke 8:26-39.

Robin Hoods of the Purple Sage

(Photo by Paula Hartnet)

Robin Hoods of the Purple Sage
(a brief lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I watched a lot of television as a child, and, because there was a great need for content, saw a lot of movies on the television (even though we, initially, only received one channel). It didn’t take me long to recognize a recurring plot line in many of the movies and television programs I was exposed to: the rich rancher who covets the land of the little guy (or, just as often, the attractive-widow-with-children) is eventually thwarted by the handsome (and possibly singing) cowboy (who, having soundly defeated the bad guy, settles down to provide “lasting” protection against it ever happening again or, perhaps rides away into the sunset leaving all to wonder “Who was that masked man?”). You would be amazed at how many variations on a theme are possible with just those few building blocks . . . and all in black & white.

Part of the reason I recognized that recurring pattern is that I was exposed to Robin Hood at an even earlier age. I knew all about Robin, Maid Marion, and the Merry Men “stealing from the rich” (something Robin only did to the “bad” rich people, those who accumulated their riches through oppression, excessive taxation, and theft) and “giving to the poor” (since the only reason they were “poor” is that the “bad” rich people made them that way). It is why, at a very early age, I easily understood the caveat in scripture against coveting. How hard is that to understand? If you want something that is not yours, and if you have no legitimate means of it becoming yours, you need to just let go of the idea of possessing it. Simple.

Of course, if you are reading this, you know as well as I do that, despite being simple, it is not always easy to accomplish. We want what we want. Taming that desire to possess can be daunting. Oh that we had a cowboy (singing or otherwise) who would ride in and stop the rich rancher in our heads from coveting our neighbors whatever. Or if we could know, really know, we had the deterrent of a Robin Hood who could be counted on to always deprive us of our ill-gotten gains, perhaps knowing it would keep us from taking what doesn’t really belong to us.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. We’re on the honor system. God will allow us to act as we decide to act, and there will be consequences for our actions . . . the bill may just come much, much later. And we may not be the ones to pay it. In 1st Kings, chapter 21, we see Ahab sulk because a neighbor won’t sell him a vineyard and then allow his wicked wife to engineer the death of that man so Ahab can have the vineyard. We are a bit shocked to find that there is no immediate retribution; no Robin Hood to swash-buckle in and steal it back. Instead Ahab is promised by Elijah that he will, someday, pay the price for what he has done . . . when he dies. The description of the consequence is pretty graphic, so I’ll let you read it yourself. Regardless, the punishment seems remote; it seems to fit the old saying, “justice delayed is justice denied.”

In 2nd Samuel, chapters 11 and 12, we read of David being confronted by the prophet Samuel for engineering the death of a man so David could possess the man’s wife (after David had already impregnated her). Again, we can hardly believe what we are reading. The “evil rich rancher” is the man GOD chose to be King! And where is the singing cowboy? No one acts to stop this man from arranging this heinous crime. Why? Because he is the King, God’s chosen King. He is so powerful, no one dare oppose him, even when he does wrong. In this story, as well as the Ahab story, the principals don’t actually do the foul deed; they each use someone else to make it happen; as if that distance somehow made them less tainted by the foul act. In David’s case, he managed to arrange for the enemy to strike the killing blow. And then, once confronted with his crime, David repents. But the bill comes due (it always does). And David has to watch time after time while others die, and wondering if it is because of his sin. It is a sobering and chilling thought.

And that brings us to Luke, chapter 7. People usually think this is a story about honoring Jesus. And it is, to a certain extent. But there is another story; and it is couched in the question Jesus asks the well-off Pharisee: “Do you see this woman?” That question seems so out of place. How could the Pharisee NOT see the woman? She has been there all through the meal, weeping on Jesus’ feet and then drying them with her hair, anointing his feet with ointment and then kissing them. Seems pretty heard to miss. That simple question harbors a much greater meaning. Jesus wants to know if the man REALLY sees the woman; not with his physical eyes, but with his spiritual eyes.

That is the real problem with all of these key people—Ahab, a consistently evil man; David, a good man who has strayed; and the Pharisee, just a guy with resources who asked Jesus to dinner—they all failed to actually “see” the people before them. They let their desires (or their situations) drive how they regarded others; human beings with just as much value to God as themselves.

And that is our challenge as well. God has charged us to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. WE are the Robin Hoods of the purple sage.

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If you are in Waco, Texas on Friday, stop by the Olive Branch (River Square, just down from Ninfa’s, near 5th and University Parks Drive) at 8:00 a.m. for breakfast and some great discussions of this week’s lectionary passages (the other readings this week are Psalm 5:1-8 • Psalm 32 • Galatians 2:15-21 • Luke 7:36-8:3).

Enjoy!

Steve

The Second Rule of Finding Things

The Second Rule of Finding Things . . . (a brief lectionary reflection by Steve Orr -- for Sunday June 6, 2010)

If you read one of my previous lectionary reflections, you may be familiar with my hobby of collecting first rules. I wrote about the "First Rule of Self-defense" (Don't be there) and the "First Rule of the Kitchen" (Before picking something up, know where you're going to set it down). Here's a new one for you: the "First Rule of Promotion" (To get the job, do the job). That could also be called the "First Rule of Employment"; it works for both.

I also wrote about the "First Rule of Finding Things" (Look under something). That one is worth exploring a bit more, but I'll save it for another reflection. This week I want to shift over to one of my very few second rules: the "Second Rule of Finding Things." Perhaps you're wondering why a perfectly good first rule needs a second rule at all. The best way I can explain it is this: some things just can't be found using only the first rule.  But that's not the rule's fault! The very best practitioners of the "First Rule of Finding Things" could still not find what was being sought because of a little trick our mind plays on us.  Often, we are so focused on what we are seeking, we stop seeing what is right in front of us; and the "harder" we look the less we see.   Weird but true.

That leads me to the "Second Rule of Finding Things" (Don't look; see). Sometimes the only way to find something is to stop looking for it and just allow ourselves to see what is before us.  While using this approach can often yield up what was sought, the great benefit to using this rule is that it goes a long way toward preventing us from mistaking what is before us for what we are seeking. Sometimes (many would say, "usually") the act of looking for something prevents us from discovering.  Another way to think about it is the difference between researching and exploring; the former follows set rules and usually involves a known objective, whereas the latter is far less structured and consists of observing whatever is encountered.

And THAT leads us to 1 Kings 17 where Elijah restores a widow's son to life.  It is a story about the great prophet of God that, when Jesus walks among them, everyone in Israel, even children, knows. Right up there with bringing God's fire down on Mt. Carmel, stopping the rain for 3 years, and being whisked off to Heaven in a firey chariot. Plus, there is an expectation that Elijah will return just before the Messiah appears.

So, perhaps we should cut the folks of Nain some slack.  Is it such a big problem that they thought he was Elijah returning when they saw Jesus raise to life the dead son of a widow?  Luke 7:16 says "they glorified God, saying, 'A great prophet has risen among us!'" When they said that, they were thinking about the return of Elijah.

There's just one problem: they broke the "Second Rule of Finding Things." Because they were SO focused on the return of Elijah, they failed to see what was right in front of them, someone far more important than Elijah.

It's something we might give some thought to ourselves.