Saturday, May 28, 2022

Clear Eyes, Full Heart, Can’t Lose? (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

 

I was never an athlete.  

The closest I came to team sports was one brief summer in Little League. That was a disaster: couldn't hit, couldn't run, couldn't pay attention (best draw the curtain on that right now). 

Then, starting in the 7th Grade, my fellow students and I spent a portion of every other school day participating in a 40-minute version of whatever sport was in season. Yes: the dreaded Phys-Ed. In the fall, we played football in PE (didn’t understand the rules, so I was always a Lineman). In the winter, we played basketball (couldn't move and dribble—terrible shooter). On rainy days, we played dodgeball (big and slow, easy target). And in the spring, we played baseball (see above) and/or track and field (still hate this).  

And when we weren’t doing these things, we were subjected to a form of torture called conditioning. It was the part I hated the most: sit-ups, chin-ups, rope climbs, push-ups, running up and down the bleachers. Imitating sports wasn't so bad: You got knocked down, you got up, you got knocked down again—simple. Exercising just to exercise? Madness.

Everything changed in my thirties, though. I joined a gym and hired a trainer. I actually paid someone to lead me through the very activities I hated for those six years I was forced to take PE class. Why did I do this? Spend two, three nights per week at a gym? In short: I had goals. There were things I wanted to do—improve my health, lose weight, shape up—and I needed a coach’s insight to ensure I reached those goals. 

When I read this week's scriptures, I saw a parallel between two of the passages and all my times at the gym. When I’m working out, I am focused on that moment. My coach, though, is thinking about all of it: where I've been; what I'm doing right then; how that activity, in concert with others the trainer has planned, moves me toward my objectives—and, of course, what's next. 

It's kind of like that for the disciples in the Luke and Acts 1 passages. They are told to expect someone who will serve as teacher and guide, someone who will help them achieve the goals set before them. They didn't know what was coming. But they believed the one who told them a helper would come, and they acted from within that belief.

Even now, when I’m nearing the end of my treadmill time, I start thinking about stopping early. Part of me—the really tired part—suggests I don’t really need to keep at this, that it’s just too hard, that it doesn’t really benefit me. But then, I hear the calm voices of my trainers from over the years encouraging me: "You can do this. Just a bit more. Almost there." They knew what I was capable of, knew how much more I could bring to the task, knew how much more would be required of me before I could rest.  

The Spirit is like that with us. When the going gets hard, we need to listen for that voice deep inside: "You can do this. Just a bit more. Almost there."



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PHOTO: Steve Orr dressed for Little League

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We're getting together Friday mornings at 8:00 for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast.  Join us on Zoom** or in person at the Our Breakfast Place. Great food, great Bible discussions, and great fellowship.   

No sit-ups required.

Blessings,
Steve


**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera and microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK

Ascension of the Lord (May 26, 2022)
Acts 1:1-11

Psalm 47 or Psalm 93

Ephesians 1:15-23

Luke 24:44-53


Read them here: 


Print them here:

https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_AscensionoftheLord.pdf

 

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Seventh Sunday of Easter (May 29, 2022)

Acts 16:16-34

Psalm 97

Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20-21

John 17:20-26


Read them here: 
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Saturday, May 21, 2022

Semicolon Tattoos and Groundhog Day (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

 


In the movie, Groundhog Day, Weatherman Phil Connors woke up 13,395 times to find he was still in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, forced to repeat the same day over and over. Every day was—still Groundhog Day!

Whether it’s 10 years worth of days or, as Director Harold Ramis later said, “more like 30 or 40 years,” that’s a really long time to be trapped in a repetitive nightmare. 

In his endless holiday repeat, Weatherman Phil works his way through various stages. The first few times, he’s just confused. Eventually, though, he steals, acts maliciously, exploits those around him, cheats at Jeopardy, indulges every whim and vice. He even kidnaps Punxsutawney Phil (the groundhog), leading authorities on a high speed car chase. And then, after who knows how many thousand Groundhog Days, Phil becomes depressed. He is so depressed at his inability to break free from the shackles of this seemingly endless redundancy that he  attempts suicide.

Over and over and over. 

That’s where the semicolon comes in. When writers decide it’s time to pause, but aren’t ready to end the sentence, they use a semicolon. It’s a way of letting the reader know there’s more to come. 

Recently, some who have attempted suicide are getting a semicolon tattoo inked onto their skin, often at the site of their last unsuccessful attempt. They wear that tattoo to send a message that this is not the end, to declare they have chosen to continue on. They want to make something clear to everyone, especially themselves.

There’s more to come. 

When Jesus encountered the invalid in this week’s Gospel of John passage, that man needed a semicolon in his life. He was living on the edge—literally, on the edge. He was near the healing waters of the Pool of Bethesda, but not right by the pool. That distance, small as it was, meant he could never make it to the water in time to be healed. He had been suffering like that for 38 years. That means he woke up every day for about 13,880 days facing the same horrible existence. He faced all this, alone. He had no one to help him get to the pool. So, 13,880 occurrences of never being healed.

That’s a very long time to be stuck in what surely seems like an endless loop. A person would likely become depressed. This man had been living this way for something like 14,000 days, relief just a few feet away. And yet, it might as well had been miles away for all the good it did him. He could not break out of his endless loop. 

Is it any wonder he couldn’t give Jesus a straight answer when asked, "Do you want to be made well?"

That happens to a lot of people. They have lived so long in their struggle, they no longer recognize hope when it appears before them. After so many days, weeks, and years of no relief, their faith has worn thin.

For this man, though, Jesus inserted a semicolon. 

Jesus did not just heal the man. He sent him on his way. The message was clear. The man was not to linger at that location any longer. His situation had changed. He was to continue on. After 38 years of endless days, there was, suddenly, more to come. 

There’s a message here for us, too. Regardless of our circumstance, Jesus brings a semicolon to our lives. We are to continue on. 

There is definitely more to come. 


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PHOTO (and the story of semicolons and suicide): 


A great little article “The Sanctifying Silliness of Groundhog Day”: 

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Please join us for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast, Friday morning. We meet online on Zoom** and in person at Our Breakfast Place. It’s a quick hour from 8:00 to 9:00. It includes breakfast we order from the menu, scriptures we read aloud, and unfettered discussion. We say what we think, and we grow from listening to each other. 


And there’s laughing. 


Blessings,
Steve


**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera and microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK

Acts 16:9-15
Psalm 67
Revelation 21:10, 22-22:5
John 14:23-29 or John 5:1-9

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Thursday, May 12, 2022

Mel Brooks and the 15 Commandments (a Steve Orr Scripture reflection)

 

One of my favorite film moments comes from Mel Brooks’ History of the World, Part One. In the scene, Moses comes down from the mountain cradling three stone tablets. As he steps forward to tell the Israelites of the commandments God has sent for them to follow, he says, “The Lord Jehovah has given unto you these 15 (A tablet falls and shatters. Moses quickly holds up the remaining two tablets) ... 10! ... 10 commandments for all to obey!”

Watch that film clip here:

While the scene is funny, it also gets at something that has been on our minds ever since Moses came down the mountain: Was that it, just the 10? Are you one of the folks who wishes there were more than 10 Commandments? Do you believe we would benefit from just a bit more guidance from God? Maybe an 11th commandment? There have been many attempts over the millennia to add that extra layer of direction. 

This is a big part of what Peter smacked up against in this week’s selection from the Book of Acts. After baptizing some non-Jews, effectively including them as followers of Jesus, Peter is ”called on the carpet” for breaking several well-known Jewish “laws” in the process. He finds himself in trouble with “circumcised believers,” that is, people who closely follow Jewish codes of conduct and also believe Jesus is the son of God. Peter’s answer? He didn’t choose these people, God did. 

What those “circumcised believers” had forgotten is this: God made the rules, and God can amend them or make new ones at any time. In fact, Jesus did this kind of thing quite regularly: “You have heard (fill in the blank), but I say….” 

So. Is there an 11th? Maybe. I think there’s one ... but it’s not a commandant for everyone. We find it in this week’s selection from the Gospel of John: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." 

Well, there’s your 11th Commandment. 

It’s only given to followers of Jesus. And, differently from loving our neighbors and loving our enemies (each with its own challenges), this one is just about how believers are to treat each other. Jesus already knew that the “tent” of believers was going to get not only a lot bigger, but also a lot stranger than any of His earliest followers could imagine. He knew they (and we) were going to need that extra commandment.

We tend to love our neighbors and our enemies—at a certain distance. Oh, it’s not supposed to be that way, but it is the way most of us approach the matter. It’s pretty difficult, though, for us to hold other believers at a distance. We’re all scrunched up in here, together. 

We need that commandment. 

Here’s why: If we believers can learn to really love each other, we can start to learn how to love our neighbors. And if we can get to where we really love our neighbors, up close and personal, we can start the process of learning how to love our enemies. And if we can actively love our enemies—well, there’s no end to that kind of love. 

No more commandments needed. 


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Another Friday morning gathering of DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast. Can you join us? We meet online on Zoom** and in person at Our Breakfast Place. It’s a quick hour from 8:00 to 9:00. Somehow, we cram in tasty food, interesting discussions, a prayer, and some Bible reading. Oh, and we tend to get tickled a lot (not sure what it says about us that we find some of this funny, but there you go.)


Blessings,
Steve


**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera and microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK

Acts 11:1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35


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Thursday, May 5, 2022

Daniel and the Mean Girls (a Steve Orr scripture reflection)

 

The first time I saw Daniel, he was in our high school cafeteria, sitting all alone at a table with seven empty chairs. He had lank blond hair hanging over his eyes, wore a wrinkled army jacket, and sat hunched over his food tray. His knife was clinched in his right fist and his fork in his left, both pointed down. The body language was unmistakable: He expected an attack on his food and was prepared to defend it. 

In the movie, Mean Girls, the new girl in school is warned on her first foray into the cafeteria: “Beware of The Plastics” (i.e., the mean girls). Bullying. That was the problem with The Plastics in Mean Girls; not that they were a clique, but that the alpha Plastic was a sociopath. She used her alpha status to bully everyone else (“On Wednesdays, we wear pink”). 

What was it like in your high school? Did you have a “mean girls” clique? Were there groups that intentionally excluded people, groups that made exclusion a central part of their structure? We didn’t have a lot of that in my high school. So, I had to wonder: Why was Daniel sitting all alone, poised to injure the next person who reached toward his food?

Daniel had enemies. He had been bullied, a lot. By the time we met, Daniel was already a frightened, combative person. It was Daniel against the world at that point. He was so traumatized, he could no longer tell friend from foe, so victimized that anyone who came near him was suspect. For many, this would be the “darkest valley” referenced in this week’s 23rd Psalm (“the valley of the shadow of death”)—a horrible, hellish existence of hyper-vigilance, never broken by a moment’s peace. 

The 23rd Psalm sounds pretty pastoral—at first. But then you realize some hard times must have preceded those “green pastures” and “still waters.” There are reasons David needed the Shepherd to restore his soul. Did David write those words while fleeing for his life, King Saul’s soldiers dogging his trail? Or perhaps it was when he was playing music and Saul hurled a spear at him. At what point did David finally admit to himself that Saul really was his enemy?

I wish I knew whatever happened to Daniel. My attempts to befriend him failed. Sadly, my last impression of him was the same as my first, the exact opposite of the 23rd Psalm. I sometimes imagine what it would be like for Daniel if God showed up for lunch one day and saved him a place at the table. What if God made him the guest of honor at that meal, one at which he could eat without fear, one at which no bullies had power over him? A lunch so grand, and a peace so abiding, that inviting his enemies to join him would feel like the very right thing to do. 

Today, we still have our mean girls and guys, are still excluded from certain tribes, even as adults.

Imagine the relief of having the most powerful being in existence set a feast before you, right where your enemies can see you, right where they can see you and God, together. That’s a powerful image. 

At that point, you would have options. Do you eat and run? After all, those onlookers are still your enemies. Do you eat and smirk? I mean, what can they do to you? Clearly, God is on your side. 

Or, do you invite them to the feast?

Well, God has set a table before us, and it is in the presence of our enemies. 

Now, what do we do with that?


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We're gathering for DaySpring’s Lectionary Breakfast Friday mornings on Zoom** and at Our Breakfast Place. We talk about the Bible while we eat breakfast. Join us at 8:00 for some tasty food, some interesting Bible, and some exhilarating discussion. 


Oh! And we laugh. A lot.


Blessings,

Steve 


**Contact me for the Zoom link

NOTE: Zoom allows you to mute the camera and microphone if you don’t wish to be seen or heard.

SCRIPTURES FOR SUNDAY AND THE COMING WEEK


Acts 9:36-43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-30


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