Telling Stories on the Sabbath
A few weeks ago, I read a fantastic article about the importance of story by Johanna Shapiro, a nurse, written from her medical perspective. The article stresses that doctors must pay attention to stories told to them by their patients, even though they may often be unreliable, meaning, they are not entirely true. Sometimes, people tell their doctors that they are doing much better than they really are doing because they want the doctor to be happy and successful or because they fear disappointing the doctor if they aren’t doing well. Sometimes, they talk about other nagging issues, insignificant to something they are really facing, because they cannot handle what might be grim news.
This article caused me to take pause. I spend most of my daily life as a hospice chaplain listening to people’s stories. Sometimes the stories are medical, sometimes they are not. Sometimes the stories are spiritual, sometimes they are not. But the article reminded me that regardless of their topic, regardless of their being entirely truthful or not, and regardless of who might be telling the stories—sometimes I hear from family members and friends and not patients directly—the stories need to be told and need to be heard. (more…)
Uncovering and Covering
My Grandpa Max of blessed memory had a sarcastic wit.
When my dad proudly showed him the elevated running track in the newly refurbished field house at the University of Iowa, Grandpa Max sniffed and said, “What are they running from?”
We are all runaways, though. The core of our Jewish narrative is the exodus from Egypt. We are a people descended from runaway slaves. Our Torah tells us – over and over — to remember the plight of the stranger for we ourselves were once strangers in Egypt.
Perhaps the most famous fugitive slave in modern history is Harriet Tubman. She herself escaped from slavery. Tubman then returned to the south, again and again, to help other fugitive slaves make their perilous exodus to freedom.
During the 2005-06 school year, when I was still a rabbinical student, I lived with my family in Jerusalem, Israel.
That year, I began to find out about a different kind of fugitive slave woman. I found out about human trafficking for forced prostitution, also known as sex trafficking. (more…)
A Lesson from the Pharaohs
My cousin Rickie was born a hunter. He was only two years old when he made his first solo hunt. Sometime during the morning, he left home wearing only his diaper and was accompanied by his dad’s two hunting dogs. Shortly after he left, he was missed.
His mother, my Aunt Frankie, thinking that he had to be somewhere nearby, called for him. When he didn’t answer, she looked around the yard and then in the tool shed. Not finding him, she walked into the edge of the nearby field. Again she called, “Rickie!” In a panic, she rushed to get her husband, my Uncle Rayvon, from a nearby field.
Within an hour, all our family members and neighbors had formed a search party and started walking through the fields and checking a nearby drainage ditch. Morning gave way to afternoon. A local crop duster took to the air, flying again and again over the fields hoping he would spot him. By late afternoon, the searchers regrouped and started methodically working their way back through the rows of soybeans and cotton that surrounded the house. (more…)
Getting Rid of the Clutter
Last year I had a recurring theme show up in my dreams. I found myself working in old houses that I was renovating – perhaps they were abandoned because I was always sorting through the belongings left behind. The little bit I know of dream work suggests to me that I am the old house and I had let myself neglect my Soul. Indeed, I found myself in the waking hours of the past few years often confronted with experiences and conversations that challenged my previously held beliefs or assumptions – whether about God or relationships or myself – and I was faced with sorting through what to keep and what to let go. The work has left me with a lot less clutter in my mind and heart, as well as a realization of how easily I accumulate thoughts and emotions that need not linger and take up valuable space. (more…)
William Tyndale, Martyr, Translator, Reformer
William was born a Briton and died a Briton–but he died as something even more than a citizen of the British empire. He had the wonderful opportunity to receive a high quality education in languages and religion. He attended Oxford where he received the Bachelor and Master of Arts degrees. Apparently, William thought that the amount of religious instruction he was receiving was inadequate for an ordained minister and he organized groups of students and ministers to study together. These small groups became sources of sustenance for William as he struggled through a desert of doubt and confusion. William felt that the Church was holding its treasures for itself and not offering anything to the huddled masses that filled the pews. There was a tension between being qualified to read the words of Jesus and being entitled to read the words that were the common possession of all of the People of God. (more…)
Yoga Theology: The Strength to Go Upside-Down
After twelve years of practicing yoga, I knew that it would happen eventually. It was inevitable. When I was teaching, I could easily avoid it. But a few weeks ago, it happened.
The instructor, standing in the middle of the room, said, “Darian, you want to try a handstand?”
He pointed to where he was standing. There was no wall where I could walk my feet to “kick up” into the handstand. There was no mat. There was just an empty floor, encircled by yoga students.
I gave the same answer I’d been saying to handstands and headstands for twelve years: “NO.”
The instructor seemed surprised. He started to say something, then stopped. “That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He called on a much braver soul than I, who practically ran to the middle of the room, to kick up onto her hands. (more…)
Rosh Hashanah Morning 2012
I once thought I had made an error, but I was mistaken.
It is an old joke. The point is not just that the speaker is confident in the perfection of his or her actions, but that he or she clearly states his or her imperfection and is completely blind to it. The first step in turning away from error is to recognize an error has been made.
This time of year is intended to foster meditation and introspection. We are to slow down in our headlong rush doing to consider what we have done and what we are doing. To engage in self examination to consider what we have done wrong, what we have done right, and what we might have done better. From there we seek the forgiveness of those we may have wronged in the previous year. We resolve to recalibrate our lives and shift our direction, to do better, to take our first steps down, we hope, a better road.
We are expected to continually examine our actions throughout the year and make small corrections to our aim and approaches as we go. Yet, this stop to pull the car to the side of the road, carefully read the map and look around us is useful. Surely we can feel we are on the right track when we have made a wrong turn several miles back. Repentance and forgiveness are always available, but to pick a special time to emphasize these activities is both useful and proper. So we have the lead up of the month of Elul for extra introspection and these ten days of awe of a further intensification of our self examination. (more…)
Matthew, Apostle, Evangelist, Beloved Outcast
Matthew had known desperation. That day he had been in the public square when Jesus came by. In his presence, he felt like he should hide his face from the teacher and healer of so many. Jesus had been healing and teaching some of the very same people that Matthew had been milking out of even more of their precious little money. He avoided Jesus’ eyes as he came by and his coin-purse felt a little heavier and a little more obvious than usual. It became apparent that Jesus was going to do a miracle and Matthew couldn’t take it anymore. He turned to slip away in the crowd noticing the eyes of his fellow Jews that were glad to see Matthew leave. He was desperate to get away from Jesus before his shame ate him alive. Just as he was about to slip past the edge of the expectant crowd, he heard somebody call his name. He turned around to see Jesus looking at him with a knowing and somehow loving look. He noticed that everybody else was looking at him, too. Jesus said, “Come follow me.” Matthew’s heart could stand it no longer and agreed to give into the shame that broke through to repentance and healing. He walked through the death of his self and found life more abundant on the other side. (more…)
Who Are You
A sermon offered at Eminence Baptist Church, Eminence, KY on James 3:3-12.
I have worked as the Spiritual Life Program Assistant at Cedar Lake for 1 year, as of yesterday. Enough about me, while here at Eminence Baptist, I feel compelled to let you know that I am a big fan of your pastor. He will probably not toot his horn, but I’ll say that his writings and his reputation provide a model for integrity and commitment throughout the Baptist denomination. For that and the invitation to speak this morning, I would like to say thank you.
Now after reading this passage over and over and over again, generally how I start this sermon writing process, I thought to myself, “Well, I guess that just about says it. Now, how do I fill the other fifteen to twenty minutes of the time in your pulpit?”
I must say that I appreciate clarity on behalf of biblical edification, but I would like room for at least SOME exposition on a topic! And there it is… my desire to ‘speak’ to the topic. See, I’m pretty creative in my fishing? (more…)
Baptists & My Best Friend’s Wedding
In the first year of my first pastorate, one of my best friends, John, got married over Thanksgiving weekend. I had started my job at the church in June, and he called a couple of months later to find out if I were coming to the wedding. The conversation basically was:
John: So are you coming to the wedding?
Me: Dude, I can’t leave my church this soon.
John: (silence) What do you mean?
Me: Well, I’ll only have been here for five months by Thanksgiving. I’d have to take off a Sunday. I can’t do that to them. They need me.
John: (more silence) That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.
Me: No, it’s not! You don’t understand what it’s like to be a pastor. Don’t even bother sending me an invitation because I’ll RSVP “no.”
John: I’m sending you an invitation! I still have hope that you’ll come. And that is still the CRAZIEST excuse I’ve ever heard!
Not only did he send the invitation, but John continued to pester me about coming to his wedding. I shared the story with my parents, expecting them to share in my irritation that “John just didn’t understand what it meant to be a pastor.” (more…)
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