Thursday, February 9, 2017

                Where’s the salt of the earth when you need it?

                Having been away yesterday I have had to scour the city to find just a single bag of salt or even some ice-melter. After the ice storm on Tuesday our front sidewalk and steps are caked in three inches of rock-hard ice. The drive way is not much better. So this morning, I was on the hunt for anything that could put a serious dent in the ice. I really wanted to go ‘old school’ with those big, yellow bags of Windsor salt, meant for sidewalks. I am not sure that praying to find just one bag of salt is kosher but God was good. After my third try I found a store that still had the bags of the salt I was looking for and I bought three. One bag, for now, is, I hope, working its way through the ice.

                Allow me to remind you that in ancient times salt was once used as a measure of payment, hence the word “salary”, from the Latin “salarium”, being the stipend, or originally "salt-money” as a soldier's allowance for the purchase of salt. The ancients might be very shocked and surprised, I think, how we simply toss salt under foot to be trampled on.

                Of course, salt has many other uses, especially in cooking. I love a little salt on a fresh, just-picked-from-the-garden tomato, or salt on my popcorn, or salt on my French fries. Although one of my all-time, favourite lines comes from the comedian, the late John Pinette, who wondered aloud why they gave extra packets of salt with a KFC meal. “Who has ever tasted some KFC,” he asked, “and then said, ‘Hmm; needs more salt'?'”

                Salt has a sacred quality among its many uses and characteristics, especially as an agent for purification or cleansing.

Moses was commanded to make an incense to be used in the temple, “seasoned with salt, pure and holy,” (Exodus 30:35). In Leviticus, the people are told to “add salt to their offerings,” (Lev.2:13). I believe the actions were to be symbolic of the purity and cleanliness of what was being offered to God.  The covenant between God and his people was sealed with salt (Number 18:19).

                Then of course, there is the interesting saying that comes from Jesus, “Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt among yourselves, and be at peace with each other,” (Mark 9:50). But I appreciate how The Message unpacks the same saying out of Matthew: “Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavors of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage.” (Matthew 5:13).

                I love that bit about bringing out the salt-flavours of this earth.

                Our salty language is not to be filled with curse words, biting and stinging words, insults, name-calling, rudeness, criticisms, complaints and the like but we are to season the world around us with the salt of loving actions, to be sacred and powerful agents of positive change, and to be a tasty enhancement of what God is doing in the world through and by the followers of Jesus. “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer everyone,” (Colossians 4:6).

                This world, now more than ever, needs salty Christians and anyone who will melt the world’s icy hatred and cold hearts, the world’s frosty reception toward outsiders or the poor or the needy, the world’s chilling biases against each other, the world’s sub-zero fear of who or what is different.

                Where’s the salt of the earth when you need it?

Dale

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

                Despite taking World Religions in University over 40 years ago, to say that I understand Islam would be a gross exaggeration.  I have read little bits of the Koran but never the whole thing. What I think I know about Islam doesn’t appeal to me, personally, but faith is not about what simply appeals, but where one finds true inner and spiritual strength to face the day. To that end and in light of the few wonderful Muslims whom I have met over the years, I have great respect for them. Day by day, they are no different than any of us.

                But I do know the Bible and I do know Christianity, and best of all I try to know and then follow Jesus Christ. What has happened in Montreal especially but the rising prejudice in the world would, I’m  sure, offend my Lord greatly. Therefore, it should and must offend any one who asserts that he or she is a follower of Jesus. It must pain the One who so loved the world that some Christians affirm, maybe not the violence, but the rhetoric and biases against Muslim people.

                Why do I say that Jesus would be imploring love, tolerance and generous  hospitality in this conflicted, angry and judgmental day and age?

                Well, first of all, Jesus was a Jew and his beliefs were anchored in what we call the Old Testament. And yes, there is a lot of xenophobic, judgmental commentary in the Bible but, at its best, the community was told to welcome the alien into their neighbourhoods. “You shall not oppress a resident alien; you know the heart of an alien, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt,” (Exodus 23:9). In fact, I would argue that the Kingdom Vision is not one of exclusion but inclusion.  “For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations,” (Isaiah 62:11). The need for brevity does not permit me to explore this further, but it is very easy to find this critical thread of diversity and inclusion in many, many sections of scriptures.

                As for Jesus himself, well, his actions speak as loud as his words, even though his actions of inclusion, acceptance and love for all got him into plenty of hot water with the fearful, narrow minded, religious crowd of his day. But he preached and then lived out the meaning of loving one’s enemies. "You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven…’” (Matthew 5: 43 – 45). He didn’t say anything about this love being easy, safe, comfortable, convenient, reciprocated, or rewarded immediately. In fact, you’re being persecuted. But I think he believed that such love, if practiced consistently, thoroughly, thoughtfully, intentionally, ceaselessly, generously and repeatedly might actually and eventually help contribute to the building of his Kingdom, “for the healing of the nations,” (Revelation 22:2).

                Such a love as Jesus had for every one was met with violence. He had reached out to Jew and Gentile alike, to enemies like the Romans and had walked among the hated Samaritans. He gathered tax collectors and prostitutes. He loved children. He treated women with respect. He touched lepers who were ostracized from society. But, in part, it got him killed and murdered by the respectable and the decent and by those in power. Jesus would abhor the evil, sinful, terrorist acts of Muslim or Christian or government or nation. But he would not abandon the victims of these deplorable actions.

                It was deeply moving to see the picture of Pope Francis washing the feet of Muslims this past week. It was symbolic of what Christianity should look like and how it should be practiced by us each and every day.

                “The Son of Man will take his place on his glorious throne. Then all the nations will be arranged before him and he will sort the people out, much as a shepherd sorts out sheep and goats, putting sheep to his right and goats to his left. Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Enter, you who are blessed by my Father! Take what's coming to you in this kingdom. It's been ready for you since the world's foundation.  And here's why: I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was homeless and you gave me a room, I was shivering and you gave me clothes, I was sick and you stopped to visit, I was in prison and you came to me.'  Then those 'sheep' are going to say, 'Master, what are you talking about? When did we ever see you hungry and feed you, thirsty and give you a drink? And when did we ever see you sick or in prison and come to you?' Then the King will say, 'I'm telling the solemn truth: Whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me - you did it to me.' Then he will turn to the 'goats,' the ones on his left, and say, 'Get out, worthless goats! You're good for nothing but the fires of hell,” (Matthew 25: 31 – 42, The Message).    

And if that doesn’t make you stop and think in this Trumped-up world of ours, nothing will!

Dale

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

                So, this past Monday lived up to Monday’s reputation as a bad day. I spilled my morning cup of coffee.

 I was sitting on the couch with the laptop on my lap and watching the TV. It was my fault as I wasn’t looking where I was setting the cup down and over it went. In a split second, I made some vital decisions. I managed to get the laptop out of the way. I also managed to get some of me out of the way. Most of the coffee landed on the arm of the sofa and the seat from which I had leapt. It turned out that the one piece of essential equipment that I didn’t save was the TV’s remote control. It got a good dousing and soon went very dead.

                The remote control is the greatest invention of humankind of all time.

                I don’t know how it is for the people (probably men) in your household but my remote control is a part of my hand when I am watching TV - like it was fused or grew there. Oh, the TV still worked although I had to get up or actually get down where the cable box was in order to change channels. Normally (?), I have the changer in my hand, and driving Susan crazy, I flip channels at frequent random, constantly check the guide, watch several sports games almost simultaneously, and best of all I have the wonderful mute button to silence the commercials.

                So there I was, frozen to watch the same channel because it was too much work and bother to change channels. I had to listen to all the commercials (some which make a lot more sense since I’ve now heard the dialogue), and was dying to know the score of the hockey game. My fingers twitched at some phantom remote. I felt powerless. I felt anxious and uncomfortable like there was something missing from my life.  It was torturous.  It is almost as bad as going without the internet or TV itself. I have been a TV addict since I was a toddler. A guy can’t just go cold turkey when it comes to his TV changer.  (It dried out and now works. Praise the Lord!)

                We have become so used to what makes life convenient, fast, instant and self-serving that we deem it such a hardship when it doesn’t go our way, no matter how small and trivial it may really be. It has been said that we shouldn’t sweat the small things and although that is pretty good advice, many of us will react as if these things are apocalyptic, i.e. the end of the world.  We can fuss and fume and get our knickers in a knot over the slights, snubs and inconveniences that we all experience in our lives. We can become so annoyed when things don’t go our way. We can sulk and pout when life throws us a curve and it doesn’t fit our day’s plan. Been there, done that, and the T-shirt is in the wash.

                There are enough big things in our lives worth our concern, prayers and attention. The small “tests” are annoying for sure, but they pass and we are none the worse for wear.

                To put in in Jesus’ words, “For where your treasure is there your heart will be also,” (Matthew 5: 21).  If we are gathering all the lesser and smaller annoyances, disturbances, inconveniences, frustrations, irritations, dislikes, exasperations and pettiness into some sort of keepsake box then we are amassing nothing. It will be heavy but worthless.

                Look, life is not always easy. It can be challenging. It is certainly not about remote controls.  But Jesus did leave us with something worthy to concentrate on through it all: “Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence. This is the most important, the first on any list.  But there is a second to set alongside it: 'Love others as well as you love yourself,” (Matthew 23:  37 – 39 The Message).

                That makes fussing over a coffee-drenched remote seem kind of silly. 

Dale

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

                Obituaries are curious things. (I betcha that I have your attention now, don’t I?)

 “The first thing I do each morning is to read the obituaries in the newspaper,” an old person often jokes. “If I don’t see my name, I go make breakfast.”

I am not sure if it means anything but the Globe and Mail attaches its large, Saturday edition of obituaries at the back of the Sports section. Hmm!  I always skim through them every Saturday, not because I know any of the people or even expect to, but because these are not the usual obituaries – name, day of death, names of loved ones and relatives, date, time and place for a service of some kind (if any).

Many of these obituaries are lengthy narratives about the dearly departed one’s life. There may be a picture of the person, sometimes a much younger version of the person. There are extensive biographies – educational background, employment, interests, hobbies, etc. Nothing is left out – sometimes the smallest detail is thrown in. One man is described as the “intellectual heart of the family.”  Another person is described as “always outward looking and curious and believed in seeing equality in all mankind.” A woman is praised because “her dining table became a home-away-from- home.” Or there was the woman who was described as someone who “touched the hearts of everyone she met through her kind and giving spirit, unconditional love, her strong faith and her passion for life.”

The one obit which especially caught my eye and inspired this blog was for the woman who was an artist. It made me smile to read that she “loved her privacy and would not have wanted you reading this.”  But it was the sentence on how to honour her memory which made me think: “please take something that you sort-of-like from your house and leave it on the curb for someone else to enjoy.”

At first, it seemed an odd suggestion. I presume the woman may have been an advocate for recycling or perhaps she saw beauty in what others deemed to be ugly or unwanted. One person’s trash is always somebody’s art, sort of thing.

But it also spoke to me as an analogy. All the people whose obituaries graced the Saturday pages left something on the curb for others to enjoy and recycle in memory and imitation of the ones who have been lost in this life. It wasn’t usually big and splashy.  One man is remembered for tobogganing with his grandchildren. Another person is remembered for her “apricot jam and muffins.”  Good times at a family cottage appear regularly throughout.  Another will always be remembered for his “honesty, gentleness, sincerity, and sense of humour.” One will be remembered as a “beer aficionado, cheese connoisseur, bird lover and a lifelong learner.” You get the idea.

These folks gave away pieces of themselves all their lives. They were not perfect or saintly. Few ever became famous. But most of them contributed back to life, maybe more than they took or demanded. What they have left on the curb is not garbage or junk. These are characteristics that are reusable, recyclable, and very environmentally green.

“What are human beings that you are mindful of them,

                mortals that you care for them.

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,

                and crowned them with glory and honour.” (Psalm 8:4 – 5)

When I was taking my clinical training back in the day one of the exercises we were given was to write our own obituaries. It was meant, in part, to help us face our own mortality, as well as to respect and honour the lives of patients, some of whom were dying.

How will you or I be written up?

Dale

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

                As a Christmas present, I received this neat, little 6-inch iron skillet with some of the ingredients to make a small pizza. Sounds cool. But the operative phrase in that first sentence is “some of the ingredients,” i.e. only the flour and some spices. Providing everything else like cheese, mushrooms, tomato sauce, pepperoni. etc. is my responsibility. Fair enough.

                But then I read the very small-print directions. Yikes!

                There is mixing, kneading, proofing (?), waiting, warnings about hot handles, and yeasting.  It would be much easier to go the local pizzeria and order a couple of slices.

                Now I don’t know about your household. Maybe you are all wanna-be Martha Stewarts, but I can tell you that in our kitchen there is no chance of having any yeast on hand. I can’t recall the last time we needed yeast for anything. It seems a lot of bother to run to the store just to buy a package of yeast for this project when all I need is a ¼ of a teaspoon. I can’t see myself running to a neighbour asking to borrow a pinch of yeast.

                According to Wikipedia “yeasts are eukaryotic, single-celled microorganisms classified as members of the fungus kingdom.” Is this really something I even want in my pizza dough? (I looked up “eukaryotic” and don’t know much more that I did before – you’re on your own there.)

It goes on to say that the yeast lineage originated more than hundreds of millions of years ago.  If I did find any yeast in our cupboards, that seems about right.

There is more technical information than I ever need to know, but suffice to say what is relevant is that “yeast is used in baking as a leavening agent, where it converts the food/fermentable sugars present in dough into the gas carbon dioxide. This causes the dough to expand or rise as gas forms pockets or bubbles. When the dough is baked, the yeast dies and the air pockets ‘set’, giving the baked product a soft and spongy texture.”

                All I want is a pizza, not a chemistry project for the science fair.

                Yet, I am reminded of the story that Jesus taught: “How can I picture God's kingdom? It's like yeast that a woman works into enough dough for three loaves of bread - and waits while the dough rises,” (Luke 13, 20-21, The Message).

                In other words, to live the full, enriched, wholesome lives of being a part of God’s Great Vision for his Creation, we need to be open to the catalytic workings of spiritual rising and expansion that bubble up in us and give us the texture of being followers like Jesus (and I don’t mean soft and spongy!).

                Our lives may take some mixing, kneading, proofing, waiting as well as the spiritual yeast, but the final results are well worth the time and effort.  Sure, we live in a pizzeria-type world where things are handed to us, instantly, no fuss or bother. But what might the results be if we stirred in the yeast of God’s love, and we rose to the occasion of living our lives in compassionate kindness and tender justice.

                So, what’s stirring in your life?

Dale

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

                To quote Garfield the cat from a few days ago: “Brand new year; same old me.”  The only New Year’s resolution that I made was not to make any New Year’s resolutions. Nuts!  I just broke that one.

And that is why I don’t make New Year’s resolutions – the sense of inevitable futility.

I could resolve – should resolve? -  to walk the dog more frequently, lose a few pounds, fix the door knob on the basement door, build those book shelves that I need, tackle cleaning out the basement, but I should have done, could have done, and didn’t do any of those things last year. I am a model of inert consistency!

A little while ago my nearly 4-year-old grandson asked me why I always had peanut butter and toast for breakfast. Rather critically, I might add. His father then told him that even when he was the same age as William that I had peanut butter and toast for breakfast. Hey, sometimes I use Skippy peanut butter rather than Kraft peanut butter. Or I really go outside the envelope and add jam or honey. Every once in a while I go really wild and try chunky peanut butter.

Brand new year; same old me. I don’t let hanging up a new calendar intimidate me, let me tell you! You know what they say – if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Or my version, even if it is broke, just ignore it.

I am reluctant to confess that this seems very contrary to the Christian way of life which celebrates the new creation which comes with being a follower of Jesus. “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17) I will admit that I have a lot of days when it is the same old, same old. How about you? My get up and go has got up and went. I don’t want “new”; I want my old favourite sweater, sweat pants and slippers.  

But God apparently gets a kick out of anything new about his sons of Adams and daughters of Eve. I guess the old you and me aren’t perfect; so Jesus comes along and suggests we seek a new birth; to be “born again”, a concept that gets a lot of stereo-typical, bad press as a conservative, evangelical catch-phrase. But at its best and most meaningful it is a beautiful metaphor for human do-overs, second chances, finding redemption, being given hope for the future, finding wholeness despite any baggage we are carrying, the healing of old wounds, the letting go of the past, the passing on of forgiveness to others, the renewal of heart, mind, soul and body and ultimately reconnecting with our Creator and pleasing God with the best of our abilities, gifts, talents and love.

“What counts is the new creation,” (Galatians 6:15).

One of my favourite hymns begins: Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me. Spirit of the Living God, fall afresh on me.

Amen to that! 

Dale

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

                As a gift from a farmer friend from whom we bought our usual humongous turkey (28 plus lbs.) we received a goose – not a live one, sillies, but one all ready for the oven.  My maternal grandmother often prepared a very tasty, cooked goose over the Christmas holidays. I can’t wait until I dig in.

                My grandparents had a farm in Prince Edward County. They always raised a few geese over the year. As a child, I was deathly afraid of those geese, especially the ganders.  The ganders were always mean and nasty bullies. They would chase me all over the farm yard, nipping and pecking at my hind quarters and honking their disdain for me. I ran as fast as my little legs would take me. I swear that they were hiding behind the bushes just waiting and hoping that I was coming outside.

Fortunately, my grandfather had no such fear of these beasties. He’d warn them by shouting at them to “Shoo! Get away!”, and if that wasn’t enough to chase them away he’d pick up the gander by whatever appendage he could grab and fling the offending goose in the opposite direction.  That would always do it and I was free to trot off to the barn.

                I can eat any goose with an unwavering relish and joy!

                So here we are at the end of 2016 - what, if anything, is chasing you? What memory, what burden, what incident, what loss, what change, what argument, what injury, what event, what grievance, what wounded pride, what complaint, what gripe, what sorrow, what frustration, what disappointment, what discontent is pecking and nipping at your heart and spirit?  What are you running from or what, at least, what would you like to run away from? How often have you said: “I’ll be glad when 2016 is over” or “I hope that 2017 will be better?” Are you fearing what 2017 may bring, what’s hiding in the bushes?

I hope and pray that that all of you are anticipating the New Year with assurance, confidence, hope, fearlessness and courage.  But some of us, I know, hear honking right behind us!

                As often as the gander chased me, I still don’t remember that one ever actually caught me and hurt me; mostly thanks to my grandfather whom I trusted to intervene. It can end up sounding so facile and simplistic to proclaim that we need to trust God and everything will turn out right and fine.  Mature people, including mature Christians, know better.  But I also know that God will help me to make sure that no bullying factor of life will get the best of me – not without a fight at least. Sometimes, God has my back while I am running, but God also helps me face the backbiting, nasty, noisy, challenging, frightening, tormenting situations in which I may find myself. Sometimes, God chases the dark away; sometimes God leads me through it; sometimes God sends me people who get in the way and save me; sometimes God binds my wounds.  I could not run this race of living without my relationship with God.  Jesus taught me that! I am grateful.

                So, God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and I are waiting upon the future – 2017. I haven’t much of a clue what the year will bring, But I know that I am never alone; I am not without a Defender. I am not without an Encourager.  I am not without a Friend. I am not without Help.

                “So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?’” (Hebrews 13:6).

                Therefore, have a Happy New Year! Have a drum stick on me!

Dale