Focus on the Doers

In so many ways

in too many words

the common refrain

echoes in several forms:

“I don’t want to.”

“You can’t make me.”

“It’s my choice, respect it.”

“I won’t trust my future to their promises.”

With freedom misunderstood

selfishness reigns

as “the common good” is replaced by

“what’s in it for me.”

Truths we thought would march on,

providing “liberty and justice for all”

have been mothballed

by unenlightened self-interest.

Better to focus

on the righteous old man

of whom it is written

“he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him.”

Choose the example

of the courageous young woman

who told her private messenger

“let it be to me according to your word.”

Having yielded rights

to welcome responsibilities

they became the first teachers

of the child entrusted to their care

as he learned his Father’s business

and grew up to say

“In everything do to others

as you would have them do to you.”

Doing what comes faithfully

work for the good of all

living like Jesus

who found the power to serve

down on his knees

yielding life to our Heavenly Parent:

“Not what I want but what You want,”

“Your will be done.”

 Have a Blessed Christmas!     James E. Thyren, © 2021

 

A Seam of History - (a sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church, Hawley, PA on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 19, 2021.)  Scripture Reading: Luke 1. 39-56 

       The village of Ein Karem in the hill country of Judea is the place traditionally associated with Mary’s visit to the home of Zechariah and Elizabeth.  Paul Simpson Duke, a pastor from Michigan visited the village.  He tells of a contemporary sculpture on display and the artist’s attempt to capture the moment the two women met. He writes:

            “Here the two women stand erect and very close to each other. Their faces are carved smooth and almost expressionless, except for their slight smiles.  Mary’s hands are on her hips; Elizabeth’s arms hang straight down, open-palmed, while her torso tilts slightly backward, as women in later pregnancy will often do.  The result is that the two women’s bellies—Elizabeth’s well rounded and Mary’s barely convex—are very nearly touching. It is as if the two women are physically introducing their sons, who will be, like their mothers, wonderfully related and strikingly different.”[i]

            Duke continues, “This dynamic—of deep kinship embodied in indispensable difference —is always present in the community of Jesus.”  He explains that “This is powerfully exemplified in the bond between Elizabeth and Mary. Both women bear in their bodies the children of promise, given wondrously by the Spirit; but they draw near to each other from different ends of more than one spectrum. Elizabeth, married to a priest, is established, secure, and known to be “righteous…living blamelessly according to the commandments.”[ii] Luke said that when he introduced Elizabeth and her husband, Zechariah, earlier.

            On the other hand, Duke points out, “Mary, unwed and suspiciously pregnant is socially the opposite. They also come from different ends of the spectrum of age and expectation.  Elizabeth in her old age arrives from a circumstance too late for a child; Mary in her virginal youth comes from a circumstance too soon for a child. John is a miracle after the ending; Jesus is the miracle before the be-ginning.  The slim space between the two women (in the sculpture) turns out to be a seam of history: the child brought forth by one them will close an age; the other child will inaugurate a new one. From an Advent perspective, we see that, like Elizabeth and Mary, we stand in the between times, and like them, as different as we may be from each other, we are ‘expecting’ and rejoicing together.”[iii]

            It is tempting in the between times we are experiencing to exaggerate our differences to the point of thinking there is no way we might do anything together.  We stand in the middle of what appears to be another seam of history, with a time of cooperation, peacemaking, and building dreams together on one side, and a time of competition, troublemaking and tearing down on the other.  The faith exhibited by these two women, who trusted the promises made to them, offer encouragement to do likewise.

            Elizabeth and Mary standing belly to belly is a scene in stark contrast to so much of what we have been exposed to of late, where differences are so pronounced that our elected leaders talk past one another without even listening. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this brief visit to the Judean hill country could open some eyes to embrace the possibility of people who are separated by age and economic status and public perception, becoming allies working together?

            It might seem that one can only hope and pray about this, because it feels like there is nothing much we can do. But there is.  One can do one’s best to recognize the truth that what we share in common far outweighs what we don’t.  We can make sure we don’t replicate in the family, the church, and in our other associations, the attitudes and behaviors that divide. Instead, we can model modes of collaboration. We can seek out and pass along word of people working together for the betterment of all.

            First Presbyterian Church, Hawley Pennsylvania is uniquely positioned to understand what was taking place when Elizabeth and Mary brought their sons into the world.  One era was ending and a new one was beginning. On this last Sunday of Advent, the part of your journey led for so long by Bill, and then briefly by Joanne and Carl are now history.  On Christmas Eve your new pastor, Mark, will step into this pulpit as the journey you’ll take together begins.  As Elizabeth and Mary voiced their thanks to God for what God had done, they embraced a vision of what God had yet to do.

            Take another look at young Mary scampering off to visit Elizabeth. No one, not even that angel told her to go. It was her decision. Nothing is said about why she went, though Paul Duke raises a number of possibilities on the way to discovering something we need to remember.

            He starts by asking a series of questions: “Why does she go? For confirmation that the promise is true? For companionship with the only person in the world who would understand? For the nurturing wisdom of the older woman? For the privilege of helping her through the last months of her pregnancy? For a mutual quickening of courage?  For the sheer joy of it?”[iv]

            After raising the questions the pastor offers an insight: “Reasons such as these—confirmation of the promise, companionship with kindred hearts, the exchange of wisdom, support and courage, and the flourishing of joy—are among the very reasons we join together in the church. How can we not? The visitation is the first gathering of the community of Jesus. It invites us to recall how much we need each other, to draw fresh courage from each other, and to celebrate all we share as bearers of the promise together.”[v]

            Doubt what a blessing it is to have each other? Try getting here early enough to watch as the congregation gathers.  Hugs and handshakes and kisses may have been knocked out by Covid considerations, but there are fist bumps and elbow knocks, and good natured ribbing abounds. Quick conversations fill each other in on how the week has been. Stick around afterward as clusters form here and there and as the tables fill up for coffee hour. A fly on the wall would hear struggles shared and encouragement offered.  Keep your eyes open outside and you’ll see bags of hand-me-downs being transferred from one car to another for the kids or grandkids. And during the week, you might find yourself sitting at a traffic light and realize that the car ahead of you has one church member behind the wheel driving another to a doctor’s appointment.

            When Mary showed up at Elizabeth’s door, after the in-utero gymnastics of the Spirit inspired prenatal prophet in the older woman’s womb, the Spirit filled his mother, allowing her to really see who it was who came to call on her.  Like son, like mother and vice versa!  Elizabeth erupts with words that echo the angel’s promise Mary heard be-fore she hit the road:

“Blessed are you among women,

and blessed is the fruit of your womb,” she begins.

And after reporting on her baby’s sudden somersault, she adds one more blessing:

“and blessed is she who believed that there would be

a fulfilling of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

            There’s a whole lot of blessing going on here.  Note the two reasons Elizabeth gives for calling Mary blessed. She is blessed because she was chosen by God for a particular purpose, to raise God’s Son. She is blessed because she believed the word of God. Unlike Moses and Jeremiah, who tried to talk their way out of doing God’s bidding, Mary chose to accept being chosen. “Let it be with me according to your word,” she answered signaling her belief and willingness to be part of the new thing God was doing.

            That new thing was tied up with things God had been doing all along.   Elizabeth’s late-in-life nursery preparations recall God at work through Sarah’s womb back in Genesis, and brings to mind other women who were called “blessed among women” throughout the Old Testament. So does the song Mary sings when Elizabeth pauses to catch her breath. The memory of all these other “blessed among women” move us away from some of the Christmas Carol and greeting card portraits of Mary.

            After quoting some familiar phrases about Mary from the Carols we love, Jill Duffield exclaims: “It is no wonder when we envision Mary, we picture meek, mild, gentle, young, and vulnerable.”[vi]  Then she adds a quick survey of the “blessed among women” who came before her. She starts with Hannah, “the woman once so overcome with grief in the temple that Eli thought she was drunk” Once she dandled her son Samuel on her knee, she sings a song from which Mary borrowed a thought or two. Hannah laughed at her rivals, praising God ‘for blasting enemies out of the sky and leaving them in a burning heap. Nothing meek or mild or gentle here,” says Duffield.[vii]

             Next she points to Jael, who appears in the Book of Judges at the time when Deborah was in charge. Jael was labeled as “most blessed of women” after she lured the commander of a rival army on the run into her tent, gave him a cold drink of water and a place to sleep. While he slept she took a hammer and drove a tent peg through his head, eliminating the threat to her people. Again, blessed, but not for being meek or mild or gentle.

            Duffield tells of another woman who appears in one of the books included in the version of the Bible used by our Catholic and Orthodox cousins.  In the Book of Judith, the woman for whom it is named is praised after she tricks an enemy general and, gets him drunk.  Then, while he’s passed out, she wields a sword to send his head rolling. Hannah, Jael and Judith were hardly passive vessels. They were blessed among women for doing what needed to be done.

            That is where their connection with Mary begins and ends, doing what needed to be done.  Mary’s toughness and tenacity, first shown in her teenage trek from her home to Elizabeth’s pops up in the gospel stories whenever she appears. 

            When she and Joseph brought the infant Jesus to the Temple, Simeon told her “A sword will pierce your soul.” Twelve years later her heart was in her throat when he tarried with the teachers in the temple for three days before they found him.  Skip ahead almost two decades and there came a time when she showed up with his siblings to haul him home because they thought he’d lost his mind. And then came the day when, as predicted, her soul was pierced as her son drew his last breath on the cross.

            In contrast to the other blessed women of the Bible, Jill Duffield says Mary’s “is not to be a military victory accompanied by the cheers of her people. She will ponder things in her heart. She’ll witness the murder of her son. Mary alone bears God, ushering in the incarnation that will save not just Israel, but all creation. Mary births the Prince of Peace, not a judge or a prophet, an earthly king or a military leader. Mary exhibits her strength not through tent pegs and swords, but through giving her body to birth and nurture the one who will surrender his body on the cross. She is called blessed for generations not because she entices a military general into trusting her, but because she trusts God wholly.”[viii]    

            In God she trusted.  So did Elizabeth.  Each of them were blessed by being part of God’s plan.  Note well that being blessed is not a free pass to avoid life’s hardships. You just heard some of the hard times Mary’s heart had to ponder. We don’t know if Elizabeth lived to receive the news that her son was murdered.  William Barclay called it “the paradox of blessed-ness.” Reflecting on what some would label a mixed blessing, he said “To be chosen by God so often means at one and the same time a crown of joy and a cross of sorrow.  The piercing truth is that God does not choose a person for ease and com-fort and selfish joy but for a task that will take all that head and heart and hand can bring to it.”[ix]

            One of my early mentors put it this way: “Nobody ever said it was going to be easy.”  Never-theless, inspired by the Spirit both Elizabeth and Mary stepped up to the challenge. In today’s passage, each of them offers Spirit inspired speech.  Each of them expresses gratitude for what God has done.  Together these two women speak prophetically of what God will be doing on the other side of that seam of history.

            Echoing the words Hannah sang when Samuel was conceived, Mary begins her song with gratitude for having been chosen.  Before long she is lifting her voice to paint a picture of what God will do through the son she will bring to birth.  One scholar points out what makes Mary’s song so interesting: “It speaks of a future God will bring in through the yet-to-be-born messiah using past tense verbs. God looked, did great things for me, showed strength, scattered the proud, brought down the powerful, lifted up the lowly, filled the hungry, sent the rich away empty, and helped Israel.  There is a sense, then, in which Luke is proclaiming that already at the point of awaiting the coming of the messiah, salvation is already a done deal.”[x]

            To the paradox of blessedness, we have now added what Wesley Allen, Jr. calls “the paradoxical prophesy.” He writes: “Already the reign of God has arrived, but when we look around at the world we plead that God’s reign might yet come. Is not this the paradox of Advent itself: Christ already came (born, preached, healed, opposed the powers-that-be, died, resurrected, and ascended) and yet we begin the Christian year waiting, preparing, and hoping for him to come?”[xi] 

            He continues: “At the center of the paradox is the concern for why Jesus came/is coming,” and goes on to say that while we often answer that in terms of being saved individually, “Mary will not allow us to think of individual salvation apart from Jesus turning the power structures of the world on its head.” He concludes: “As the beginning of the Magnificat that focused on the reversal of Mary’s situation cannot be separated from the latter portion that focused on systems of power being reversed, our salvation is part and parcel of saving the world.”[xii]

            What does that mean for us in this time and place?  It means that the God who was working then and there is also at work here and now.  It means that God, who called unjust and corrupt rulers to task through the prophets is still working to bring about change. As William Barclay put it so well, it means that in this seam of history, to welcome Christ is to work for a world, “where no one dares to have too much while others have too little, where everyone must get only to give away.”[xiii] Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

[i] Paul Simpson Duke, Connections—A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, Year C, Vol. 1, Editors: Green, Long, Powery & Rigby, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2018), p. 62
[ii] ibid.
[iii] ibid.
[iv] ibid, p. 61
[v] ibid.
[vi] Jill Duffield, Looking into the Lectionary blog; 4th Sunday of Advent, The Christian Century, Dec. 17, 2018, p. 1
[vii] ibid.
[viii] ibid, p. 2
[ix] William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible, The Gospel of Luke, (Philadelphia, The Westminster Press, Second Edition, 1956), p. 8
[x] O. Wesley Allen, Jr., “A paradoxical prophecy,” workingpreacher.com, Commentary on Luke 1.39-45 [46-55], for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 19, 2021, p. 1
[xi] ibid.
[xii] ibid., p. 2
[xiii] ibid. Barclay, p. 10

 BOXING FOR JESUS!

            On an unseasonably warm Friday morning in December, I traveled with ten others from First Presbyterian Church of Clarks Summit to the Monsignor Andrew J. McGowan Center for Healthy Living in Jenkins Township to put in a three hour shift at the Commission on Economic Opportunity’s  Weinberg Northeast Regional Food Bank.  In the far end of a massive warehouse, together with two strapping young Mormon Missionaries, we lined up on either side of a series of rollers.  A very helpful Food Bank employee gave us our instructions.  From a towering pile at the far end 24 empty boxes at a time were placed on the conveyor.  Two people worked at building boxes and putting in a paper from CEO. Behind us were pallets piled with boxes of various food items to be added to every box. Each of us assumed responsibility for one or two items.  I handled 2 boxes of spaghetti and 1 bag of powdered milk per box.  Beside me someone was responsible for peanut butter and bottles of juice. Across from us was a gentleman who had charge of bags of instant potatoes.  Down the line people picked from pallets of cans to add soup, vegetables & fruits, and condensed milk.  There were boxes of cereal and packages of mixes to make chili and something else.  When all the ingredients were in place, the two Mormons taped the boxes shut, affixed labels to them, and piled them on a series of pallets that when filled, were hauled away by someone with a forklift.

            For the first few minutes filling the boxes was chaotic, with people bumping into one another while trying to get our items in each box.  There was lots of rearranging to move smaller pieces to make room larger items.  Then, by time the first 24 boxes were being taped and stacked and were replaced by empties, we gradually found a rhythm and developed a system for putting things in the boxes in an orderly fashion, with the heavier and bulkier things on the bottom and to the side, and the softer, pliable packages tossed in on top.  Before long we were working like a well-oiled machine.  Conversations took place, help was offered opening well-glued boxes, laughter was heard.  When all was said and done we had filled 371 boxes of food destined to be distributed to senior citizens throughout the region.  There was a mild celebration of the fact that our crew had out-boxed ten others from the church who piled up 285 cases two days earlier. But we have to concede that our two new Mormon friends helped put us over the top!  Three hours of effort, less a short break for water, left us tired, and maybe stiff and sore, with a sense of accomplishment and the knowledge that we had done a little something to address the food insecurity of our neighbors. 

“Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of these who are members of my family,

you did it to me.”

Matthew 25.40

 

Trail Markers                        Jeremiah 33. 14-16; Luke 21. 25-32

It is that time of year again.  Six nights a week when I settle into my chair facing the fireplace in the family room, I page my way through the pile of catalogs our mailman stuffed into our roadside mailbox.  The other night I chanced upon a T-shirt which captured a bit of wisdom I have come to love.  In white letters against a black background it announced:

People who wonder if the glass is half empty

or half full miss the point.

The glass is refillable!”

            Isn’t it amazing how the same sight can lead people to jump to totally opposite conclusions or miss the point entirely?  Take the title of today’s sermon, “Trail Markers.” It could refer to an axe blaze or a paint splotch or a bottle cap nailed on a tree so people can find their way a-long a trail. Or, it could refer to the people who took the time to swing the axe, paint the splotch, or nail the bottle cap to the tree so that the squiggly line on a map becomes a path one can follow. Then again, it might be a double entendre de-signed to tease the brain to promote both looking for signs along the way and posting signs to help others coming along later.  By the time I’m done I hope you’ll figure it out.

            One day during the last week of his earthly journey, Jesus was teaching in the beautifully rebuilt temple that would be reduced to rubble a few decades later.  He told those who gathered around to listen to notice the signs of God’s activity around them. 

            Minutes before, he had pointed out a poor widow putting two copper coins into the temple’s collection box, telling his disciples her simple gift was of more value than the large sums others put in out of their abundance.  Here is what Luke says happened next:

            “When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, he said, “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”  They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be, and what will be the sign that this is about to take place?”[i]

            Today’s reading from the Gospel come from the end of his answer. The words and images stand in stark contrast to the sweet pictures we’ll sing about later in the season.  Instead of Phillips Brooks’ hillside vision of the “Little town of Bethlehem,” sleeping deeply as silent stars make their nightly rotation across the sky,[ii] we are offered distressing signs in the heavens, on earth, and in thundering waves of roaring seas.

            Like the glass that is both half empty and half full, yet refillable, and the different meanings of “trail markers,” the signs in the heavens Jesus spoke of lead to three very different responses.  One commentator outlines them for us: “The nations react in bewilderment” and “people faint from fear,” these first two responses are inappropriate for God’s people. In his address to them, Jesus counsels [a third option], confidence (standing with raised heads), assured of God’s intervention. For them, the Day of the Lord is not an occasion for dread, nor is it a day to be avoided. Rather, it is the realization of God’s good news: “your redemption is near.”[iii]

            Our scholarly guide adds: “What makes the difference  is not a different set of events. They experience the same signs.  They experience those events and read those signs quite differently.  They grasp their significance as people whose frame of reference is guided by Israel’s Scriptures, particularly as these have been interpreted for them by Jesus.  Like fig-tree farmers who can set their calendars by observing their trees, those whose lives are shaped by Jesus’ proclamation of God’s reign grasp what time it is by what is happening around them.  They see the same things as everyone else, but, formed in relation to Jesus’ message, they see with different eyes.”[iv]

            To see with different eyes requires training. To follow the trail markers up to the Lookout at Camp Lackawanna requires that you have become familiar with the signs that distinguish that trail from the others. Not only that, as you are walking along, you must look up and look ahead to spot the next marker, especially when another path presents itself or a game trail invites you to veer off course. Add adverse weather conditions like a thick fog or one of today’s forecast snow showers and finding your way gets more difficult.

            Both of our readings this morning were written at times when the way ahead was not easily seen.  Conditions on the ground made it easy to conclude there was no possibility of God stepping in and stepping up to show the way. The chapters of Jeremiah known as the Book of Consolation were written while the people of Israel were living in exile. It wouldn’t have been easy for people to see the prophet’s vision of a day when the Lord would make good on the promises of old.  A day when all would be right again seemed beyond possibility.

            When Luke was writing his two volume orderly ac-count of the mission and ministry of Jesus and the church that sprung up to follow his word and continue his work, the people were in dire straits. The peaceful coexistence by which they had survived under Roman rule had been shattered; the temple had been destroyed just as Jesus had said it would.  The foreign power had dealt viciously leaving carnage and corpses across the land.  To read a book like Luke, that began with Mary’s Magnificat promising great reversals by which the mighty are brought low and the low-y lifted up, contradicted what was going on right before their eyes.  To hear Jesus begin his ministry saying: “the kingdom of God has come near,” and near its end claiming “your redemption is drawing near” was hard to hear.

            Maybe it still is.  A quick glance around our world reveals much that shows no sign of God’s kingdom come! Leaders can’t speak respectfully to or about one another. Lies, half-truths, and unmasked prejudice are rampant. A Christmas parade is transformed into a massacre by a driver fleeing after being involved in a domestic dispute. Unsportsmanlike conduct on a youth football field escalates to include parents and ends when one of them drives a car onto the field striking another. As the pan-demic ramps up once more, we hear warnings about the uptickin teenage depression and suicide.

            Is all this not an indication that we live at a time when a message of hope is needed?  Does this not make this a moment in which to cry out, “O come, O come Emmanuel?”

            Indeed it is. Hear what one woman who has studied our text says, weaving the past and the present together in way that calls us back to the Way:

            “When the present reality includes wars and political tumult (distress among nations), climate catastrophe (signs in the sun, moon and the stars), global pandemic (breathless from fear and fore-boding), unemployment, hate crimes, racist ideologies, death-dealing illness, displacement by terror, or anything else that traps people in fear or despair (weighs down hearts), it is then that we look for the coming of the Son of Humanity, the Christ whose promised future makes all the difference today.”[v]

            We might look at the signs of our times and conclude there is no reason to hope, that the downward spiral is unstoppable. Or, we might hear in them a call to look for the signs that God is at work around us.  We can find in them a call to follow the trail that has been marked for us and to mark the trail for others.  Presbyterian scholar Donald McKim puts the challenge before us this way: “We can live out God’s promise to Jeremiah, especially in Advent, when we look for signs of God’s reign in Christ around us, and when we plant signs of God’s reign in Christ with others.”[vi]

            I think he’s talking about trail markers; both kinds.

So let me share some of the signs I’ve read about. The first is a story that hits home as many of us lament that our children’s generation have distanced themselves from the church.  This story of hope comes to us from Jeanne Donstad Olsen, a chaplain from Bettendorf, Iowa. Rather than attempt to retell it, let me read it just as she wrote it in a submission to The Christian Century as part of The Buechner Narrative Writing Project.

            “He’s rude!” “He’s obnoxious!” “He’s volatile!” “He kicked all of us out of his room, and it wasn’t pretty.”

Three nurses agreed, “You don’t want to go in there, Chaplain!”

            “So be it—I’ll be the next one booted out—or not.”

            When I entered, the shades were closed and Butch was sitting on the edge of his hospital bed staring at the door The urine jug sitting on the tray table was half full, and that gave me pause as a possible weapon of anger. Butch was wearing a Harley Davidson T-shirt. I looked at him and asked, “So, have you got a Harley? From what I’m told they are the best motorcycles out there.”

            “Yeah, I do,” he said.

            “One of my sons has a Ducati and the other a BMW,”I said as he frowned, “but that Harley name seems to have the most followers.”  This was almost all I knew about motorcycles. “So which model do you have? How did you get started riding?” I asked.

            With a lot of colorful language, the conversation began to unfold. He told me all about his Harley cycles, showing his pride in the several models he owned, bragging about their tremendous power and the thrill he experienced riding them.

            “Have you ever been to Sturgis, South Dakota, for the annual Harley gathering?” I inquired.

            “You bet,” he said, “Have you?”

            “As a matter of fact I have! Quite the display of bikes and bikers.” I had been there for about 20 minutes among leather jackets and roaring cycles, but when I saw a woman chained to her man’s cycle I knew I was out of my comfort zone. Butch talked about his trip to the mecca of Harley: “I should be out there tonight riding, drinking beer with my buddies, meeting up with my gal. Instead I’m here.”

            I nodded. “I hear you, Butch, and now you are fighting a disease you never expected to have.” He talked about how he got AIDS and the repercussions of that. “I lost 50 pounds, lost my job, take drugs that make me weak and nauseous. I don’t have the strength to party with my friends, and I had to move in with my parents. I am scrawny, gaunt, and useless.  I hate being here! I am a walking shell of who I used to be.”

            About 40 minutes into the visit, he looked up at me and my name tag and asked, “Who the hell are you?” I held out my hand to shake his. “I’m Jeanne, the chaplain, and it has been a de-light to get to know you. There are a lot of things you have to do here to feel better and control your disease, but my visits are optional. I will stop by tomorrow and pop my head in, and you can say yes or no—your choice.”  He continued staring at me and then said, “You can come back.”

            I visited Butch most days of his two hospitalizations. He continued to share his story and his feelings of anger, longing, and frustration. Once after a sleepless night, he whispered, “Do you know what I do when the pain is so bad I can hardly stand it?”  I held my breath, given his past coping mechanisms.

            “I turn to him.” He nodded toward the Catholic crucifix on the wall.

            “I didn’t know you knew him,” I answered.

            “Oh yes.  I went to Sunday School as a kid. And he comforts me. He does. I guess I’m returning to my childhood faith, aren’t I?”  I put my hand on his thin arm, and said, “Yes, Butch.” He nodded with a tear in his eye.

            He died two days later. A nurse told me that his last expression was a smile.”[vii]

            A sign seen. A sign planted. Hope bursting forth in an unexpected place. Here’s another sign.

            By the end of the day we’ll probably hear about travelers behaving badly in airplanes or airports. Jill Duffield, then the editor of The Presbyterian Out-look, found herself in the busy Atlanta airport we’ve heard so much about lately.  She was awaiting the connecting flight that would bring her home.  She was eating her dinner in the food court.  Behind her was a woman tapping away on her laptop.  A young janitor came along to empty the trash can next to the laptop lady’s table.  The woman looked up from her work and struck up a conversation with the young man. The woman’s accent telegraphed where she was from before she told him she was from Minnesota.  She asked him if he was in school. He told her “no,” and explained that he had to work because he had a son on the way. “How exciting,” she exclaimed. “You have no idea how much your heart will expand.” She told him she had an 18-month old at home. The two continued to chat for a while, and before he moved on to the next trash can, she got the fellow’s name and address so she could send him baby clothes her son had out-grown. “Nothing fancy,” she said, “but good for every day.” He thanked her and told her to have a good flight.  She wished him well, and they each got back to their work.

            Jill got up to go to her gate and on the way stopped to thank the lady with the thick Minnesota accent. She told her she was moved by her kindness. The woman replied, “We need to be kind to each other.” Jill agreed. Reflecting on those moments, she later wrote: Neither earth nor heaven shook, nothing went dark, but that small exchange brought about a seismic shift in my attitude. Their shared humanity over impending new life bolstered my faith, and gave a glimpse of love and unity that is too often unseen. It gave me hope that redemption isn’t as far away as I feared.”[viii]

            One more quick story that struck me because it flies in the face of so much of the divi-sive, us against them talk that has fill our airwaves:

            Mindy Douglas, pastor of First Presbyterian-Durham NC put a picture up recently on the Facebook group, Happy to be A Presbyterian. It shows members of her church sitting outside at tables pitching in to assist their sister Presbyterian church, Iglesia Emanuel, in their weekly food distribution to their neighbors. The caption reports: “We made short work of repacking 3,000 pounds of beans and 3,000 pounds of rice into 1-quart bags. Each week, this small, but mighty, church distributes staples, including the beans and rice, fresh produce, milk and eggs to approximately 500 families that drive through the parking lot. It was a glorious, sunny day of "work" with lots of laughter and joy in being together.”[ix]

             Every day our redemption is drawing near. We have to look for the signs; we’re called to plant them so others can see them too. We are called to be trail markers in every sense of that phrase. Amen.

------
[i] Luke 21. 5-7
[ii] Phillips Brooks, “O LIttle Town of Bethlehem,” Hymn 121, Glory to God, The Presbyterian Hymnal, (Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2013)
[iii] Joel B. Green, Connections – A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, (Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2018) p. 13
[iv] ibid.
[v][v] Audrey West, workingpreacher.com, commentary on Luke 21. 25-36 for 11-28-21, p. 2-3 of printout
[vi] Donald J. McKim, Connections – A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, (Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2018), p.5
[vii] Jeanne Donstad Olson, “Return” in The Christian Century, November 21, 2018, pp. 23-24
[viii] Jill Duffield, from her blog, Looking Into the Lectionary, 1st Sunday of Advent, The Presbyterian Outlook, Monday, November 26, 2018, p. 2-3
[ix] Mindy Douglass, picture caption posted in Facebook group, Happy to be a Presbyterian, November 13, 2021.

THANKS FOR EVERYTHING?!!

    An inner dialogue reflecting on 1 Thessalonians 5. 16-18

"Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances..."

Be thankful for all things: for big things and small things,
    For winter, spring, summer and fall.
Be thankful for all things: for short things and tall things,
    For God has provided them all.
Be thankful for all times: for lean times and fat times,
    For moments that pass in a hurry.
Be thankful for all times: for happy and sad times,
    For God says that we should not worry.

Be thankful for all things? It must be your joking!
    For some things I cannot give thanks.
Be thankful for all things? I think I’ll start choking!
    Hey, what about bomb-wearing cranks?
Be thankful for all times? You must be delirious,
    For mean Tweets I cannot be grateful!
Be thankful for all times? You cannot be serious!
    I’ve no thanks for those who are hateful.

Be thankful for all things: for big things and small things,
    I thought I had made myself clear.
Be thankful for all things; for short things and tall things,
    With God we have nothing to fear!
Be thankful for all times: for cold times and hot times,
    God’s with us at all times you know!
Be thankful for all times: for bright times and dark times.
    In darkness God’s light still does glow.

I cannot be thankful when there is much sadness:
    My friend and her hubby have split!
I cannot be thankful when there is such madness:
    From work I am ready to quit!
You say, “Oh, be thankful!” but I have no bank full,
    Just an old car, a wife and a kid.
To keep my oil tank full is why there’s no bank full,
    God’s blessings from me must be hid!

You have got a point there. We’ve come to the point where
    This life is a difficult game.
So much is quite unfair, but please don’t give up there:
    God cares for us all just the same.
God really does care friend. God’s blessings descend, friend.
    But we are too busy to see.
God really is there, friend. God’s blessings show care, friend.
    All we have is from God, don’t you see?

That sounds good on paper, but here is the caper:
    What I have I got for myself.
That sounds good in theory, but don’t be so cheery:
    Your God is a good as an elf.
What’s up with a Master unleashing disaster,
    Who lets the world turn out this way?
I may be a real clod, but if there’s a good God,
    The world should be better, I’d say!

Now that is a tough one, a regular rough one.
    We hear that old song all the time.
It’s really a question of who’s lost direction…
    And God gets the blame ev’ry time.
God made us the world, friend, and gave it to us then,
    And what have we done with the gift?
From beginning to end, God has promised to send
    Guidance so we will not drift.

Do I hear you saying that we have been straying?
    That we’ve made a mess of this earth?
If that’s what you’re saying, we’d better start praying,
    and seek God for all we are worth.
Do I hear you saying that we have been playing,
    Ignoring the good things we have?
That God’s not deserting? That when we are hurting
    ‘Tis our God who pours on the salve?

The picture is clearing! I think you are hearing!
    For us God has done quite a lot.
The vision you’re seeing is really quite freeing.
    From God we’ve received all we’ve got!
Thanks to this insight, see it all in a new light
    Feast your eyes and see all that God shares.
Try using your peepers, life isn’t for sleepers,
    A good look reveals that God cares.

The world is a jungle, and often I mumble
    When obstacles clutter my way.
I frequently bungle, I slip, trip and stumble
    And “Thank You!” is not what I say.
Life’s full of big chances and weird circumstances,
    Can I give God thanks for them all?
Life’s full of high fences and coincidences,
     Can I give God thanks when I fall?

At all times and places, in all kinds of cases,
    Give thanks for the good that you see.
There’s always a basis—if only in traces
    Of how good things really could be.
Be looking with great care, there’s sometimes not much there
    For which to say, “Thank you, dear God.”
Be listening with tuned ears, especially in bad years
    For words of hope whispered by God.

Have I got this straight now? It isn’t too late now,
    To offer my thanks to the Lord?
If it’s not too late now, I’d sure like to state how
    My faith is being restored.
I know I am tardy, but I will be hearty:
    Loud songs of praise I will voice.
I know I’ve been selfish, and sometimes quite elfish,
    From here on I’ll always rejoice!

Be thankful for all things, for big things and small things,
    For flowers and bushes and trees.
Be thankful for all things: for weird off the wall things,
    For snow drifts piled up by a breeze.
Be thankful for all times: for high and for low times;
    For memories made with a friend.
Be thankful for all times: the ebb and the flow times;
    For silence when each day must end.

I’m thankful for old things, and all of those darn things
    We market as Rummage or Flea.
I’m thankful for worn things, for tattered and torn things
    That new owner’s welcome with glee!
I’m thankful for singers and good natured zingers,
    For laughter and sighing and tears.
For cornhusks and pumpkins, for old country bumpkins,
    And hound dogs with long, floppy ears.

Give thanks for potatoes and tasty tomatoes,
    For berries and carrots and peas.
Give thanks for sweet red beets, for yellow and green treats
    For honey and hard-working bees.
Give thanks for the tussles that strengthen the muscles,
    For growing, for dying, for birth.
Give thanks for the hard fights, the new lows & new heights,
    For struggles, for learning, for mirth.

I’m thankful for fam’lies; for large ones and small ones;
    For moms and dads, daughters and sons.
I’m thankful for kinfolk: for close ones and far ones,
    For old folks and li’l sons of guns.
I’m thankful for loved ones, those gift from above ones,
    Who love us through thin and through thick.
I’m thankful for buddies: for when water muddies,
    Together, like glue, we do stick.

Be thankful for churches and pretty white birches,
    For quilts keeping homeless folk warm.
Be thankful for hymnbooks and even crochet hooks;
    For shelter to weather each storm.
Be thankful for teachers and even for preachers,
    For grace-filled expressions of care.
Be thankful for people who meet ‘neath a steeple,
    For Jesus and Good News to share.

Be thankful for all times, for lean and for hard times,
    For moments that slip by too fast.
Be thankful for all times, for old times and new times,
    The present, the future, the past.
Be thankful for all things: for tried and for true things,
    For courage to answer God’s call.
Be thankful for all things: for Christ in your life things.
    For God has provided them all!
                                                    James E. Thyren © 2021*

*Parts of this poem date to November 1980 when it was first preached as a Thanksgiving Sermon for the East Guilford and Unadilla Presbyterian Churches.

It has periodically been revised and updated and presented at a meeting of Susquehanna Valley Presby-tery, Community Thanksgiving Eve Services in West Pittston and Wilkes Barre, and in the Presbyterian Churches of West Pittston and Wyoming, PA.. The latest tinkering and tweaking continued until three hours before I preached it on November 21, 2021 at Covenant Presbyterian Church in Scranton, Pennsylvania.