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Pastoral Message, May 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

The month of May is full of commemorative holidays. There is Mother's Day, on which we give thanks for the "mothering" figures in our lives. There is Memorial Day, the last Monday in May, on which we remember with gratitude the women and men who died for our nation while serving in the military. And this year on May 9, we celebrate the 75th anniversary of our current church building's dedication.

There is much that can be said about each of these anniversary celebrations. I could wax poetic about the love and nurture we have received from the mothers, grandmothers, and caregivers in our lives. I could toss out statistics about the number of people who have given the ultimate sacrifice for our freedoms, going back to the earliest Memorial Days after the Civil War. I also could share anecdotes about the 1,700 people who squeezed in our sanctuary (and the hundreds more who gathered elsewhere in the building) on that Mother's Day in 1935 when the cathedral worship space for ELPC was officially dedicated.

To do all that would mean I am writing more as a historian than as a pastor. Imagine if the starting point for this conversation is not the calendar, but rather a profession of faith. Imagine if we start by saying, "God is the Alpha and the Omega, the Lord of all times and seasons." This would give us quite a different perspective on the May holidays.

One example: God has known us from the first time we lay in our mothers' arms and throughout all our days of nurture. Through God, we have been blessed with loving adults who provided for us long before we could provide for ourselves. In a challenging world, where at times parenting is difficult and resources are scarce, God remains God--bringing many mothers into our lives, comforting us in times of trial and rejoicing with us in times of celebration, beside us like a loving parent all the days of our lives.

Another example: God is the Lord of all nations, who has come to us as Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace. Christ showed us the full expression of sacrificial love by His death on the cross for us and all humankind. We honor those whose sacrificial deaths in times of war served causes of freedom, democracy and justice greater than any individual’s own story. Yet we work for a day when all war ceases and no one's life story includes memories of violence and sacrificial suffering.

A last example: Through God's Holy Spirit, the church becomes the body of Christ in the world. Since bodies are physically located, we erect physical structures where we can worship, teach, feed, and nurture bodies and souls. But every edifice, even the most magnificent, finds its sole glory in the gospel of Christ. Remembering the commitment of past generations inspires us to continue the ministry they began, even as we continually ask what Christ would have us do today and tomorrow.

Consider the calendars and celebrations of your own life in this same way--not as dates to be commemorated but times to reflect on the God who is active in all places, nations, and relationships. As you awaken each day in May, begin by affirming "This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it." Let each day be a Christmas day (Immanuel: God-with-us), an Easter day (He who was dead is now alive), and a Pentecost day (The Spirit sends us out in a hurting world). Mostly, let each day be celebrated as a gift from God, who is the Alpha and Omega, the first and the last, our hope and our salvation.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, April 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Easter Sunday is the highpoint of the church year and of our Christian faith, for it is when we remember the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The language associated with Easter has been built around the theme of hope ever since the days of the first disciples and the apostle Paul. For example, Paul wrote to the church in Corinth and said, "We rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead (and who) will continue to rescue us; on him we have set our hope" (2 Corinthians 1:9-10). And in a letter of the early church it says, "God has given us a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading" (I Peter 1:3-4).

For this message to be truly good news, it is important that the word "hope" not simply be tossed around as a pleasant thing we like to hear but which has no concrete meaning in our daily lives. Hope is not wishful thinking, as when a child hopes for a pony as a birthday present. Hope is not superficial and piein- the-sky, as when we hope serendipitously to find the place we’re looking for while driving without a map, or blithely hope that all forms of violence and pain will magically disappear from the world overnight. Hope is grittier than that, grounded in the dirt of earth even as it extends upward to the heaven’s heights.

Earlier this year, I read an article on a difficult subject, namely, the mental and emotional profiles of people who choose to be suicide-bombers. In those cases in which a bomb malfunctioned and the person was not killed, researchers have had the opportunity to learn more about what motivates people to accept the role of being a suicide bomber. What I found interesting was that anxiety about death itself played a significant role in moving people to agree to kill themselves as a suicide bomber. In effect, there was this paradox that the very fear of death, the fear of leaving no legacy or feeling their life was without meaning, was a key factor in motivating someone to choose violent death by their own hand. It was built around a twisted hope that killing themselves and others would somehow give meaning to that person’s life exactly at the point of their own death.

This is the antithesis of Easter hope. While Easter hope does not shy away from acknowledging the hardness of life, it never seeks to make life harder or increase suffering here on earth. We too may have anxiety about the meaning of our life, but the answer from Christ is that the gift of grace, the guidance of God’s spirit, and the redemptive power of love give us the courage to overcome every anxiety. Added to this is the assurance that Jesus' resurrection from the dead was done precisely to show us that nothing in life or death can separate us from the love of God that is for us and all people.

That is why "Easter people" find meaning in acts of compassion and showing love for others, not in acts of alienation, violence, and fear. That is why we are people of a hope that moves beyond life and death to a greater power, rather than ones who diminish life by violent death for the sake of a misguided power. As Dr. Martin Luther King said, "We must accept finite disappointment, but we must never lose infinite hope." In remembering that Christ is alive and has given to us new life that brings meaning and purpose to our daily work and play, may we remember to pray for all who are captive to ideologies and fears that would convince them to choose death and darkness instead. "Faith, hope, and love, these three abide..."

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, March 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe recently published a new book of essays. Achebe is internationally known for his classic 1958 novel “Things Fall Apart.”” It is the story of Okonkwo, a wrestler and husband living in a Nigerian village and trying to make sense of his changing world shaped by Igbo culture, British colonialism, and Christian missionaries. The title of his novel comes from a poem by W.B. Yeats, which contains the famous lines: “Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”

It is a compelling image, this idea that things are changing and risk collapsing upon themselves when the “center cannot hold.” We are living in incredible times, in which change happens dramatically and exponentially. Growth in areas of technology and communication are unfolding around us with dizzying speed. I recently saw a short video by Sony, which pointed out that it took 38 years for radio to reach 50 million listeners and 13 years for television to reach 50 million viewers. But the same threshold of 50 million users was reached by the Internet in only four years, by the iPod in three years, and by Facebook in just two years. It also suggested that the top ten in-demand jobs today did not even exist in 2004, so that students today are actually being trained for work that will use technology not even invented yet. It boggles the mind!

Given both the speed and nature of change today, it is realistic to wonder whether the “center” can hold things together. I would define the “center” as the core values, ethics, and faith perspectives that unite humankind. We believe in God who is Lord of all times, and who commands us to love the Lord and love our neighbor as ourselves. We believe that a commitment to sacrificial love, coupled with the gift of God’s grace, are the two things that give shape to our lives and hope for the future. This wonderful truth was fully embodied in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. In our lives as Christians, it is this “center” that holds things together.

Yet, are the changing times weakening our grasp of the “center”? Are we more influenced by the latest technology than guided by a God who never gets outdated? In Achebe’s new book, he makes this astute observation: “Without doubt, the times in which we live influence our behavior, but the best or merely the better among us ... are never held hostage by their times.”

That is the sentiment of Lent, the church season we are now celebrating. Lent is a time to re-focus on the “center” of things in a world spinning and changing at ever-increasing speeds. Lent is a time to see all that is around us through the lens of Christ’s story. Lent is a time to remember that the best among us are never held hostage by their times. That last statement is for you and me. For in Christ, we are “the best or merely the better among us,” not by our own efforts, but thanks to the indwelling grace of God. If it seems that anarchy is loosed upon the world, don’t forget that God’s spirit also is loose to make sure that God’s will, will be done. The center holds! Trust that, with God, all things are possible!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, February 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

This month we enter once more into the season of Lent. It is an important time—a chance to stop and reflect on both the fragility and preciousness of life. Officially it is the time when we remember how the story of Jesus Christ includes a harsh crucifixion and burial in a borrowed tomb. Yet it also is the time when we reflect on our own mortality, how we are born into this world and one day will leave it again. In considering the brevity of life, we remind ourselves not to take its daily miracles and opportunities for granted.

As we take stock of our life during the season of Lent, there are big questions we might be brave enough to ask ourselves: In the end, is it all worth it? Does my brief existence make any difference in the grand scheme of things? What exactly is the meaning of life? Those are important questions; however, they’re also questions we cannot answer ourselves. If you sat alone on the top of a snowcapped mountain pondering those deep questions, you would not come up with any satisfying answers for two reasons.

First, we do not fully exist in isolation from others. Sure, we can do things on our own and take pleasure in solitary walks and lifestyles, but we were not created to be autonomous, isolated creatures. We have been made for relationships—for friendship and conversation, for community and intimacy, for shared experiences and social interaction. We can see an image of ourselves in a mirror, but we can only truly see “ourselves” when we are reflected back from another person’s pair of eyes. If you want to know whether “it’s all worth it” and what your place is “in the grand scheme of things,” talk it over with someone else. In that shared conversation (and others like it) you will have the best chance of coming up with an answer that rings true deep inside you.

Second, we (human beings) are not the only players in the game of life. At the very least, we are surrounded by a vibrant ecosystem of plants, animals, microscopic life forms and natural elements, all of which have to be included in our “meaning of life” calculations. Over/above/through it all, there is God, the creator of life. The story of God-in-Christ, that is at the heart of Lent, offers the best framework for grappling with the big questions of life.

When the famed Catholic priest and author Henri Nouwen grieved over the death of his mother, he wrote a very personal letter to his own father (which has since been published under the title Letter of Consolation). It well summarizes the hope and comfort inherent in the season of Lent, both in the honest reflection on the death of Christ and the comforting promise of Easter resurrection. I’ll close with Nouwen’s words:

“If the God who revealed life to us, and whose only desire is to bring us to life, loved us so much that [God] wanted to experience with us the total absurdity of death, then—yes, there must be hope. There must be something more than death. There must be a promise that is not fulfilled in our short existence in this world. Leaving behind the ones you love, the flowers and the trees, the mountains and the oceans, the beauty of art and music, and all the exuberant gifts of life cannot be just the destruction and cruel end of all things. Indeed we have to wait for the third day.”

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, January 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

It’s not by accident that common symbols for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are “Father Time” depicted as an old, white-bearded man and as a fresh-faced, diaper-clad infant. We commemorate the first day of the first month by looking back on times past and looking ahead to times to come—“Auld Lang Syne” and New Year’s resolutions.

This month we also move into a new decade, as calendars flip to reveal 2010. The biggest, initial challenge we’ll face is what to call this new year: “two thousand and ten” or “twenty-ten.” I vote for the latter because it’s shorter and in line with what we have been saying for the bulk of the entire previous century (“nineteen eighty-four” instead of “one thousand, nine hundred and eighty-four”).

The next challenge will be what to call the past decade—the years 2000–2009. Various pundits and bloggers have offered suggestions. If we want to put an adjective with the decade, like we did for the “Roaring Twenties,” I suggest we refer to the previous decade as the “Lost Aughts” (aught = “zero” for much of the English-speaking world). Numerically the previous decade was defined by the number “two” followed by two zeros, or “aughts.” However, politically and economically, the previous ten years have been defined by fruitless wanderings and misdirection. Global terrorism, culminating in the attacks of 9/11/2001 set the tone for this decade. The American response to 9/11 through wars in Iraq and Afghanistan went on to determine much of the history for the past decade. The resulting expense of money, resources and, most importantly, human lives has affected literally millions of people the world over.

In retrospect, we honor the valor and dedication of those who’ve served their countries overseas (U.S. and coalition forces), and we weep for the destruction so many people have personally endured this past decade. Yet, it is hard to claim that we have significantly improved our lot in life, or that of our brothers and sisters in the world, during the past ten years. Yes, progress has been made in medical research, in AIDS prevention, and in raising awareness on issues like global warning, nuclear proliferation, and environmentalism. Yes, a space station is being constructed by a coalition of nations that were once enemies, and a deeper sense of the interconnection of all countries was strengthened through times of adversity (recent financial meltdown) and celebration (Olympics games).

In hindsight, have we taken advantage of the opportunities that were before us in the “Lost Aughts” so that the decade beginning in 2010 is marked by greater peace, health, faith, and justice being present in the world? I do not wish to encourage a spirit of pessimism, but “to whom much is given, even more will be demanded” (Luke 12:48). Must we always compromise our values and faith convictions so that only partial political solutions are found, partial peace marks our international relations, and partial economic justice is meted out to the fortunate few?

I hope we will do better in the decade to come. “For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7). May this coming year and fresh decade mark a time of renewed commitment to the ideals of our faith, embodied in the prophetic voice and resurrection power of Jesus Christ, the One who tirelessly works for true peace, justice and mercy for all God’s children.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, December 2009

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Who wrote one of the most widely read Christian books in the first half of the twentieth century? Some suggest the answer is Evelyn Underhill, who wrote a book entitled “Mysticism.” Evelyn Underhill (1875–1941) lived in England, and studied history and botany in school. In 1907, she converted to Christianity, and four years later completed her book on mysticism. Within a few years, she was a widely sought-out lecturer and teacher, especially on matters related to the spiritual life. She used to say, “It is those who have a deep and real inner life who are best able to deal with the irritating details of outer life.”

Underhill is remembered as a woman with a lively personality and a caring concern for others. She would spend her mornings writing and then use her afternoons to visit the poor and offer spiritual direction. She was fond of quoting St. Teresa of Avila, who had said “to give Our Lord a perfect service Martha and Mary must combine.” (Read Luke 10:38-42) One scholar noted that she had a love of souls coupled with the determination to help them to grow at God’s pace and not at their own or her own--a trait that won her the love and trust of all who went to her for guidance.

I mention Evelyn Underhill because I recently ran across a charming quote of hers. In her volume of published letters, she wrote to a friend these words: “I do hope your Christmas has had a little touch of Eternity in among the rush and pitter patter and all. It always seems such a mixture of this world and the next--but that after all is the idea!” As I think about the Advent and Christmas seasons now upon us, I know Ms. Underhill is exactly right. This time of year is meant to be a mixture of “this world and the next.”

The language of Advent is saturated with images of “incarnation”: God becoming flesh in the infant Christ child; people sharing gifts in the spirit of the season; Christmas as a time of good deeds done for others. But what exactly is being “incarnated”? In a real way, it is something more than a moral idea to be nice to others or a vague spirit of goodwill that prompts acts of kindness. It is what Underhill has said it is--a mixture of this world and the next; a little touch of Eternity in the here and now.

We should not dismiss this idea as mere poetic language. The nature of an incarnate God means that God’s eternal realm also is mixed up in this temporal realm. It means that we can glimpse eternity even though we live in the present age. Skeptical psychologists may tell us that we do good deeds for Christmas just because it makes us feel good. Critical biologists may argue that altruistic behavior is simply another desirable trait in the evolutionary equation of “survival of the fittest.” But Christian faith insists that just as God dwelt in Christ, the eternal is incarnate in us through God’s loving, redeeming grace.

We are “mixed up” people--flesh and spirit, a little lower than angels, children of God. Pay close attention to what you see and feel and experience this Advent and Christmas season. Eternity has never been closer at hand!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, November 2009

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

I love language and discovering the origins of peculiar words and phrases. Thinking about words reminds me of several things, such as Reader’s Digest quizzes, or the maddening, multiple-choice vocabulary questions on standardized tests. I asked myself which are my favorite words, and among the ones that came to mind were “hitherto” (which makes the speaker sound like someone on Masterpiece Theatre) and “pusillanimous” (which is delightful to stumble across in literature, but almost impossible to work into a conversation unless you’re Spiro Agnew.)

One word that always makes me smile is quotidian. According to the venerable Oxford English Dictionary, its first recorded usage dates back to 1340. It’s a Latin word meaning “things occurring on a daily basis” (quotus: things which occur; dies: day). It’s commonly used in medical language, referring to symptoms that occur on a regular basis. Despite its exotic appearance, it’s the basis for the French word daily, as in a “quotidien newspaper.”

I had, perhaps wrongly, assumed that quotidian was synonymous with the word mundane, since things that happen day after day are likely to be less interesting details of our life story. But the aspects of our faith that our quotidian are actually some of the most crucial parts of what we believe; so I fear I have been mis-characterizing this word all these years.

Reflect for a moment on the quotidian elements of your faith. It’s not uncommon to hear someone say, “Thank you, God, for waking me up this morning.” Remembering the daily gift of life is a key part of faith. Saying grace over a meal may seem like a mundane daily ritual, yet it serves as a time to remember that we have blessings of food that so many others lack (and hopefully to pray that God and others will provide for them). Later this month, we’ll celebrate the holiday of Thanksgiving, which comes around each year with (what feels like) quotidian frequency. It’s also an opportunity to recall how God’s providential care is showered upon us daily.

November also is our month to emphasis Christian stewardship. In practical terms, this is more of a weekly, monthly, or annual event; but in regards to faith, it’s definitely a quotidian part of our life. Almost every day, we handle money and incur obligations that’re reflected in monetary amounts (e.g., rent, bills, etc.). What do your daily finances look like, and where is the presence of God reflected both in the money you earn and the money you spend? There are things on which we spend money that are purely for momentary pleasure, and things that are for our long-term health and security. The time and treasure we devote to God should not be calculated solely at the end of the day from whatever resources are leftover. Quotidian stewardship starts each day with God and consciously sets apart our “first fruits” and best resources for the Lord. The amount is secondary; the spirit of gratitude and generosity are what’s most important.

Think of your own favorite words and reflect on them in light of your ongoing faith in God revealed in Jesus Christ. Who knows, maybe this can be a daily, quotidian part of your Christian identity during this month’s Stewardship season!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, October 2009

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

"You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves."
(Taken from Robert Frost's
"On Looking Up By Chance at the Constellations")

No one denies that much of our life is spent focused on our own life. The entire universe swirls around us, and yet we exist each day as if we are the center of the universe. We do this because, to some extent, we are the center of the universe. All the information we receive about the world around us comes to us through our sensory organs and personal consciousness. We are like the prism through which the white light of the universe is refracted and then split into a rainbow of colors, which we name "nature," "family," "science," and "God."

This activity can be exhausting. We are constantly processing information about the world around us (Are we safe? Is that person a friend or foe? What will tomorrow bring?), even as we know that: 1) We are aware of only a fraction of the activity around us; 2) We can never predict what tomorrow holds. It can fill us with anxiety and a sense of hopelessness about our human condition.

"The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch...
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane."

Faith is about perspective—both seeing things in perspective and keeping things in perspective. If we are the center of the universe, then our existential angst is justified, for we can never be equal to the task of understanding all that is and all that will be, given our limited human capabilities. But when we look at the heavens, when we consider the moon and the stars above (cf. Psalm 8), we are presented with a different perspective—of a wonder, order, and immensity that assures us there must be some other center of the universe than our meager body and soul. The fact that, as Frost says, nothing much happens up there, where planets travel along their heavenly parabolas and galaxies continue their steady race toward the outer boundaries of the universe, is actually a source of comfort for all of us wrapped up in our busy, earthbound existence.

Frost's contemplation of the constellations ends with this poignant line: "That calm seems certainly safe to last tonight." At the center of the universe is a calm, a calm that has been revealed to be consistent, patient, intentional, and loving. Even more miraculous, this calm is personal in that it has been personified in Jesus Christ, the eternal Wisdom and Heart made flesh. So while the Hubble telescope reminds us of quasars in the heavens, and the daily paper reminds us of upheavals here on Earth, there is a deeper calm that is neither disrupted or disturbed by the goings-on of the universe. "That calm seems certainly safe to last tonight." Thanks be to God.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Who taught you how to drive a car? My father first put me behind the wheel of a pickup truck and had me drive around a field while he put bales of hay in the back. My brother taught me how to drive a manual transmission on an inclined driveway and revealed the tricky nuances of a clutch. But my main instructor was Mr. Gilman, the high school Drivers Ed teacher.

Mr. Gilman was an imposing figure who took a bit too much pleasure in showing us those warning films about what can happen to distracted drivers. While I was seated behind the wheel with Mr. Gilman in the passenger seat, he would insist that I keep my eyes moving and bark out: "Be aware of what's ahead of you and beside you. Check your mirrors. Check your gauges. Check your blind spots." It seemed like there was too much information to take in, process, and remember. In time, it becomes second nature to keep our eyes moving and stay aware of what's happening around us. I'm grateful for the lessons hammered into my head by my demanding teacher.

This month, our church activities start up again in earnest. On Rally Day, we return to three services each Sunday morning, with Christian Education for all ages, and an array of programs and committee tasks for the whole church family. It can feel a bit like driving a car while merging onto a busy highway, balancing our commitment to church worship with obligations at work and home. So in the spirit of Mr. Gilman, I encourage you to "keep your eyes moving" and be aware of what's happening around you as you continue your own journey of Christian faith.

For example, faith involves "checking the rearview mirror." Pause occasionally to reflect on the path you've traveled so far in your life. Remember the people who've been important to you, what they've taught you, and what advice they would've given you today. Faith also involves "checking your side mirrors." See the people beside you on the road of life and seek to travel peacefully with others, knowing that many are in pain or anxious or lonely in their own private lives.

"Check your blind spots." Hopefully there are honest friends and family members who remind us of those things about ourselves we cannot see on our own. Know that no one is perfect and the thing we find most objectionable in others is often present in our own behavior. "Say a prayer when you get behind the wheel," literally and figuratively. Quiet yourself before you drive, trusting that God is with you and is more important than any errand you're so anxious to complete.

Lastly, "enjoy the view through the windshield." May your life offer you wide vistas and attractive horizons, so that your days are infused with hope. Remember the opening verse of Psalm 121: "I lift up my eyes to the hills–from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." We do not travel alone; neither need we travel aimlessly. May the presence of God's abiding love and the gifts of grace, patience, and good humor mark your "road trips" this day and always.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Hopefully during this month, you'll be able to connect with family and friends. This might be part of your vacation plans or simply mailing a postcard. For the electronically-inclined, these acts of "connectivity" also may include e-mail, Skype (video calls), Facebook, Twitter,
and other outlets.

The question of connectedness is a growing spiritual issue. I ask you to consider the following pluses and minuses.

Plus: Technology can link us with family and friends over vast distances, allowing us to exchange thoughts, photos, and updates more
frequently than an annual letter.

Minus: Technology creates distance between people, through the gap between those who use it and those who choose not to (or don't have the resources), and in the loss of personal contact (substituting text for face-to-face conversations).

Plus: Our experience of the world is much richer through e-mails, videosharing, and Google connecting us with people and places across the globe.

Minus: Our understanding of the world is diminished because we encounter other cultures in less depth (sound-bite news stories) and through more haphazard (at times, unreliable) information sources.

Plus: Our spiritual lives are strengthened by the Internet when it allows us to keep in touch with a range of people, facilitate our prayer concerns being heard quickly by friends, and making available a variety of online devotional and church material right at our fingertips.

Minus: Our spiritual lives are diminished by the Internet with its demand of staying electronically connected 24/7, its blurring of "office hours" and "offhours," and the "busyness" that undermines true Sabbath rest for the soul.

Hear Paul's words of encouragement: "In Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away. Everything has become new! All this is from God, who is reconciled with us through Christ and has given us the ministry of reconciliation" (2 Corinthians 5:17). Remember this: Connectivity with Christ should precede all other connections. Newness of life is first spiritual, and then technological. To walk in nature, to breathe deeply, to hug a friend is a form of prayer. So this month, be people of prayer in a world of both natural and
technological wonders.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Consider these two short biographies:
1: Born in 1830, she was the daughter of a strict Calvinist father. Had a shy disposition and frail health, but was a talented writer, musician and gardener. Apart from one trip to Washington, D.C. and Philadelphia, she did not travel much beyond her home in Amherst, Mass. By her late 20s, she lived in almost complete seclusion, only speaking to most visitors from behind slightly-open doors. Less than a dozen of her poems were published during her lifetime. Died of kidney disease in 1886, at the age of 55.

2: Born in 1874 and died in 1963, at the age of 88. One marriage, six children. Fairly poor when young. Involved in farming and, later, teaching jobs in various schools. Not much traveling until late in his life; he mostly resided in New England. Said Joseph Brodsky: "If biography accounts for poetry, this one should have resulted in none."

What qualifies as a good life? We often put a lot of emphasis on the height, breadth, and length of a person's life. We list off their accomplishments in résumés and obituary notices, telling of the heights they conquered through perseverance and hard work. We describe the far-reaching influences of people through noting the breadth of lives they touched in a wide range of settings. We celebrate the longevity of their lives, especially when the length exceeds 70 or 80 years. Those are all admirable traits and are well worth noting. However, a fourth dimension is lacking in the above summary. A good life is usually one marked by an exceptional depth. Depth in life may be hard to measure, but, like good art, you know it when you encounter it. It involves a grounded spirit and a trustworthy character. It involves a willingness to commit for the long haul, to see things through to the end. It's similar to a swimming hole in which it's safe to dive in deeply, a beloved spot in which waves and turbulence are rarely present. It's a personal interior, rich in treasures and wisdom from whose storehouse others benefit by receiving advice, counsel, and inspiration.

Depth can be found in people who never travel very far in their lives, who never gain widespread fame or ascend to peaks of popularity in the world's eyes. It's primarily a spiritual quality. It's most commonly found in people at peace with themselves and with others, people active in prayer and quick to say "Thank You," and people committed to leaving the world a bit better for their having walked upon this earth for a brief span of time. To aspire to lead a life of depth is a holy and a precious thing.

By the way, the biographies summarized above are of the American poets Emily Dickinson and Robert Frost. After her death, a trove of over 1,700 poems was found in Dickinson's trunks, securing her place as a preeminent American poet. Frost, the only poet to win four Pulitzer Prizes, harvested from his quiet New England life a rich array of verse that still inspires and touches lives today. Lives of depth, indeed.

"Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better."
- Birches, by Robert Frost
"Who has not found the heaven below will fail of it above."
- Emily Dickinson
"God's residence is next to mine, His furniture is love."
- Emily Dickinson

Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was also in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 2:4,5)

If we're to take all of these poems seriously, then let us seek to lead lives of depth.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

How should we pray to God? Should we pray humbly (Lord, if it's not too much, I just want to ask... ) or passionately (Great God, with all my heart please give me wisdom to do what is right and strength to avoid what is wrong... .)? Should we use formal language (Almighty and most merciful Father, from whom cometh every good and perfect gift... ), making sure we are as comprehensive as possible (Having offered words of praise and confession, I shall now present my prayers of intercession and supplication... )? Or, the $100 question, is it possible to pray "wrong?"

At its heart, prayer is a conversation that includes silence, trust, and hope. It's not so much an act of talking to God as it's an opening up of ourselves to God, not a public speaking recitation. Think of it more like entering a room where God is seated, or taking a walk beside Christ, or breathing in a deep, cleansing breath that includes the Holy Spirit. Think of it as a posture out of which words, thoughts, and concerns are humbly given voice.

Praying to God also involves silence, as we reflect on our words and create a space in which God can respond—through insights; inner peace; and yes, words we hear as we continue on through our day. Praying involves trust—the deep sense that we're not alone and that the One who accompanies us truly wants what is best for us. The formula is this: Sincere prayer plus a spirit of trust always adds up to an attitude of persistent hope.

I don't know if you can ever pray "wrong." I know I've prayed for the wrong reasons; and at times I've prayed out of feelings of distraction, confusion, or obligation. There've even been prayers offered out of panic, usually involving a maliciously uncooperative home computer! However, God does not wait to listen to us until we can pray "right." God is near, knows our needs before we ask, and is ever anxious to respond.

Prayer is also a discipline. So I wouldn't worry that your prayer is being done poorly; rather find regular times to practice the art of praying and you'll see how soon concerns about doing it "wrong" are invariably misplaced.

I'll close with some quotes from prayers composed by animals (thanks to the creativity of poet Carmen Bernos de Gasztold). I appreciate their honesty and their simple wisdom. May they help enrich your own prayer life.

"A little patience, O God, I am coming."—Prayer of the Tortoise

"Lord, I who see the world from above find it hard to get used to its pettiness." – Prayer of the Giraffe

"Dear God, give me time. People are always so driven!"—Prayer of the Ox

"Lord, you try for a little while to walk on one foot carrying Your whole heaven on Your back."—Prayer of the Snail

"Oh! What a worry! All these chicks to cherish and protect—can't shut an eye even for a moment!"—Prayer of the Mother Hen

"Lord! Where was I? Oh yes! This flower, this sun, thank You! Your world is beautiful!... Where was I? Oh yes! Lord, I had something to tell You: Amen." —Prayer of the Butterfly

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

If you'll pardon the pun, I'll begin with a grim tale from the Brothers' Grimm. Once upon a time, a man and his wife were sitting on their porch with a roast chicken before them that they were about to eat. Then the man saw his old father coming along, so he quickly hid the chicken in the house, for he begrudged him any of it. The old man came, had a drink, and went away. Now the son was about to put the roast chicken back on the table, but when he reached for it, it had turned into a big toad that jumped in his face and stayed there and wouldn't go away. If anybody tried to disturb it, it would give them a poisonous look, as if about to jump in their faces, so that no one dared touch it. The ungrateful son had to feed the toad every day, otherwise it chewed on his face. Thus, the son went ceaselessly hither and yon about in the world. (Story retold in "The Gift" by Lewis Hyde.)

The folk tale was told as a way to illustrate how gifts are meant to remain in motion. We receive from the generosity of others and are blessed by passing on to others out of a similar, generous spirit. But by hoarding goods, by refusing to share the bounty we have received, it's as if "toads" of greed and dumb-lust have made a home in our midst.

Many cultures have quite elaborate rituals associated with gift-giving. It can range from Kula gifts of shells and necklaces passed around between chieftains in Western Pacific islands to the gifts presented by Presidents and Prime Ministers when they visit other heads of state. It usually extends beyond reciprocal giving, quid pro quo, in which only two people benefit from the exchange. Ideally it's a wide circle in which a gift (or things shared in a spirit of generous gift-giving) move through many hands and multiple recipients.

A stronger version of this idea comes from the American Indians of the North American coast, who celebrates "potlatches." They are feasts lasting several days given by a member of the tribe for the benefit of the whole tribe. The Haida Indians call their potlatches a ceremony for "killing wealth," as items of value are freely given away, burnt, and "consumed," meaning that they move from one hand to another with no assurance of getting anything in return.

In a consumer society built upon possession and accumulating wealth, there's much we can learn from these descriptions of "gift-giving" cultures. As a faith society, there are many ways to build upon these ideas. There's a "stewardship lesson" in that our lives are meant to be spent as "cheerful givers" and that involves both the actual act of generous sharing as well as the spiritual practice of trusting God to provide for our needs.

There's also a "Pentecost lesson" in all this. For on that church "birthing-day" long ago, the people received something from God that could not be hoarded or possessed. It had to be shared. It literally sent them out into the streets, despite the risks involved in telling the gospel of Christ to a community that only recently had put Jesus to death. It moved them to talk and share and give away all they had held dear (not just possessions, but their very safety and social standing) for the sake of this transformative, generous gospel of Christ.

See how, by God's grace, you can change the dominant metaphor of your life from one of calculating possessions to generous gift-giving. Discover, with the Spirit's prodding, how your spheres of influence, friendship and joy will expand in ever-widening circles of grace.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

The Easter message is clear and unequivocal. Those who saw the empty tomb and were witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus, were told to go and tell others.

Matthew 28:10 – "Do not be afraid; go and tell [the others] to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

Mark 16:7 – "Go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee."

Luke 24:9 – "They remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest."

John 20:17 – "Go and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'"

Our Easter worship services are modern re-enactments of that first resurrection commissioning. We announce, "Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed!" We re-tell the story and sing triumphant hymns. We share communion, allowing God's Spirit to feed us and send us out to proclaim the gospel in the world. It's a day of joy, a day of hope, a day of both tradition and newness of life.

Easter Sunday is a perfect time to invite people to join us—people feeling depressed or troubled, those seeking hope and the assurance of God's victory over injustice, suffering and death. Yet Easter is often a "family reunion" service, mostly attended by people who're already part of the church, while Christmas Eve is a service in which it's easier to invite non-members and friends. Why is that?

Christmas offers comforting images that have been secularized by society. It's a story about a family and the birth of a child, all wrapped up with carols and candlelight designed to evoke memories from our own childhood. The Easter story has largely resisted secularization. Despite the commercial symbols of Easter bunnies and colored eggs, the Easter story speaks about life and death, about injustice and triumph over evil. The baby born in the manger is now a resurrected Savior, who emerges from the tombs and looks each of us in the eyes as if to say, "The world's order has been changed forever. Will you walk with me now as people of the Easter good news?"

The uniqueness of Jesus' resurrection does not mean that it's a story only to be told among ourselves. Dr. Cynthia Campbell stressed in her book "A Multitude of Blessings," the fullness of Christian faith affirms both the universal extent of God's love and the particular confession that it is through Jesus Christ this love is fully known and experienced. The uniqueness of the Easter story makes the Christian faith compelling and life-renewing. God is at work in people and places beyond our imagining with "a wideness in God's mercy, like the wideness of the sea."

For people wounded or disappointed by other churches, inviting them to join you for Easter can begin a healing conversation in their lives. For people who are uncomfortable imagining themselves in a church pew on Sundays, sharing in a story that is too big for mere words, yet too persistent to be easily dismissed, can prompt an honest reflection about the nature of God in our world. For people of other faiths or of no faith, words of conviction spoken about a love stronger than death does not diminish how God is active in other places, other traditions, and in other stories. It's by sharing what we believe with integrity and humility that we enter into conversations that allow us to hear others' stories.

There is too much hope, joy and new life contained in the Easter message for it to be limited to "members only" gatherings. Throw wide the doors! Extend forth the invitation! Resurrection begins now, let all the world rejoice!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

There's something special on the second floor of the library at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. I never knew it was there, because it is tucked away against a back wall in a room past the upstairs stacks. It's a common object of furniture, so it blends into the décor you'd expect to see in a public building. However, it's quite uncommon.

Karl Barth was a pastor and theologian born in Switzerland in 1886. He was active as a teacher when the Nazi party rose to prominence. In 1934,he met with other pastors and drafted a document called the Barmen Declaration, which is part of our Presbyterian "Book of Confessions." He rejected the false doctrines "the church could recognize as a source of its proclamation other events, powers, or historic figures as God's revelation apart from the one Word of God" and the idea that "there could be areas of our life in which we belong not to Jesus Christ but to other lords."

One day in 1935, the rector of the University of Bonn decreed that each lecture would end with the German salute. Barth refused to comply with this and said, "I have begun my lecture for the past two and a half years with a brief devotion consisting of the reading of two Bible verses and the singing of a hymn by all present. The introduction of the Hitler salute in this context would be out of place." This cost Barth his position and put his own life at risk.

Barth survived the war and went on to be one of the most prominent Christian thinkers of the 20th century. He wrote 13 volumes of Church Dogmatics, commenting on almost every aspect of our faith in a magnum opus that was only cut short by his death, in 1968. He wrote over six million words about the Christian faith, often seated at a simple wooden desk - a desk that now resides in the second floor of the library at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary.

Barth offered many memorable quotes during his life. "Jesus does not give recipes that show the way to God as other teachers of religion do. He is Himself the way," or, "To clasp hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world." He is best known for his response when a student asked him to sum up the central message of his multi-volume theological work in only afew words. Barth thought for a moment, smiled and simply said, "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so."

Karl Barth's desk sits roped off in a corner of the seminary library. It's a reminder of his scholarly, faithful work that has encouraged innumerable lives over the years. What item might represent your legacy? What might be roped off in a quiet place of honor to commemorate your life? Perhaps this is a sobering thought, but it is one worthy of times of Lenten reflection. It may be a photograph of you with someone else, or a framed quotation of words of faithful encouragement you offered in times of need. It might be a desk or a work of art, or something that best expresses how your spirit and God's spirit combined to make the world a better place for a moment in history. What do you think it is?

Randy Bush

February 2009

 

January 2009