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Pastoral Message, March 2012

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Science fiction writer William Gibson is credited with making the following comment: "The future is already here. It's just not evenly distributed yet." I find this to be a fascinating remark, which can be read as a strong word of hope for all people of faith.

Evidence that the future is here can be seen in the incredible advances in technology that have re-shaped much of world in just the past decade. Given how prevalent "smartphones" now are, how ubiquitous the practice of texting one another now is, and how casually we buy something through the Internet or download a book onto our electronic devices, the future has become commonplace in our present lives. Yet such "smart" technology is not uniformly available in our country, much less around the world. Nor are the benefits from it evenly and fairly distributed to all people.

Within the Presbyterian Church, there is much talk about our new openness to ordaining church leaders and ministers regardless of marital status or sexual orientation. This long-awaited "future" position of inclusivity toward gays and lesbians is finally here. Yet there are still many churches who reject that God's call is so generously distributed, and who preach that God's love does not extend to people in same-gender relationships. Clearly more work remains to be done to ensure that the biblical commitment to full inclusion is more evenly distributed in our own denomination.

In our own congregation, the last several New Member classes have been predominantly attended by young adults in their 20's and 30's. They speak about wanting to find a church home that is diverse in membership, committed to mutual prayer and study, and active in social witness in the community. One person in the recent class was amazed that more of Pittsburgh had not yet found their way inside our doors, given the combination of the above qualities present at ELPC. The young adult presence in all our worship services reflects the "future" the Presbyterian Church sorely needs. By living our faith openly through our outreach to people of all ages and our connections with other churches and places of worship, we are doing our part to make sure this future is more evenly distributed.

Christ has said, "The kingdom of God is in your midst." The good news of Christ's healing, justice-seeking, redeeming message is at the heart of what we remember during the season of Lent. When that message is combined with the hope captured in the "resurrection joy" of Easter, then the gospel aspect of Gibson's quote becomes quite clear. The future promise of God's realm is in our midst, but it needs to be more evenly distributed. May we join with God's Spirit in distributing this good news in the days and weeks to come.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, February 2012

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

In grammar, an ellipsis is the intentional omission of a word or sentence, done either for emphasis or because the repetition of the word(s) would be redundant. A witty example of this can be found in an apocryphal story about a reporter who needed to know the age of the movie star Cary Grant. So he sent him the following brief telegraph: "How old Cary Grant?" To which the actor replied, "Old Cary Grant fine. How you?" The omitted verb may have saved the reporter a nickel, but the snappy comeback is priceless.

Leaving out the verb in the question above is an example of an ellipsis. In writing, such omissions are marked by a series of three dots, like this ... Sometimes, though, an ellipsis is found at the end of a sentence, when the speaker's voice trails off and some final thoughts are left unspoken. The singer Judy Collins has written autobiographical books describing her career, her struggles with addiction, and family tragedies. At one point she was blunt in her remarks, saying "Each day I chose not to drink. And I chose not to take my own life." If I were in a room with her and heard her say that, I would want to hear more--for Judy to break the silence, the ellipsis, at the end of her statements. I'd ask her to finish the sentence: "Each day I chose not to drink and not take my own life because..."

In the ellipsis, in the space marked by three little dots, faith resides. It is there that people finish their sentences and say why they choose not to drink, why they work so hard every day, why they are hopeful for tomorrow. It is there that you and I say out loud to our children or our friends what are the spiritual foundations upon which we stand. These need not be dramatic statements. They may only be mini statements of faith: I do this, because I believe this world is the Lord's and we're here to take care of it. I do this, because I believe that love is stronger than hate, and Christ's Easter resurrection gives me hope for a brighter future. I do this, because I trust that God is in control, not me, and God's grace will hold me up when all else fails. I do this, because . . .

In many of our conversations, we are not bold enough to finish those sentences, to complete what the silence of the ellipsis is meant to leave unspoken. Which is why the church wisely moves from the Christmas season into Lent. These forty days prior to Easter are times for self-reflection; they are opportunities to ask "What do I truly value in this life? What is God's spirit urging me to do (or stop doing)? Where is hope seeking to be born in my own life?"

Is there an unfinished question waiting to be spoken in your life? Is there an ellipsis waiting to be fleshed out by words and deeds in one of your relationships? One place to start is the hymn that goes like this: Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me, mold me, fill me, use me. That is all that needs to be said, because . . .

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, January 2012

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

A visitor to the United States wrote the following words: “In America I saw the freest and most enlightened [people] placed in the happiest circumstances that the world affords; yet it seemed to me as if a cloud habitually hung upon their brow, and I thought them serious and almost sad, even in their pleasures ... It is strange to see with what feverish ardor the Americans pursue their own welfare, and to watch the vague dread that constantly torments them lest they should not have chosen the shortest path which may lead to it.” It is a fascinating critique of contemporary culture: the cloud hanging over us even in our times of pleasure, and the vague dread that we have not chosen the shortest, easiest path to our personal goals of happiness. It is an astute comment on life today, and even more intriguing in that it was written 170 years ago by Alexis de Tocqueville (Democracy in America, vol. 2; 1840).

The first month of the year is traditionally a time for self-reflection and goal-setting. (Also, because the weather is generally cold and miserable, there’s not much to distract us outdoors!) One feature of contemporary life is that the “restless temper” noted by de Tocqueville long ago is still alive and active in life today. We have a tendency to move from place to place, from city to city, sometimes from church to church. The recent period of high unemployment has made us less prone to “job hopping”; however, that has not fully stopped the restless impulses in our lifestyle and shopping habits. We buy; we discard; we buy again: cars, television sets, clothes, furniture, iPhones, Droids, you name it. We exist in what some have called a “market turnover culture,” searching for new things (new products, new relationships, new locations) as if that will bring us true happiness.

Sometimes the healthiest spiritual path to follow is not to move anywhere or do anything. After the initial burst of evangelistic fervor spread the gospel out from Jerusalem into the bustling towns and cities of the known world, a few centuries later the inclination was to found monasteries as quiet places of prayer and study for people of faith. From the fifth century into the middle ages, monks, nuns, and people of faith regularly stopped what they were doing to offer prayer at specific times of the day. This was to help remind themselves that God’s time takes precedence over human time, and seeking to follow Christ takes precedence over following the relentless demands of this world. Committing to be in a community (monastery, church, a marriage or relationship or family) involves a faithful determination to stick around, to “be still and know that God is God” (Psalm 46); to quiet the restlessness within us that we might find peace in the living, sustaining embrace of the Lord.

If we begin there, then the next step is usually easier. After spending time in silence, in prayer, in quieting the roar of the maddening crowds, we are able to discern where God is leading us. Our ELPC church leaders are actively seeking to do this as we consider ministry directions and options for the coming year. May you also walk this same path as you set your own goals and make decisions for the year unfolding before you.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, December 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

On March 4, 1861, the newly-elected Abraham Lincoln delivered his First Inaugural Address. It was a difficult time for the nation, as only two weeks prior, Jefferson Davis had been sworn in as President of the Confederate States of America. Lincoln sought counsel from his experienced Secretary of State, William Seward, on possible wording for the inaugural speech. Seward was prone to language of war and insistent on the righteousness of the northern cause, offering sentences about “patriot graves” and how we will be protected by “guardian angels.” Lincoln borrowed some of Seward’s poetry but changed the sentiment to focus more on the glory of the American “Union” as well as how both sides are to be guided by “the better angels” of their collective nature.

Advent and Christmas are church seasons in which we call upon the “better angels” of our shared humanity. The Advent time of preparation challenges us to look beyond the horizon of today’s joys and sorrows and consider how all of life is moving toward God’s promised time of completion, peace and justice. And the Christmas time of celebration reminds us that God has come to us in the Christ-child, an incarnation of love and goodness that confirms the promise that the Lord is with us every day and in every situation. Both seasons pull us up from places of despair and anxiety. Both are designed to inspire and lift our spirits. Both involve literal angels (the messengers to Mary and to the shepherds in the field) and “better angels,” as they tell us “tidings of great joy for all the people.”

Read now Lincoln’s final paragraph from his First Inaugural Address and then consider the closing verse from the Advent hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel”:

I am loathe to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

O come, Desire of nations, bind all peoples in one heart and mind. Bid envy, strife, and discord cease. Fill the whole world with heaven’s peace. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

To believe in “better angels” is the first step toward a life-transforming faith. To trust in “better angels” is the next step in a life-sustaining faith. And to tell with joy the story of the Advent and Christmas “better angels” is to join their sacred chorus and continue the work of the incarnate-crucified-risen Christ Jesus throughout all the days and seasons that lie ahead.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, November 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

November is a month dominated by the holiday of Thanksgiving. (In truth, I should concede that November is overrun by the encroachment of the holiday of Christmas, thanks to merchants anxious to get shoppers in the Yuletide mood. However, that’s the subject of a different essay.) The holiday of Thanksgiving is a call for a shift in focus. It reminds us to stop our regular activities long enough to sit down together, share a meal, and offer thanks for the bounties of this life. Whether the Thanksgiving feast is shared after church in the social hall or with friends and family on November 24, it is an opportunity to show gratitude to God and to one another for the blessings we daily receive. It is a time to keep things in perspective. No matter how many negatives there are in your life right now, there is still something positive for which you can give thanks.

When Thanksgiving is done well, it is a time for us to “think differently” about life. Let me offer an example. As we sit down to a Thanksgiving meal, we are mindful of those who are hungry at that very moment. We are reminded that we should be good stewards of God’s harvest, sharing with others in need, and refraining from wasting the food in our own households. Perhaps in our Thanksgiving prayer, we ask God’s intervention on behalf of those who are hungry, such as the people without food in Somalia. But the gospel would have us go one step farther and “think differently” about the whole issue of hunger in a world of plenty.

Thomas Keneally recently wrote a book called Three Famines that speaks bluntly about the horrors of international famine. Typically we have believed that famines are the result of “acts of God,” drought, storms, inhospitable weather conditions ruining crops before harvest. But Amartya Sen (Nobel-winning economist) has argued this poignant fact: “No famine has ever taken place in the history of the world in a functioning democracy.” A book review of Keneally’s work insists that famine is not about a failure to produce food, but historically has been caused by a failure to distribute food. Food is available, but those in power have refused to share or provide for those in need. And the current conditions in Somalia certainly bear out this troubling thesis.

Thinking differently around food and meals (especially big meals like Thanksgiving) means that we practice our faith whenever we shop in a grocery store and sit down for sustenance at the table. Every item we eat came from somewhere; do our choices in those items foster God’s realm or weaken God’s children? Are we eating justly or just eating?

Thinking differently around food reminds us to savor the incredible variety available to grace our dinner tables: the tang of Fall apples, the taste of yoghurt or fruit preserves or warm soup or dark chocolate. To slow down and chew, taste, and consider the wonder of food as we eat it is to think differently.

We’ll talk more about this at our church. But for this month, remember to notice what you eat. Consider how it came to you (and perhaps how it is being withheld from others). Pray that our just and loving God will work with us, through us, and in spite of us to allow “daily bread” to grace everyone’s table. And always, give thanks.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, October 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Few words are as beloved in church vocabulary as the word “mission,” yet few words are as routinely, theologically misused as the word “mission.” If asked to give a simple definition of “church mission,” people would likely answer with some version of the following two options: (A) Mission is going out into the community and the world to help others, or (B) Mission is actively making disciples in the community and the world by spreading the gospel of Christ. The first builds on Jesus’ commandment to “love our neighbor as ourselves” and the admonition that whenever we do good deeds “unto the least of these in the Kingdom of God” it is as if we are doing them to Christ himself. The second option builds on the missionary impulse of the early church as found in the Great Commission to “go and make disciples in all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19).

Now at the risk of over-generalization, the first option is strongly emphasized in progressive churches while the second option is commonly found in more evangelical churches. The first puts an emphasis on “faith is what we do,” and encourages us to be active in living out our faith as evidenced by our good works for those in need. The second emphasizes “faith is what we believe” and challenges us to be active in articulating our faith to others, so that they too may come to possess a faith that is easily articulated and shared with others.

Walter Brueggemann is an eloquent, cantankerous, prophetic theologian whom I admire. He is an Old Testament scholar, but also a man skilled in rebutting our modern tendency to water down the Christian faith. Brueggemann reminds us that God is not a quaint, easily-comprehended God; that God is often hidden, opaque, and certainly not prone to self-revelations at our beck and call. Unfortunately, our language about God and mission often forgets that fundamental fact. Here’s three sentences from Brueggemann that I promise you’ll have to read slowly at least two or three times:

Liberals, embarrassed by the otherness of the biblical idiom, have kept control of matters through rationalistic speech that in the end affirms that “God has no hands but ours,” issuing in burdensome self-congratulations. Conservatives, fearful of speech that is undomesticated, have insisted on flattening biblical testimony into the settled categories of scholasticism that freezes truth ... Neither liberal rationalism nor scholastic conservatism will yield any energy or freedom for serious, sustained obedience or for buoyant elemental trust.

Mission is not just what we do (“God has no hands but ours”), nor is it what we believe and convince others to believe (“flattened biblical testimony that freezes truth”). Mission is our encounter with God that leads to testimonies of words and deeds. God comes to us, seeking us out to shake us, comfort us, inspire us, discipline and train us. God in Christ does this on God’s own terms, not ours. Yet it is done out of God’s covenant love and compassion for us. To give testimony about this (in word and deed) is to live a life of integrated faith, in which what we believe undergirds how we live with others. Both liberals and conservatives are called to do this type of “mission testimony” because in doing real Christian mission, we are the church. So in the coming weeks, think about how you’ve encountered God and how you define “mission” in your own life, and join us for worship in October as we humbly consider this subject together.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, September 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

A father, who happens to be a police officer, wrote a letter to his kids, sealed it in a plain white envelope, and put it in his locker at work with instructions not to open it unless something horrible happened to him. He described it this way: “It’s three pages long, and it sums up what I’ve learned in four decades of life: Live in the moment, do not attach yourself to physical things, treat others the way you would like to be treated, find happiness in the service of others, make the most out of today, follow your dreams, etc.” As a police officer, he noted that he’d seen life ended or irrevocably changed in an instant. Knowing that the letter is there makes him more comfortable with his own mortality. And it reminds him to be careful at work and to strive to truly practice all the things he’s written down. (Essay by Tim Wilson in book This I Believe: On Fatherhood)

As I read this brief essay, I loved the little details it included: how the letter was held in place by a Marvin the Martian magnet, and that it was surrounded by other things, like photos of his kids, “Far Side” cartoons, poems, business cards, and other miscellany. More importantly, the letter is visible every time this father puts on his police uniform, and on some level is a reminder about being safe and doing good as he goes about his work routine.

What are the things you have on your desk or near your workspace (whether at a job or at home)? In particular, what photos or mementos, souvenirs or keepsakes, do you have near you that remind you of what is important in your life? Do a survey of these items. Take stock of the photos, trinkets, postcards, and clippings that fall within your gaze every day. I hope they are things that energize or inspire you; or at least things that make you smile.

But also notice whether any of the items have a clear “faith component” to them. Are any of them religious in nature - perhaps a short scripture verse, an inspirational message, a bit of religious artwork? Do any of them make reference to virtues toward which we should all strive: peace, justice, love, hope, or serve as reminders for healthy habits we should daily practice - pray, laugh, forgive, listen?

I have a rock upon which my daughter painted “Best Dad Ever,” as if it was a movie review. I have another polished rock that has been engraved with only one word, justice. I have a small wooden copy of the crucifix that St. Francis of Assisi saw on a chapel wall, in which he heard the voice of Christ tell him to “go and repair my house.” I have a photograph someone gave me of a beautiful sunset.

I mention these things only to spark your own imagination. It takes so little to tilt an entire day in the direction of God, as opposed to only being focused on the ways of the world. It takes so little to remind us to do good, love justice, and walk humbly with the Lord. And yet, from so little can come so much. This month, find something “faith-full” to put in your line of sight each day and allow God to use that little thing as the means to a deeper commitment to the ways of the Spirit and Truth and Joy.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, August 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

The author Toni Morrison recently gave a commencement address to the students at Rutgers University, in which she made the following comment: "I have often wished that Jefferson had not used the phrase "the pursuit of happiness" [in the Declaration of Independence preamble]. I would rather he had written "life, liberty, and the pursuit of meaningfulness" or "integrity" or "truth." I know that happiness has been the real, if covert, goal of your labors here. I know that it informs your choice of companions and the profession you will enter. But I urge you, please don't settle for happiness. It's not good enough. Personal success devoid of meaningfulness, free of a steady commitment to social justice, that's more than a barren life; it's a trivial one. It's looking good instead of doing good."

I wish people could hear those words from that commencement speech, for it offers an important challenge to us as people of faith. I am not well-informed about the thought processes that guided Jefferson, as he struggled to put into words the ideals of our fledgling nation. I know that he was well-read and influenced by the Enlightenment philosophy of his age (e.g., John Locke). I am sure that the idea of a full democracy, as opposed to a monarch-led, hierarchical system of government, opened the door to a range of individual freedoms that had scarcely been imagined (much less realized) in Western history up to that point in time. Morrison remarked that an earlier draft of the Declaration preamble had used the phrase "the pursuit of property," but that it was later amended to "pursuit of happiness." Both speak to ideals of self-determinism and individual liberty. But in the context of modern society, I am afraid that Jefferson's word choice no longer bears positive fruit.

To pursue happiness is a task too easily defined from personal perspectives. By that I mean that we append onto Jefferson's phrase (the pursuit of happiness) personal adjectives, so that suddenly our foundational document suggests that America exists to safeguard "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness for me." Suddenly the point of reference has shrunk from being national and communal in focus to being individualistic and personal in focus. This interpretative move is counter-productive, for there is no way a democracy can serve the common needs of a commonwealth if its founding principles are shaped solely by the desire to safeguard individual desires and wants. Imagine the chaos in a family if all decisions can be challenged because one person in the household isn't having his or her total desires met. There are compromises inherent in our life together--whether that involves families deciding which particular television show will be watched that evening or city governments working out how to distribute tax revenues to provide services for the larger public.

I like the idea of our democracy being committed to safeguarding the right of each individual to pursue meaningfulness or integrity or truth. Those terms still bespeak a quality of personal choice, but the horizon toward which the individual aspires is always a communal, shared horizon. Meaningfulness for one person necessarily asks about the well-being of one's neighbor, for how can something be truthful and "meaning-full" if the expression of it involves the denigration of someone else? How can my life be considered one marked by integrity if my decisions and actions are unjust and unkind toward another?

Aspirational language has been at the heart of the American historical experience, coupled with a commitment to the "self-evident" quality of doing what is right. Our faith would go farther and remind us that God, too, wills the best for us and calls us to aspire for the greater goods. (I Corinthians 12:31, "Strive for the greater gifts and I will show you a still more excellent way.") The example of Christ and the Spirit of God calls us to pursue something deeper than happiness: we are called to seek joy, to work for justice, to trust in God's gift of perfect peace. All of that involves something more than the contemporary definition of being happy. Which is a good thing. Really.

In deciding what we should pursue in this life, let us do so faithfully, mindful that we walk farthest when we walk together, and there are many, many things of greater value in this life than the mere experience of personal happiness.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, July 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

The English language is a language of verbs. Other languages are full of nouns. Think of German, with its long, compound words to describe persons, places, and things. By contrast, English is a language built around verbs. For example, the current edition of the Oxford English Dictionary lists 645 different meanings for the verb "to run." Think about the different ways we use that particular verb: run a race, a run on the bank, run an idea up the flagpole, run a fever, running on empty, runs in the family, iPod’s running apps, cars running on gas, getting a run in one’s stockings, and running a ship aground, to name a few.

Verbs, by definition, mostly deal with action and movement. They can be passive (e.g., being pushed on a swing) or active (e.g., competing in a marathon), yet quite often they communicate a sense of motion and vitality. Now here’s the tie-in for our church newsletter: Christian faith should be built more around verbs than nouns. Nouns are important, for they provide us with points of reference for our faith life – but what is the real use of a church building unless you enter and worship therein? What is the lasting value of a bible that is never read or a hymn that is never sung? Faith is something that animates us in our daily walk of life; it’s not just something we ponder abstractly or treat like an object on display in a museum somewhere.

When John Bell, the musician/theologian from the Iona Community, visited us last year, he commented that too much of our church art and music is focused on images of Jesus that are static and passive. We love the image of Jesus as the baby born in the manger, but babies are helpless and totally dependent on others. We are moved by the image of Jesus crucified on the cross, but the nails literally keep Christ fixed in one spot. And we are filled with awe at the image of Jesus as the Risen Lord, enthroned in heaven in all his glory; but that is also a distant, static portrayal of Christ. We need to remember how Jesus lived and moved and engaged others during his earthly ministry. We need to picture Jesus touching the wounded and outcast, embracing the grieving and vulnerable, laughing with his friends, eating with saints and sinners alike, and generally being on the move as much as possible.

During the upcoming summer months, what are the verbs you’ll be using as part of your life of faith? To be still in times of prayer and Sabbath-rest counts as an appropriate passive verb. To engage, serve, volunteer, and study all count as positive active verbs. Perhaps the options from Micah 6:8 are as good a trio of faith verbs as any when looking for guiding principles: to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God. Build your faith around verbs, trusting in the Holy Spirit, who animates and enlivens and invigorates us each day to the glory of God.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, June 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

In today's skeptical society, the phrase "Nullius in verba" (loosely translated as "take no one's word for anything") seems like the active slogan of our age. We hear one television commentator describe something for us, and then a quick flip through the channels brings up another commentator's totally different perspective. Politicians present competing budget proposals. Economists offer contradictory forecasts about how things are going. Military analysts talk about "enhanced techniques of interrogation," which unfortunately sound far too similar to what used to be called "torture." Is this a new by-product of the 21st century, Internet age?

In truth, you can go back 350 years and discover another time when "Nullius in verba" was taken as a word to the wise. A new book by Edward Dolnick (The Clockwork Universe) describes how bad things were in London, England back in the mid-17th century. Adults only lived to about age 30 and the plague of 1665 killed up to 6,000 people a week. Then in 1666 a huge fire burnt the city to the ground, even melting the bells of St. Paul's Cathedral. People thought that the terrible voice of God was wreaking judgment across the land.

It was then that a group of scholars, led by Isaac Newton, formed the Royal Society, believing that behind God's universe was a mathematical and logical order able to be glimpsed, if one pursued it scientifically. Hence "nullius in verba." Ideas should be tested through experiments. Results must be able to be reproduced before being accepted as proof. This scholarly model would eventually blossom into the Enlightenment, the foundation of the political and cultural revolution that led to modern Western society.

"Take no one's word for anything" is not a seed of truth able to bear fruit if it is taken to be a cynical rejection of everyone's opinion (especially when it differs from your own). Its value comes when, like Isaac Newton, we commit ourselves go beyond superficial appearances and easy, accepted answers whenever we face important decisions in life. The New Testament regularly tells us to ask questions and work hard at discerning what is true and virtuous. Paul writes "Test everything; hold fast to what is good" (I Thess. 5:21) and I John 4 begins with the admonition "Do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God."

Important decisions always require sincere, spiritual deliberation. Salesmen and telemarketers have a vested investment in quick decisions; God in Christ has a vested interest in helping us make righteous decisions. At important crossroads in life, pause for prayer and reflection. Ask the Lord to open the way forward, while closing off those options that are contrary to God's will. Listen for the whispered leading of the Holy Spirit. Trust that the living Lord, like a good shepherd, has come that we may have life, and have it abundantly (Jn 10:10). In place of "Nullius in verba," hold on to the phrase "Soli Deo Gloria" – To God Alone be the Glory.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, May 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

How you tell a story can make all the difference in the world. For example, imagine you are at a dinner party and a question arises about fairness and justice in today’s world. No one disagrees with those values in principle; we all want to be treated fairly and we want society to function in a just manner. But someone tosses out a follow-up question: “Is it fair for the wealth in America to be concentrated in the hands of the few?” Having just endured the annual ritual of mailing in our taxes, many will quickly respond that it isn’t fair for some to have so much while so many are struggling to get by. Others will worry that such talk sounds undemocratic and dangerous.

At this point, the dinner party conversation begins to divide the room into two factions. Some argue that fixing this problem is a matter of moral principle and ethics; others argue that any form of income redistribution is an unjust, unethical proposition. One side will quote the old maxim, “For each according to ability, to each according to need”; the other side will argue “From each only as they choose, to each only as they are chosen.” Enforced fairness vs. capitalist freedom: Is there any way to bridge this divide?

I would mention two possibilities. First, the hypothetical conversation described above became problematic as soon as a few “loaded” phrases were tossed out, such as “income distribution” and “each according to need” (which will inevitably evoke Karl Marx’s name and risk being dismissed as dangerous, socialist rhetoric). Any conversation about fairness and justice in America needs to be grounded in real experiences. This newsletter issue has a special theme related to mission, such as mission partnerships with Malawi or mission trips to the Gulf Coast region. Before we move to language about redistributing income or wealth imbalances, it is important to have a case study before us. Consider the victims of Hurricane Katrina still struggling to get their lives back in order. What is fair and just for them? Is the correct and adequate amount of resources available to them to do what is right and humane and faithful?

Second, we are in the season immediately after Easter. It is that marvelous period when Jesus appeared to men and women as the resurrected Lord. He came into locked upper rooms, when the disciples were afraid for their lives and still grieving how they had abandoned their Lord. Jesus walked on the road to Emmaus and appeared on a Galilean beach to share breakfast with people who had betrayed and deserted him just days before. By worldly standards, Jesus’ behavior does not seem fair; rather it is exceptionally generous. He takes the initiative to make amends, to offer hope, to heal lingering wounds, to comfort the grieving, to restore friendship and trust and community.

How you tell the story does make all the difference. If our dinner conversations or political debates are on the topic of fairness and justice, then let’s not be afraid to begin with the examples at the heart of our Christian faith. Let’s think of ethics and moral rights, not from the perspective of Harrisburg or Washington first, but from the perspective of Emmaus, Galilee, and the Jerusalem upper room. As Christ took the initiative, so should we do the same for others in need. That’s a central part of the Easter good news and what we are called to re-present to a broken and hurting world.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, April 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

African-American preacher, theologian and mystic Howard Thurman (1900-1981) wrote a wonderful poem called “The Threads in My Hand.” It begins this way:

“Only one end of the threads, I hold in my hand. The threads go many ways, linking my life with other lives.”

He goes on to describe how one thread is connected to the life of one who is sick, a thread needing to be held tenderly. Another thread comes from the hands of an old, old friend who, quite unintentionally, we have lost touch with and so that thread has slackened and fallen limp. A third thread is a tangled mess that won't come right. It represents times of angry words, false starts and past mistakes--all disappointing events, but still things we hold onto; and so that thread is in our grasp as well.

Lent is the season for examining the threads we hold in our hands. It is a time to ponder the ties that bind us to one another. Some threads extend forth to family, young and old, or to friends, near and far. Some connect us to people who depend on us for support; others link us to people to whom we rely on in times of need. And some are a “tangled mess,” complicated and knotty, full of memories of regret, disappointment, and dark nights of the soul.

Thurman named a fourth thread, one that comes from a “high-flying kite [that] quivers with the mighty current of fierce and holy dreaming, invading the common day with far-off places and visions bright.” This is the thread linked to the best in the human spirit. It is that part of us that dreams dreams and dares to work for a better tomorrow, knowing that “hope is the thing with feathers” (Emily Dickinson).

But this aspirational thread is not enough. One more is needed, which Thurman describes in the poem's final paragraph:

One thread is a strange thread--it is my steadying thread; When I am lost, I pull it hard and find my way. When I am saddened, I tighten my grip and gladness glides along its quivering path; When the waste places of my spirit appear in arid confusion, the thread becomes a channel of newness of life. One thread is a strange thread--it is my steadying thread. God's hand holds the other end.

The line from Lent to Easter is like God's steadying thread of faith. Though one of the many threads we clutch in our hands, it is the one that leads us home when we are lost, lifts our spirits when we are sad, and brings us resurrection life when we encounter the shadow of death. This thread may seem fragile and strange at times, which it is, but its value comes solely from who holds the other end--the One who is with us always, who has promised to never let go. In that is our hope and our comfort and our Easter joy. Thanks be to God!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, March 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

On the list of best non-fiction books for 2010 is a book by Isabel Wilkerson called The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration. It is a lively account of the experiences of more than six million African-Americans who migrated from the Southern states to the North in search of better jobs and living conditions. It tells the stories of three individuals who left Mississippi, Florida, and Louisiana between 1937 and 1953. It is fascinating to read these stories of exhausting cross-country trips across a very segregated countryside, and how the families ended up in crowded apartment houses and ghettos, having to confront incredible prejudices regarding these new urban workers.

While Pittsburgh was not one of the destinations for the book’s main characters, our city did appear in one chapter.

“Many companies didn’t hire colored workers--not because of an explicit Berlin Wall of exclusion written into law, as in the South, but because their white workers just wouldn’t stand for it. A glass plant in Pittsburgh tried to hire colored workers, but the white workers ran them out by cursing them and making conditions so unpleasant they were forced to quit. At a steel mill there, the white bargemen threatened to walk out when black workers were introduced among them. Millworkers were only appeased by the provision of separate quarters for the colored workers.” (p. 316, slightly edited)

These experiences in Pittsburgh were typical of Northern cities receiving migrants from Southern states. Yet an additional value in studying this historical narrative is to consider how migration and “uprootedness” is so central to the Christian story. No matter where you turn in the bible, you run into stories of people on the move, trying to “sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land” (Ps. 137). Stories like Adam and Eve living “east of Eden,” Abram and Sarai moving toward Palestine, Moses and the Hebrew people seeking the Promised Land, Ruth following Naomi from Moab to Bethlehem, Jesus and his disciples walking the back roads of Galilee, or Paul spreading the gospel on his various missionary journeys.

In our own lives, think how often people move today and recall for yourself what it feels like to settle into a new community. Remember that one criteria of faith and righteousness involves how well we welcome the stranger in our midst. The migration experiences of previous generations continue today for many, many people in our own city. How well are we as individuals and as a congregation welcoming the sojourner and traveler?

One of the phrases we are considering as part of our church’s Strategic Vision process is “radical hospitality.” Give some thought to how that phrase can come alive for you in your daily walk of faith. As followers of Christ called to forgive as we’ve been forgiven and to love as we’ve been loved, we are also to welcome as we’ve all been welcomed. Perhaps by doing the latter work first, the other two categories will be easier to accomplish as well.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, February 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

On the list of best non-fiction books for 2010 is a book by Isabel Wilkerson called The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration. It is a lively account of the experiences of more than six million African-Americans who migrated from the Southern states to the North in search of better jobs and living conditions. It tells the stories of three individuals who left Mississippi, Florida, and Louisiana between 1937 and 1953. It is fascinating to read these stories of exhausting cross-country trips across a very segregated countryside, and how the families ended up in crowded apartment houses and ghettos, having to confront incredible prejudices regarding these new urban workers.

While Pittsburgh was not one of the destinations for the book’s main characters, our city did appear in one chapter.

“Many companies didn’t hire colored workers--not because of an explicit Berlin Wall of exclusion written into law, as in the South, but because their white workers just wouldn’t stand for it. A glass plant in Pittsburgh tried to hire colored workers, but the white workers ran them out by cursing them and making conditions so unpleasant they were forced to quit. At a steel mill there, the white bargemen threatened to walk out when black workers were introduced among them. Millworkers were only appeased by the provision of separate quarters for the colored workers.” (p. 316, slightly edited)

These experiences in Pittsburgh were typical of Northern cities receiving migrants from Southern states. Yet an additional value in studying this historical narrative is to consider how migration and “uprootedness” is so central to the Christian story. No matter where you turn in the bible, you run into stories of people on the move, trying to “sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land” (Ps. 137). Stories like Adam and Eve living “east of Eden,” Abram and Sarai moving toward Palestine, Moses and the Hebrew people seeking the Promised Land, Ruth following Naomi from Moab to Bethlehem, Jesus and his disciples walking the back roads of Galilee, or Paul spreading the gospel on his various missionary journeys.

In our own lives, think how often people move today and recall for yourself what it feels like to settle into a new community. Remember that one criteria of faith and righteousness involves how well we welcome the stranger in our midst. The migration experiences of previous generations continue today for many, many people in our own city. How well are we as individuals and as a congregation welcoming the sojourner and traveler?

One of the phrases we are considering as part of our church’s Strategic Vision process is “radical hospitality.” Give some thought to how that phrase can come alive for you in your daily walk of faith. As followers of Christ called to forgive as we’ve been forgiven and to love as we’ve been loved, we are also to welcome as we’ve all been welcomed. Perhaps by doing the latter work first, the other two categories will be easier to accomplish as well.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, January 2011

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

With the start of a new year comes a wonderful opportunity. The month of January means that a new period in each of our lives has begun. It is true that each of us carry over many things from day to day and week to week, so that our daily routines easily become unending cycles of repetition. But a new year can signify a dramatic break in that cycle.

As you prepare to “turn the calendar,” consider this interesting fact. A recent book about technology and modern culture suggested that colonial American households typically contained fewer than 100 objects. The author (Kevin Kelly) did not list those items, but I can well imagine that the furniture, utensils and accessories for daily life 200 years ago were much simpler than in contemporary homes. As a mental exercise, take out a sheet of paper and jot down the possible items you imagine were present back in those colonial homes. Then look around your own kitchen, family room, bathroom and bedroom. It would be safe to say that our lives involve thousands of objects unknown to our colonial ancestors. In case you think that last sentence is an over-statement, remember that the typical supermarket today sells more than 48,000 different items.

If there are hundreds or thousands of objects in a typical room around you, the obvious question is “Do I need all this?” If those objects could talk, they would likely reply, “Of course, you do!” Worried that some drastic house-cleaning is about to unfold, the frying pans, breadmakers, and toaster ovens would describe how they make your life better and your meals more convenient. The answering machines, cellphones, and computers would insist that they are necessary to stay connected in this electronic day and age. The racks of clothes, piles of shoes, stacks of books, albums, CDs and magazines would let you know that they bring you happiness and help keep you in style.

It is hard to argue with such persuasive household items. But before you invite them into the conversation, re-imagine the colonial house. Then, fill a good-sized box with items that you are reasonably sure you can live without. You don’t have to give it away yet; just mark it “January 2011” and find a place to store it. If you go six months or a year and never need any item from your box, there’s a good chance that you can donate everything and then re-fill the box in January 2012.

A simple exercise like the one I’ve suggested works on two levels. It causes you to look around with fresh eyes and consciously seek to simplify your life. It also causes you to re-think what is important in your daily life. Without self-examination, the “new year” will simply be an “old year” with a new date attached to it. Any time we ask about what is important, we are asking faith questions. And God loves to chime into those conversations. So take some time in early January to look around, to re-think what you truly need in your life, and to listen to the house-cleaning, soul-cleaning advice God lovingly offers.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, December 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

One of the most famous lines in E.M. Forster’s novel Howards End is the phrase “only connect.” It is both a diagnosis of a problem and a prescription for a cure. Its stark message names the space that too readily exists between us, the gaps in life and relationships that need to be overcome if we are going to live together in harmony. And in an emphatic way, it tells us to reach across the divide and simply re-connect with one another.

Forster’s novel was set in pre-World War I, Victorian England, a time in which social protocols kept people distant and formal in their relations even as new technology and global challenges were bringing people closer together. In chapter 22, the rallying cry was given its fullest expression:

“Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect...”

There is a heartfelt hope that the two parts of life--the prose and the passion, the formal and the vulnerable--might come together, and love in its fullest expression would finally be possible.

There is an eerie similarity between this Victorian-era sentiment and our modern computer era. Constantly we are told about social media that connects people across boundaries of time and space--Facebook communities, Twitter fans, e-mail messages collecting on our computer screen and heralding their arrival through beeps coming from our iPhones, BlackBerrys, and pagers. We are bombarded with contact with others, and yet struggle with issues of intimacy, of in-depth relationships, and of truly connecting as family and friends any more.

The gospel of Jesus Christ, especially as it is shared during the seasons of Advent and Christmas, offers a healing re-formulation of Forster’s phrase. In the joyful news of the birth of Christ, the heavens themselves proclaim God’s message, “I will connect with you!” No longer is the responsibility for bridging the gap left solely upon our shoulders. God in Christ has taken the task to heart and come to us that we might “connect” with God and one another. “Prose and passion” are both exalted. The law of Moses, the rhetoric of the prophets, the sweep of a salvation-history that stretches from creation’s dawn to the distant horizon of God’s realm are all condensed and inter-connected in the birth of Jesus Christ.

We can connect because God has first connected with us. We can trust and hope because, through the healing grace and covenantal love of Christ, we have been made trustworthy and eternally hopeful. As you purchase gifts or send cards, as you pray for others and seek to do acts that are just and compassionate, trust that you can connect with others because God in Christ has connected with us. Let all the earth rejoice!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, November 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

Isaac Newton’s Third Law of Motion states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Physicists know this to be true, as do parents, where there is more than one child in the household. Newton’s law is important for the physical sciences, but this principle is much less helpful in interpersonal relations. Imagine how counterproductive it would be if every time a person offered to help someone else, the recipient would run the other way or question the motives of the would-be Good Samaritan.

I recently read that, in the computing world, a company was developing a “contradiction search engine.” This product is designed so that whatever statement you input as data, the Internet will be searched to find examples that will contradict it. Tell the computer that the sky is blue, that it will be sunny today, or that the President is a Christian, and it will find responses that insist just the opposite. It is a feature that appears to be aimed at political commentators and curmudgeons of all persuasions.

The nature of public media today leads us to distrust much of what we read, or at least to question that we are hearing a full, unbiased account of events. The old battle cry of a previous generation--“Question Authority”--has now been expanded to insist that “There is No Authority.” In the days of the apostle Paul, people used to visit the altars and temples of numerous gods, offering sacrifices and hedging their bets by currying favor with a variety of deities. Now people show a tendency to shy away from altars, temples, synagogues and churches of all types, living lives of functional atheism or at least non-engaged spirituality.

Is there a way to counter the spiritual version of Newton’s Third Law of Motion? How do we live lives of Christian witness and positive action without provoking negative, opposite reactions that cause people to avoid church altogether? The surprising answer is that Newton’s Third Law seldom applies when a life of faith is led with humility, integrity and sincerity.

Everyone’s definition of happiness still centers around the same basic goals of peace, health, being in loving relationships, and having a sense of purpose for one’s life. A life in relationship to God, grounded on the grace and hope made real in Jesus Christ, is a life that seeks what is peaceful, life-sustaining, and loving. And despite the “ups” and “downs” that mark everyone’s life journey, an Easterfaith that looks toward a promised horizon promised by God will be a faithful life that has a strong sense of purpose. Where that is present in your life, others will take note--and if they are wise, they will ask you to share your secret. Or they will follow your example as you mention where you attend church or comment that you will be holding them in prayer.

Long ago, Jesus said to Peter and Andrew, “Come, follow me.” He didn’t begin with handing out a study guide or doing an intake exam. It was in the act of following that the fishermen became disciples. Walk your daily life in such a way that others can follow you, and in that act of following, find their way to faith, to a Christian community, and to a life of hope. Start this month. Make the season of Thanksgiving into a spirit season of “Thanksliving.” For something higher than Newton’s Third Law is active in our world. Thanks be to God!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, October 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

What is happiness? I am struck by how seldom we talk about happiness anymore. The media always has a lot to say about national moods of anger and anxiety, and banner headlines routinely tell us that people are fed up, frustrated, and “fit to be tied”, to use one of my grandmother’s phrases. But when was the last time you read or heard anything positive about happiness?

On the rare occasion that people try to analyze happiness, it usually is defined as something dependent on a few fundamentals: 1) Have your basic needs covered (food, shelter, health and safety). 2) Get enough sleep. 3) Be in relationships that matter to you. 4) Show compassion to others and yourself. 5) Have work or interests that engage you. [Summary from Amy Bloom, NY Times Book Review, Jan. 31, 2010] But once you have given yourself a grade on this checklist, do you feel happy? Or do you end up feeling worse, beating yourself up for not having engaging hobbies, coupled with lousy sleep habits?

One secret of happiness is that it is “other-focused.” Being happy does not result from self-inventories, but rather from being aware of things outside ourselves that make our lives meaningful and put a lilt in our step. This is more than just counting your blessings; it is being able to remember and give thanks for the way that your body and spirit are fed through times of beauty, words of good humor, and opportunities to serve and be served by others. This issue of Reaching Out, with its emphasis on mission, hopefully will spark some interest in deeds that encourage an “attitude for gratitude.”

As one who routinely gets a song stuck in his head, I think that another helpful resource is to have a “happiness mantra”--a word or phrase that we remember when times are tough and which gives us a dose of encouragement. This mantra should be something more than the autosuggestion that “everyday in every day I am getting better and better.” It needs to be more than Norman Vincent Peale’s power of positive thinking; more than Disney’s “Whistle While You Work” or Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”

My recommendation for a phrase that can elicit happiness and inner peace is the opening line from the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which says that the chief end of humanity is to glorify God and to enjoy God forever. Our primary role in life is other-focused, or more specifically, God-directed. Our words, deeds, thoughts and prayers are for glorifying God. But equally as important is that we enjoy God forever--to literally be graced by God with joy and happiness. This is not something we do; rather it is something God does through us and for us. The knowledge of God’s love (revealed in Jesus Christ) and the experience of the Holy Spirit’s providential presence in our daily life leads us to states of joy. It frees us, encourages us, and thereby brings us happiness. This month add that phrase to your “happiness checklist” and see what a difference it can make!

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, September 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

September: the month when children go back to school and when church school classes for all ages start again. School teachers know that you do not begin the first day of class with new material, but that you go back and review material already covered. For us too, as we enter another season in the life of the church, it is good to review some material already covered.

“In the beginning...” So begins the famous opening to the book of Genesis (a word which means “origins,” as in the English word “genealogical”). The first line is a statement asserted without any compulsion to offer other proof: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth.” How it occurred, out of what materials, in what geological timeframe--none of those questions is addressed or felt to be a particular matter of concern. All that is important is the establishment of two actors in the grand drama of life--a creator, God, and a created stage for life consisting of heavens and earth.

Immediately, those few words cause people to part company. One group moves to the other side of the room, self-identifying themselves with a variety of titles: skeptic, scientist, rationalist, atheist, doubter…and then they insist that all that exists can be explained in non-religious terms. The universe has always been, or at least emerged on its own after the Big Bang. Human life evolved from simple life-forms. Human emotions and so-called spiritual inclinations (be they altruistic virtues or creative visions or instinctual, sacrificial love) are just the byproduct of hormones and genetic impulses. Smaller and smaller the conversational focus becomes, moving away from talk of heaven and hunkering down in lectures on genomes and pheromones and natural (“No God needed”) selection.

The other group self-identifies with their own variety of titles: believer, person of faith, trusting soul, churchgoer, religious philosopher…and in their own way, simply insists that all that exists cannot be explained in non-religious terms. While the other group talks about evolution and science and reason; this group nods approvingly and adds in talk about wonder, surprise and hope that is stronger than death. And the place where the scales tip in the direction of belief vs. doubt is that spot when we ask the question: Why? Why is there something instead of nothing? What is the “why” behind an atheistic, impersonal, chance-driven creation?

There is no “why” without God. But by going back once more to Genesis 1 and saying quietly to ourselves, “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth,” then a “Why” and a “Wherefore” emerges. It takes the shape of love, of hope, of a yearning guided toward a promised completion--all of which we humbly attribute to God and then happily spend a lifetime exploring what it means to say “Yes” to that beginning phrase in the book of Genesis.

It’s September. Time to review, to remember our foundations of faith, and then to continue the lesson plan set before us.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, August 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

A recent issue of Presbyterians Today offered a snapshot of what it means to be a Presbyterian. In the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), there are currently 2.1 million members who belong to 10,700 congregations. The highest concentration of Presbyterians is in Pennsylvania (over 215,000 members). Nationally, the average weekly worship attendance is 1.1 million, or just over half the available members. Over $3 billion is given to church congregations each year, with the median household contribution (2007 data) being $2,520 or about 3% of after-tax income. Areas of concern are the fact that half of all Presbyterian congregations have fewer than 100 members, and the denomination has lost over 60,000 members each of the last several years. Areas of pride include the 296 mission co-workers and volunteers who serve the Presbyterian Church in more than 50 countries, including our own member, Chenoa Stock, who has just completed three years in Sri Lanka and is off to an assignment in South America.

Similar statistics can be cited regarding ELPC. We are a church whose rich history dates back to 1819. We ended 2009 with 659 active and affiliate members, plus another 126 Friends of ELPC; and the ratio of female to male members is about 2:1. Each week, we average just under 400 people in attendance at our Sunday and Wednesday (Taizé) worship services. For 2010, 229 pledges were received, with a median pledge amount of $2,328. While we want the number of pledges to increase, the amount pledged by our congregation has increased by 84% since 2004. Other areas of pride include the recently completed Vacation Church School, which averaged 74 children per day in the week-long program.

Statistics are one way to talk about churches, but at best they only offer facts for quick comparison. No statistic can capture the true spirit of a congregation: the way that people minister to and pray for one another, the nurture of mind and body provided by worship and education, the life-giving choices made each day as a direct expression of one’s faith in Jesus Christ. Faith is where so much
begins. From it flows programs (whose volunteers hours we can compile), worship (whose attendance numbers we can record), and mission (whose charitable contributions we can track). But more importantly, from faith also flows prayer (whose impact we never know for the Spirit intercedes for us in countless ways), hope (whose trajectory can never be traced for it extends far beyond us into future generations), and love (whose depth cannot be measured for it is the foundation of who we are and everything good that emerges from us). For the time being, let us set the numbers aside. When we walk by faith, act with humility, and love with generosity, everything will add up to the glory of God.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, July 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

As many of you already are aware, my father passed away in late May after a short battle with lung cancer. For his memorial service, my brother, my sister and I each composed a few paragraphs to capture a few memories of our father. I am sharing my thoughts with you, both as a bit of pastoral “personal privilege” and as an opportunity to model ways that we each can faithfully express how we feel about those we love.

There is a two-fold lesson here. First, we need to seek out ways to share our thoughts with those we love while they are with us. A short note or a few lines added to a greeting card can do so much to keep us connected in bonds of love. Second, our faith in the risen Christ reassures us that even interrupted conversations in this life will have an opportunity to be completed in God’s heavenly realm. Trusting in Christ’s victory over death allows us to see life in its fullest continuum--something that moves from the dawn of creation through the wonder of our earthly life, through the transitional reality of death itself, and on toward a completion shaped by God’s love and promised restoration. That is why we do not grieve as those who have no hope (I Thess. 4:13). Thanks be to God!

F. Richard Bush (Dec. 12, 1927–May 29, 2010) It takes more than words to describe my dad. You need the scent of menthol shaving cream; the feel of rough, hardworking hands; the sound of a tractor coughing and starting up; the sight of a truck kicking up a cloud of dust coming down a gravel road after a long day of work. You need the feel of a wingback chair as Dad launched into a story about Indians, about a current Habitat for Humanity work project, about his time in the Navy, or about any recent trip taken with my mom.

On these occasions, though, people encourage me to describe my dad in words, as one way to respond to their words of condolence: “I’m sorry; we’ll sure miss your father.” Yes, I’ll miss him too. I’ll miss his presence in our family--his role as Suzi’s chauffeur, gardener, handyman, and devoted, loving husband; his role as our father who always wanted to pay the bill when eating out and insisted on driving his car wherever we were going; and his role as the grandfather fretting over the little ones, just sure that whatever they were doing was going to lead to a broken bone or trip to the emergency room.

But there are things I won’t miss for the simple reason that they are still here with me. I won’t miss his example of hard work, of helping a neighbor or friend before they ask, of keeping a promise, of boasting about his family to anyone who’ll listen, or of avoiding the spotlight so that he might clap all the louder for others’ accomplishments. I won’t miss those things because he made sure that Rick, Amy and I learned them from him and that we are to be guided by those same values.

To whatever extend we can live up to his example, we too will have left a legacy that will be hard to put into words--one that will cause others to say “I’ll miss him” when we’re gone. For that, we have my dad to thank.

Randy Bush

Pastoral Message, June 2010

by The Rev. Dr. Randall K. Bush

An occupational hazard of being a pastor is that you rarely get to attend other worship services or hear other minister’s sermons. That is one reason why I enjoy attending the Good Samaritan services, mostly so that I can be a part of that worshiping community and share in the powerful time of intercessory prayer. Although I usually have to leave the service early to prepare for the “Journey” worship time, occasionally the prayer time becomes a mini-sermon time.

One Sunday several months ago, Ray Anthony, an ELPC member and regular Good Samaritan worship attendee, offered some thoughts during the prayer time. As I recall, he spoke about family and about his heartfelt desire that the men of the homeless shelter and vulnerable souls on Pittsburgh’’s streets might know God’s love and peace. He went on to insist that the gospel message is stronger and truer than the messages we commonly hear, and (like a good preacher) proceeded to give three examples.

Ray mentioned how people often say “God helps those who help themselves,” but that’s not quite true. Yes, we are to do the best we can and ever seek to do what is right, but God’s grace most often comes to help those who can’t help themselves. In that assurance comes a real word of hope.

Ray then noted that we speak about the “survival of the fittest.” But life is not just about surviving, and certainly not about working hard to make it at the expense of someone else. The gospel message is about how abundant life and peace is promised, not to the fittest, but to the meek, the weak, the forgotten and overlooked. The promise of resurrection emerged not from a Caesar on a golden throne, but from a crucified teacher on a wooden cross.

Finally Ray commented that some insist “God don’t like ugly.” As true as that might be, God is greater than all the “ugly” in the world, and can get us through times that are hard into new places that exceed our hopes and imagination.

Sometimes the sermon we need to hear doesn’t happen on Sunday morning. Sometimes it is contained in a chance conversation we have in a store, on the bus, or on the phone. Sometimes it is in a story we read in the paper or a song we hear on the radio. The important reminder for all of us is that we can only hear God if we quiet ourselves long enough to listen for God--not expecting a voice from the clouds, but listening to the voice speaking close at hand.

Jesus was the “Word made flesh.” We mustn’t be surprised if people of flesh and blood become the means for that same holy Word to be spoken to us today.

Randy Bush

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