THE BLOG by Pastor Ken Rickett: “ENIGMAS”

Not only do I have an infatuation with large jigsaw puzzles (1000-3000 pieces), but I also spend hours in puzzle books which have a variety of Sudoku, crossword, brick by brick, syl-la-cros-tic, anagram magic squares, word math, escalators, & starspell puzzles, among others.

Enigmatic! You bet! Open a box of a 3000-piece jigsaw puzzle and pick out one piece and ask yourself, “exactly where will this one piece fit when the puzzle is finished?” Realize that you are asking the same question for each of the 3000 pieces! And puzzle books are often hard to solve; the cryptic clues are difficult to figure out, and once in a blue moon, I may barely attempt a puzzle on any given page and in frustration, give up long before I can solve it!

AH…BUT I like challenges. Whether it be family members or friends, whether it be parishioners (when I pastored congregations) or a custom or tradition, there is something enigmatic about people and

events…something mysterious, not understood nor grasped, something that defies explanation. As a husband and as a parent, there are some instances in which one’s own family can be enigmatic, unreadable, not acting in accord with past behavior. This

explains why a surprise birthday party is not usually a surprise…enigmatic behavior around the time of an approaching birthday gives away the secret! And enigmatic behavior in family members may give no clues to the reason(s) for the display of strong emotions (anger, tears, etc.) nor the deepening despair that is expressed by words or by reaction.   

There are times that even those we deeply love are mysteries to us. Most of us have experienced more than a few times in which we had to solve an enigma (puzzling) among family members. I had a family member who lived into her 80s, never married and lived with her parents (my grandparents)…talk about an enigmatic person! Not only was she socially withdrawn, a sharp contrast to her outgoing sisters. She was unable to get a job outside the home. Much of her conversation was a repeat of something just said. Yet, she went to the town library every two weeks for decades and decades until her death, checking out two to four books and reading them. But she could not tell any of us the plot of those books although the family felt that she was fully aware of the storylines. When she was in a nursing home briefly before her passing, the family learned that she suffered all her life from a type of dementia in which her brain could not process and express thoughts for communication. However unfortunate this diagnosis, the enigma, the riddle of her unusual behavior, became solved. 

The world is full of enigmas. For example, what happened to the Malaysian flight MH170 that disappeared without a trace over the ocean a few years ago? What really led to the disappearance of the ancient Mayan dynasty in Central America? What is “driving” the disconnect between today’s church and the people of the land? (If

we knew the answer to this puzzle, positive and effective steps would have been undertaken years ago!) Enigmas give rise to legitimate theories as well as conspiracies as we cope with the vastness of what is not known nor understood.

Enigma, ainigma in Greek (noun), comes from ainissesthai, “to speak in riddles” and refers to things as well as people as “riddles almost impossible to understand.” Does this word appear in Scripture? Yes, but only once. I Corinthians 13:12 (paraphrased) “we see through a mirror but darkly.’ The Greek word ainigma is translated: “darkly” or “dimly.” referring to our human inability to see and to understand the vastness of what God has not yet revealed to us about God-Self and the impossibility of any of us to fully grasp “the image of God within us.”

WHEW! Maybe a bit more explanation will help. In Greek, ainigma has the connotation of being impossible to understand in this earthy life. In this one instance, enigma is NOT a mystery, that is, it is not something hidden but may be found by diligent searching. God still has not fully revealed God-Self and will not be fully revealed until we gather in God’s eternal community. AND, likewise, we, although we are living in Christ, will not see the fullness of the Image of God in us until we enter the Kingdom of Heaven. These things are seen only dimly (darkly as if no light can fully illuminate it). 

So what are we to grasp in this life, even if not perfectly? Faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love. 

The working of God’s Spirit promised by Jesus is enigmatic. The Spirit is never fully known, and neither is God, who is constantly revealing who He is. So, we spend a lifetime seeking to know God and His Love as revealed in Christ. O, the puzzles that confront us who would dare to follow God, revealed in Christ through the Holy Spirit!

Has it ever occurred to you that without enigmas, we would have no reason to live by faith, hope, and love?

When I was a High School student, I played percussion in the local symphony orchestra and the High School band/orchestra.  In the band, I played a variety of drums, but mostly “triples” and we played through most of every song, if we had measures of rests, it was usually not for more than 4 to 8 measures of counting.

However, when playing symphonic music even with the variety of instruments that a percussionist is playing during one piece, the percussionist spends a lot of time counting empty measures.  Sometimes the percussionist may play a crash cymbal at the crescendo of a phrase and not play again for 200 or more measures, then play one or two strikes on the triangle.  Sometimes the percussion enhances or echoes another instrument during the piece, sometimes a drum gives a little extra and added pulse to the orchestra for movement.  Sometimes it is the color that is added: sleighbells or woodblock.  And once-in-a-while, when the moon is blue, the percussionist gets a solo line.

That’s what it’s like to play, not only in the percussion section, but in ANY section of a symphonic orchestra: sometimes you harmonize, sometimes you amplify, sometimes you echo, sometimes you solo, and many times you are silent.  The composer and the conductor see how it all works together…but many times they are the only people who see the whole picture…and balances it out for the ears of the audience.

That is a lesson to be learned by those of us in a “community of faith”, where we each have a role, a gift, a “part” to be performed within the whole of this “symphony of faith.”

Each of us, for the most part, receives a copy of our own part.  To believe that we are looking at the ENTIRE SCORE is as ridiculous as believing that the timpani is the only instrument playing in Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.  There are times when what WE do enhances or harmonizes with another “player”.  There are times to echo what is playing in some other section of the Body of Believers.  There are times when the entire symphony plays together, and we are a part of that magnificent crescendo.  There are times when we need to sit, wait, and be silent as other players perform. And then there are times when we are the soloists, and the other players support us.  The One who wrote the song is the One who knows how and when everyone should play their part.  And the conductor follows the instructions set by the Composer.

It is that way in the Kingdom.  We are, for the most part, playing a part that we alone can see.  We don’t know anyone else’s part until we hear it, even then, it is not our job to do anything but assure that OUR part is played when it should be, and that we don’t play when we shouldn’t…so that that symphony is heard by the world in the way the Composer intended.

A friend of mine sent this link to me, some time ago…a classic. But this gives one a little taste of what it’s like to be a small part of a larger “Kingdom”/Symphony.

Sid Caesar & Imogene Coca – Your Show of Shows – Classical Musicians
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeV9t2pqHWA

THE BLOG by Pastor Rick Vale
Thoughts on the April 8, 2024 Solar Eclipse, as seen in Anderson, Indiana

No one produces a show like our God. It was a spectacular hour and a breathtaking few minutes Monday during the total eclipse of the sun, over Indiana.

We sat out with our neighbors, donned our ever-so-chic and safe, government-approved shades, ate chips and popcorn, watched, and waited.

We checked the status of the sun with our shades on and watched as our neighborhood moved to twilight. We saw birds return to their nests as all around us shadows deepened to a magical dusk…slowly those birds stopped chirping.  The “sunlight-activated” lights on the outsides of our condos blinked on…and in a moment, it was dark…and incredible.

In the distance we heard the cheers of crowds gathered close by, someone begin setting off fireworks.  It was a moment. 

A memory from 1980 came knocking about that time and I was back in May of that year, another time when the sun “went out”. That time, however, what was going to happen next was unknown…the government closed everything down and ordered people home. It was a Sunday, and many congregations were ordered home. Mount St. Helens had erupted, and a sickeningly black and boiling cloud of ash was crossing the state of Washington. No one knew what to expect. Was the ash poisonous? If it rained would the rain be acid? What would happen in the dark. And it got dark, really dark.

I was wondering, last Monday, if that time in 1980 was a bit like those people long ago who didn’t expect an eclipse and faced an unknown without precedent but filled with fear.

As this entire memory passed through my mind in an instant, I was snapped back into the moment by the cheers of my neighbors and the distant crowd when suddenly a spark of light caused the sun to look like a diamond ring. I saw it, brilliant against a dark sky, without my government-approved shades, and then put them on to see what an infinitesimal sliver of sun had peeked through.

Yet looking around it was suddenly, noticeably, brighter. The “diamond ring” itself was stunning, but the fact that so little light could have such a grand effect on the earth was what struck me.

I immediately felt/heard The Spirit remind me about the power of light, and how little light it takes to change the landscape. Names started passing through my mind. Aside from the obvious, Jesus of Nazareth, there was: Paul of Tarsus, Rosa Parks, Oskar Schindler, Martin Luther King, Jr., Johann Sebastian Bach, Moses, Michael Faraday, Wolfgang Mozart, Todd Beamer, John Newton, Thomas Jefferson, Edward DeVere…and on and on. Solitary lives, some well-known and some not so well-known, who stood up to darkness and/or changed the world for the better because of their “single light”.

How little light it takes to change the landscape of the world. 

I frequently hear people remark, with a sense of futility, that there is “nothing I can do” when faced with so much darkness. I would hope that I’ve remembered to remind them how much change has come (for good AND bad) to entire civilizations because of the actions of one person.

Jesus is speaking to a “crowd of individuals” not groups of congregations when He says: “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt should lose its taste, how can it be made salty? It’s no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled on by men. You are the light of the world. A city situated on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and puts it under a basket, but rather on a lampstand, and it gives light for all who are in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” MATTHEW 5:13-16

How little light it takes to change the landscape of the world. 

Let me be blunt. There is a world of difference between our way of life and that of the New Testament. Today we have jet planes that can take us halfway around the globe (12,000 miles) in a few hours but in New Testament times people had to walk everywhere and they were lucky to cover 15 miles a day! Today, our own automobiles can reach speeds of over 100 mph but the fastest vehicle in New Testament times was a horse-drawn chariot! There are just no similarities between the two ways of life! Yet, do we call those days a “simple life.” No! A thousand times no! Life in those days was just as much a struggle as life today. Life was just as unfair then as it is today, but in different ways.

In Luke, Chapter 10, Jesus sent 70 disciples in groups of two people into cities for the purpose of preparing the people to receive Jesus when Jesus came into those cities.

He gave some odd, if not weird instructions, “carry no purse, nor note cards, nor extra shoes, and salute no one. If you enter a house, say ‘peace be unto this house’ and if your peace is rejected then leave that house. Eat and drink what your hosts offer you. Stay there until your work is done and do not go from house to house. Say to the people wherever you go ‘the Kingdom of God is here’. But if you go into a city and they do not welcome you, shake the dust off your feet and move on, but let them know that regardless of the lack of acceptance, that the Kingdom of God will still come.”

In the “plain English” we speak today, and in our way of life today, what, exactly, would Jesus be telling his disciples (us) to do, in order to bear witness to the Gospel? “Carry no purse” means “Don’t carry extra money or a bunch of credit cards!” Why? Well, the next time you drive through a small town where you don’t know a soul, stop and walk the streets and go into a couple of stores. First impressions are HUGE among the locals! If the perception is that you’ve got money to spend (and you are a stranger to them), they will welcome your dollars and likely have little or no desire to sit down and talk a while with you under the shade of the big oak tree in the town square.

“Take no note cards” means just that! In other words, quit worrying about whether you “say it right” or “whether you might leave something out that you should have said.

There is no reason to engage in the stilted language of “religious terminology”, but to converse relationally. Several times over my career as a minister, well-meaning people have knocked on my door to invite me to their church (not a problem) or to ask if I was a Christian (also not a problem), but scripts are a problem. Let me illustrate. Years ago while I was completing the seminary, Della, my wife, babysat, for a physician and her husband in their home. One day I did not have class and I was with Della that afternoon. The doorbell rang, and it was someone from a church of a different denomination. Della answered the door, and she was asked if she was a “believer?” Her reply was “of course! My husband is in the seminary to become a minister” to which the reply was, “BUT is he saved?” Della said, “I’m sorry. I have to go” and shut the door.

Scripts put people on the defensive, and usually brings a quick closure to what could have been a productive conversation. Scripts also assume that the meaning of religious words and phrases are known by the general public–even if a person has never read a Bible Story or heard a sermon. No wonder Jesus said, “No pre-scripted conversations, please!”

“Don’t take an extra pair of shoes” is puzzling advice, so I will put it in plain language. If the extra pair of shoes is patent-leather Guccis, in a community in which the streets are full of sand, then it is obvious that such shoes will testify to a wealthy life and therefore, these extra shoes serve no real purpose other than to impress rather than to find common ground. Of course, it goes without saying that “extras” imply that the messenger has been blessed far beyond what anyone else dares to expect from God.

“Salute no one!” means “seek no favors!” To seek favors, one has to assume that another person has something to offer that would otherwise be unavailable. Can you imagine a disciple of Jesus who curries the favor of a Roman official while on this mission? Do not think of “salute” in this instance as recognizing military rank; rather, salute means to impress inappropriately.

“Peace be unto this house!” If your peace is rejected, then leave. This is not “wearing out your welcome” but rather “peace” is a “comfort zone” that one detects upon entering the home of a stranger. Not long ago I was visited by a couple of Mormon missionaries. “May we give you a copy of our book? “No,” I replied, and the peace was uneasy. Then I said, “My hobby is genealogy, and I must admit that I have had some success in using Mormon genealogy records.” Ah! Conversation flowed with less awkwardness. Peace? Nevertheless, I affirmed my long association with the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), and they soon went on their way. There was no “peace” that would foster hours of conversation. But had my visitor been Pastor Rick or perhaps you! Peace would come instantly!

“Eat and drink what the host offers you!” In other words, don’t get up 30 minutes early and run to McDonald’s to get your breakfast and coffee–and eat and drink in front of your hosts! Or don’t sneak out to the steak house in the afternoon and then later decline the meal prepared by your hosts! Believe me, insults will not be tolerated!

“Do not go from house to house.” Accept the hospitality of your hosts! In the summer of 1971, between completing college in May and beginning the seminary in September, I served the summer as a youth minister at a church in Rural Hall, NC. I knew in advance that I would be spending the summer in 3 different homes over the 10-week summer. Thankfully, the minister of the church gave me excellent advice, telling me to refrain from accepting last-minute offers for a meal without allowing time for my host family to adjust their meal preparation because providing meals were a part of their obligation to host me. But I was free to accept a meal in another home if arrangements with the host family were made, let’s say, at least the day before my invitation. Wise advice, indeed!

“Tell everyone you meet that the Kingdom of God is here (near)!” I have a friend with whom I went all four years at Mars Hill University. He went to one seminary, and I went to another. We lost touch for many years, then I went to a General Assembly in which he, George Bullard, had led a two-day seminar just prior to the opening of the General Assembly, also sponsored by the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). George was a church consultant who kept abreast of trends and changes happening across America, regarding religious and church life. Of all his insights about the decline of attendance in congregational life of many denominations, he was adamant about this one: “Preach the Kingdom!” If we preach the “church” (even though it is the Body of Christ), then we invite people to see its shortcomings as well as those of church members. But if we preach the Kingdom, the coming of God’s Rule on earth as revealed through Jesus Christ who brings the Kingdom to earth that God’s will be done as it is in heaven, then we understand that God is constantly bringing God’s eternal rule on earth through redemption and love. Perhaps the criticism of the church as a “just one more institution that works through ‘proper channels’” would be blunted by the image of an imperfect but constantly emerging Kingdom of God on earth that reaches perfection in the fulfillment of the Kingdom when a new heaven and earth are created. Which sounds more exciting to you–an invitation to “enter and explore the Kingdom of God on earth” or a plea to “attend church every Sunday?”

“If you go into a city and they do not welcome you, shake the dust off your feet…but let them know that the Kingdom of God is still coming!” O, such a misunderstood verse!

Shaking the dust off one’s feet as one leaves the city is not a condemnation because the message “the Kingdom of God is coming” doesn’t change. So, what does this admonition mean? First, it means, “if you feel ineffective in that place, move on, and perhaps come back later.” Nothing creates a void in life like a feeling of “spinning wheels!” So don’t burn out on sharing the message of the Kingdom but find fertile soil.

Second, “shake the dust off your feet” means to move on and not carry with you the disappointments and hurts and agony of an unproductive environment. Recognize that you can go back later or that someone with a different personality or approach may be more effective. This advice has little to do with the city, but much to do with one’s own renewal and readiness for continued ministry and mission. “Shaking the dust off” is not a calling down of God’s fury upon the city because… 

…the message that God’s Kingdom is coming stands before that city with hope and promise!

Our home is like a beautiful “storage room”, we have a lot of stuff.  But I can point to each item of mine and tell you the story behind it, and why I hang on to it.  I suppose that’s how hoarding starts.

There is one piece of “knick-knackery” that reminds me of a time in my life I would like to forget, but also need to celebrate.

We all have periods, I suppose, where circumstances have broken us.  I’m not going to get into that specific period in my life except to say it was years ago and during that time I received a gift from a good, older, wiser, friend from my theatre world.  Knowing that life (through my own choices, other people’s choices and some other circumstances) was handing me a platter of pain and garbage, she asked to meet for coffee.  We met, we hugged, and she handed me a silk-wrapped gift.  I opened it and found a beautiful Asian-crafted bowl (see photo).  Not a bowl to fill things with, but a beautiful, blue-glazed bowl to sit on a shelf…perhaps someday in Anderson, Indiana…to serve as a remembrance for me.

“I’m not going to tell you why I’m giving this, or why it is designed the way it is.  Part of your journey should be to search its meaning out…and it has one” she said.

“I will tell you this.  The form of this bowl is also a form of Japanese philosophy…it’s called ‘kintsugi’.” And with that, she changed the subject, sipped her chai latte, and spoke no more of it.  We chattered about other things.

I took the beautiful blue bowl with gold veins home and looked the word up.

The art (and philosophy) of “kintsugi” is to take cracked and broken pottery…even if it is pottery which had been used in a practical way (in fact, that’s even better) and instead of throwing away the pieces, they are glued back together with a lacquer mixed with powdered gold.

Why?  So that when seen or used again one would be reminded that breakage in our most vulnerable times leads to repairs that ARE not, and SHOULD not be, disguised as something ugly but signify something that is fully healed and stronger.  Kintsugi is a philosophy which has been around for over 600 years, and…

…this TRUTH in Japanese philosophy is TRUTH from God.

The Spirit reminds us that God does not cause disaster or difficulties.  And although one could argue that God may test us, even Jesus urges us to pray that His Father doesn’t test us.  Yet, difficult times come…to everyone (the BELIEVER & FOLLOWER and to the non-Believer) sometimes it’s a test, sometimes it’s just “life”.

What God DOES with those moments and seasons is “kintsugi”.

I’ve almost always referred to God as “the metaphysical Rumpelstiltskin” : He turns “straw” into “gold”, in partnership WITH us and FOR us (see ROMANS 8:28).

When I see that bowl my mind travels back to the time when both the bowl, and I, were broken.  Then I saw and touched the strength (and beauty) of the gold veining today.  I would not wish much of my own journey on anyone, but I would hope that everyone could end up where I am now.

My beautiful scars are now as much a part of me as anything and everything else, in fact they have come to define me.

The irony is not lost on me that in the Age-to-Come my new body will probably be without scars.  And the only person we meet in that New Heaven and New Earth bearing scars will be…

…Jesus.  His scars healed ours. 

In May, in the year 1889 (10 years prior to the construction of our current sanctuary, and the year construction began on my Brown-Delaware house) one of my “heroes” passed away.  His name is familiar enough that most American and British citizens would recognize it at once…and smile.  But let me tell you a little about him, before I tell you his name.

As a Quaker, he was genuine, as a businessman, successful…and as a philanthropist, generous.  As a Quaker, his beliefs didn’t allow him to enter a University or pursue a career in medicine or law…and a military career was obviously out of the question.  He turned to business and philanthropy.

His love of animals moved him to form THE ANIMALS FRIEND SOCIETY, which then become the ROYAL SOCIETY FOR THE PREVENTION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS; the fore-runner of the American branch of the same.

What most people know of this man has nothing to do with his service to animals.  He is, like all of us, multifaceted. Which reminds me once again…

…everyone has a story.  Everyone has influence far beyond their time in this place.  None of us can predict what effect we will have on others we may never see.  

And so we have a responsibility.  Jesus reminds us that every little thing we do, every smile, frown…every word (bad, good, flippant or thoughtful) matters.  The famous and rich are not any different than the unknown and poor in this way.  Each of us has a circle of influence; friends, family, acquaintances, enemies…and they have circles, and so on, and so on.  And GOD holds us responsible for the people He has placed around us. 

This is the miraculous way the world was created to work: when we follow through with our responsibilities to each other, WE are happier.  Jesus knows what He’s doing by connecting our love for each other with our love for Him and our own sense of well-being and joy.

ONE life influences MANY lives, AND we are on this earth for a short time.  Those two facts alone should remind us to enjoy every moment, by loving each other and by knowing that EVERYTHING we do will influence others. We are happy when we understand our reason for living.  

Being famous or well-known, or wealthy, seems to have no bearing on influence of quality.  After all, when was the last time your life was altered simply by holding a new-born, visiting someone in their last days, or simply being there?  You see, even in those times we have influence.

I’ll bet my “hero” DID have some inkling THE ANIMAL FRIEND SOCIETY would have far-reaching implications…but I doubt that he, also a proprietor of a small confection business in England, had any idea the emulsification process he developed to make solid chocolate (thus creating the modern chocolate bar) would make the name of John CADBURY, famous.

You see, we still cannot foresee what the future holds, or the choreography of the great dance that God sets in place; what we may think has influence on others may in fact pass quickly away.  That random smile, kindness, or worse, that harsh word or decision based on bad judgement, may reach beyond our lifetimes.

So, with that next CADBURY EGG, or chocolate bar, remember that our joy, our happiness, our full life, is dependent upon the little things that connect us to each other.  Every word out of our mouths, every action from our hearts, has the potential to last far beyond our passing…

…and has the power to change more lives than we could reach in our own lifetimes.

Jesus says it best, “let your light shine.” 

So, this upcoming Sunday is what I call, “FERN SUNDAY” (an unofficial observance of my own; the Sunday before Palm Sunday.) Now, I know it is also ST. PATRICK’S DAY, but this is not a “ST. PATRICK’S DAY” story…it’s simply another “colorful” event I remember from my strange life; something to bring a smile and maybe provoke a thought or two during these weird times.  It’s a story of rebellion, of “church politics” and the seed of tradition…and it is set during LENT.

When I was a Freshman and Sophomore in College, I had my first actual “church job” that didn’t involve my home church.  I was hired by a very wealthy congregation to be one of four section leader/soloists for their aging choir.  This was the first congregation I belonged to that was not the church of my family, nor was it the denomination I had grown up with.  It was a very enlightening (in a good way) experience for me, and my own formation as a Believer & Follower.

Being one of the few “young” people (read: anyone under 60) at this large and established congregation I gravitated to the other few who were close in age…one was another paid member of the choir, and one was his girlfriend who also attended.  We would gather after worship and chat/mock/chill in the mammoth, two-story, parlor behind the chancel area.

This church building was beautiful.  A former synagogue/temple, it had been “converted” to a Christian worship space with magnificent carvings, paintings, stained-glass windows, and an epic pipe organ.  The choir sat in the back balcony with the organist, and so could observe everything.  The worship was traditional to the extreme and well done, but a little stiff and stodgy.  The people were warm, gracious, and very, very thankful for any youngsters that were in attendance, so we always got lots of love and food.

The congregation eased into LENT, a church observance I had NEVER experienced, so I paid attention to every fascinating detail of the “traditional mainline protestant” observance.

First off, the sanctuary was always filled with the most impressively large floral decorations I had ever seen in a sanctuary.  The first Sunday I sang in worship I had assumed there had been a wedding in the sanctuary the Saturday before, there was SO MUCH “flora” tucked into every conceivable place…but no, I quickly found out there was a “flower lady” who took great care each Saturday to deck the sanctuary like the Garden of Eden.  She had a well-known floral shop and used her buying power to procure everything we saw.  I honestly don’t know if she donated or charged the church, but I DO know she was a “force to be reckoned with” as she was in the choir, and dictated which color stoles the choir wore on which Sunday.  She appeared to be the “Martha Stewart” of the congregation.

In any case, LENT arrived, suddenly and shockingly.  The sanctuary was stripped of greenery AND flowers.  I stood amazed at how large the sanctuary actually was when there wasn’t a forest taking up much of the space.  Dark purple decked the pulpit, the lectern, the windows, and the walls…but even with all of that, the place was “bare Lenten bones”.

The Flower Lady was not a fan of LENT.  She complained, starting on Ash Wednesday and continuing throughout the 40-day observance, about the “sad music”, the “dull sermons”, and especially the “lack of beauty” (read: “flowers”).  The “youngsters” (me, and the other chosen few) for whom this congregation was new, appreciated the humor of her, probably more than the saints who had been attending since the founding of America.  So, when she wasn’t amused, they weren’t either.

It seems that finally, on the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY, she’d had it.  We walked into the sanctuary (the choir was one of the first there each Sunday) to what looked like the bar at the local “Holiday Inn” (not that I ever was ever THERE, but I’d seen pictures): it was wood, brass and ferns, ferns, ferns…everywhere.

Yes, it seems, without permission, she had taken it upon herself to ease the congregation back into the woodland glade that was the usual setting for us in the sanctuary.  The fact there were suddenly ferns in the sanctuary did not sit well with the Minister, the Board, or the other woman, who understood fully how LENT may be ruined for everyone if it wasn’t “plain and bare” up to PALM SUNDAY.  It began what turned into a yearly struggle (so I’m told, since I moved to Seattle the next year…but kept in touch.)

Oh, I didn’t tell you another important fact…her name was, appropriately, “Fern”.

And so, for me at least, the Sunday before PALM SUNDAY has always been “FERN SUNDAY”.  Here at CCC we have (well, I have) carried on that tradition and placed ferns out, to make sure we’re not all too shocked to worship on PALM SUNDAY when the palms are put out.

I don’t advocate stirring up trouble in church, especially by stamping on people’s traditions (unless moved to do so by the Spirit).  I also don’t advocate one person’s tastes and traditions over the traditions and tastes of the “community” (unless you’re the Pastor, then you can do whatever you want…just kidding).  But what amazes me most about this story is…that I’m telling it.  We put out ferns each Sunday before PALM SUNDAY…and all because of a woman who wouldn’t remember me from Adam, if she is still alive, which I doubt.  But here I am, changed, calling the Sunday before Palm Sunday “Fern Sunday” because of her, and something she did.

It reminds me of the power all of us must affect the lives around us, for better or worse.  Every word we say, every action we take, is heard, and observed…and in some cases, is absorbed.  Words are power, actions speak louder than words, and people are still the greatest influencers of other people.

Fern only impressed this great story on me, her actions and words are not something I aspire to…and, in a way, she taught me how NOT to speak or behave around others. But there are many other people whose words may have been fewer, and actions smaller who have influenced me even more:

The sixth-grade kid who watched my fourth-grade play and told me I needed to be on stage – I remembered that. 

The shoe salesmen who sold me my first pair of “big boy” shoes and called me “tiger” – I remembered that. 

The first person who looked me in the eye and said, “I love you.” – I remembered that.

…and I will always remember the five people who greeted me that first Sunday I stepped through the doors of Central Christian Church in June of 2006.

I hope and pray that we will emerge from LENT with a renewed and greater appreciation of each other’s smile and voice.  As we learn what is truly important, I hope we hear the Scripture’s words about the effect we have on one another – through our words, our prayers, and our love. 

It’s possible that many have never heard of Herb & Dorothy Vogel.  Herb was a Postal Worker in Manhattan, and Dorothy a reference librarian in Brooklyn.  They were a quiet, cute couple (as described by friends) she was “bookish” and he “cuddly”.  They lived for 50 years in a 450-square-foot apartment in NYC, Herb never made any more than $23k-a-year.  And they never used any of his income to live off of…just hers, which was less…minimal.  They lived simply, ate TV Dinners, didn’t indulge in much except for some pets and one other hobby, which they were passionate about…art.

Herb had some training in Art History/Appreciation, as a young man, and introduced Dorothy to the art world (she was a theatre-music gal) on their honeymoon in Washington, DC (1962).  Through the years they slowly, carefully bought art they loved.  They were not investors nor art dealers, they simply found pieces they both enjoyed and made sure that they purchased them at a “good price”.  Along the way they made friends with several of the artists from whom they purchased: twentieth century painters in need of money…for the most part…thus, the “good deals”.  They only purchased things that they would want up on their walls and could transport them on the subway.  They also went about their hobby with a plan, they educated themselves along the way, they enjoyed their friendships with the artists…and continued to live quiet, frugal, unassuming lives.

It was in the ‘80’s that they realized their lifelong passion of collecting could not be housed in their apartment…so they decided to donate.  Herb had already retired, and when Dorothy retired in 1990 they gave their collection to the National Gallery (strikingly, where Herb had first introduced Dorothy to art appreciation) because the gallery was free to the public and has a policy against “deaccessioning”, meaning their art would never be sold.

Workers from the National Gallery came to NYC and unloaded an unbelievable 2400 works from the Vogel apartment in 5 40-foot trucks.  When the gallery realized that the Vogels had not invested, they paid the Vogels an annuity as a “thank you” for their donation…which the Vogels promptly used to purchase more art…they couldn’t help it, it was their passion.

“If we wanted to make money, we would have invested in the stock market.” said Dorothy.

Their collection is now considered to be the most important collection of 20-century art in the United States…and what the curator of the National Gallery calls, irreplaceable and priceless.

I found this story incredible on many levels, as an artist and a Believer.

The VOGELS followed their God-given passion.  Although I know nothing of their spiritual lives except that they were/are by ethnicity, Jewish.  Their story shows that God gave them a passion that they followed…against the odds.  They were not the “type” of people others in the world might view as “art collectors” …they didn’t care.  They did what they believed in and let others think what they would.

The VOGELS made a plan and worked the plan.  They didn’t just jump in “willy-nilly”. They educated themselves in their passion.  They methodically, economically, and prudently enjoyed the fruit of their love of art.  So many Believers/Followers seem to think that God does NOT work hand-in-hand with our minds and heart…that once a passion (a sermon idea, a song, a project) is planted by Him in our hearts that we then just sit back and listen to His instructions and become robots to His suggestions…which is not evident in ANY place in the scripture or ANY life illustration we see today.  God implants a vision/passion and asks us to partner with Him, to hone our skills, to learn and use our brains to polish and construct what He has given us.

The VOGELS left a legacy of beauty…even though THAT was not necessarily a part of THEIR plan.  In the end they were they shocked to hear that their small apartment housed the greatest gift of 20^th-Century art anywhere in the United States…that will be enjoyed by millions for years to come?  Did they understand that their belief in artists who were NOT getting the attention of critics at the time, inspired those artists to more greatness?  Did they write that down as part of their methodical plan…no.  But God-given passion* (*and love of things beautiful, good, and true ALWAYS comes from God to the Believer and the Non-Believer alike…God does NOT discriminate) is like all energy, power that does not dissipate.

The Kingdom Principle of a seed becoming a tree is evident in this story as well.

What does this mean for me?  It reminds me to: Follow my God-Given passion, use my God-given mind to carve and polish, and know that love of what is good, beautiful, and true is never wasted once I’m gone.

Then I heard a voice from heaven saying,
“Write: The dead who die in the Lord from now on are blessed.”
“Yes,” says the Spirit, “let them rest from their labors, for their works follow them!”
REVELATION 14:13 

Last week while driving through East Central Indiana into Ohio, I was struck by the barrenness of the landscape. Not only were the trees sporting leafless limbs and the fields still showing the brown stubs of last year’s soybean and corn harvests, but the yards of the homes along our route were starkly lacking the vibrant colors of growing and flowering fauna. Only a few evergreen trees and shrubs dared to show a contrast to their otherwise unappealing, brownish surroundings. Even livestock in pastures were munching on beige-colored dried grass (hay).

However, I saw signs. Only two farmers were riding tractors, harrowing the moist soil, and revealing the promising dark brown fresh soil awaiting the seeds of this year’s crop. And, incredibly, a handful of fields revealed the peeping greenness of winter wheat growing in long, straight rows. But the near freezing temperatures and the gray skies dared me to hope that these signs would not be an aberration to a coming spring.

Barrenness. And promise.

In the mountains of North Carolina, I have fond memories of driving by the blue waters of the small Lake Junaluska located near Waynesville, NC. A Methodist Retreat Center, homes for retired ministers, and other residences line the hillside streets in which there is a view of the reflective waters of the Lake in which sunrises and sunsets could be seen in its breath-taking hues. But on Facebook this morning, I saw a drone photo of a drained, and empty Lake Junaluska. Creeping through the middle of the basin was a narrow creek that had been dammed to create the Lake. The reason for draining the Lake? Over the long years, the Lake had become filled with silt that had been carried into the Lake by heavy rainfalls that washed soil from nearby hillside fields. Consequently, the shallower the Lake depth, the less it could support game fish, or provide food for migrating geese, or permit safe boating. This photo was one of barrenness, with sharp outlines of the old shoreline. Come spring, heavy equipment will dig and haul the silt away.

So with barrenness, there remains promise, hope.

The Bible speaks of barrenness. Sarah, Abraham’s wife, was barren, that is, without child, until she had lived long beyond the age to bear children. The promise of God that she would bear a child kept hope alive and brought joy at its fulfillment with the birth of Isaac.

The scriptures also tell us of barrenness due to drought, and barrenness of fishermen who labored all night without catching fish. And in a way, there are passages that portray the poor as barren of necessities, and in need of the generosity of others.

As always, barrenness is met with sheer hope that is sometimes, if not often, fulfilled; and barrenness is often met with the ministry of other people. Either way, God never abandons nor forsakes. Even if death comes in barrenness, God gives what God can only give to His own people, that is the abundant life (zoe) forever…filled with love and joy.

Barrenness. If the truth be told, daily news is mostly about barrenness or approaching barrenness. What else is new? Even the prophets spoke of a barrenness that would befall sinful people. Those in Babylonian exile suffered a great barrenness, feeling cut off from both their native land and their God. At the time that Jesus was born, a great barrenness had arisen in the land because of Greek and Roman rule AND because of a blind spirituality among the people, including many religious leaders.

And in this season of LENT we wrestle with our barrenness. It is not what we give up for Lent that is our priority, rather our priority is to become acutely self-aware and congregationally self-aware of our barrenness….and our need for a hope that raises us up from this barrenness. Only with a keen sense of barrenness can we exclaim with joy on Easter Sunday morning that “Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead.” Jesus did not arise on his own; God raised Him from the deepest depths of barrenness…and to be raised from the depths of our barrenness is our hope, our promise, our joy, our true value before God.

The lyrics to “IT’S ONLY A PAPER MOON” always remind me of when I was a child, I was fascinated by theatrical productions not because of the performances, but because of the sets.  The first time, when I was very young, that I walked backstage and saw the visual tricks used to make the audience believe what they were seeing was real…while knowing it was not. Now, more than ever, and after several years in professional and community theatre, I am fascinated by the craft of theatrical scenic design and execution.

I am currently in the middle of another show, this time my own script and music. Although this show doesn’t have much of a set (other than the beautiful setting of THE ANDERSON MUSEUM OF ART) I am still amazed by the art of “set design” and construction.

To sit in an audience and KNOW, in your mind, that the space you are looking at is simply a box open to the audience, but what you see is a lavish, marble-paneled palace interior, or a forest, or a village green…that kind of “suspension of belief” is a skill and somewhat mysterious gift given to designers who often need to be engineers of sorts as well. The process of making one thing look like another and putting the audience in a frame of mind, sucking them into the story, is still a wonderful experience for me.

When one takes a trip backstage to see the “magic” revealed, the experience can be, as it is for me and some others, an even more fascinating time.  However, for others, the magic is gone once they realize that what they see is not the truth: that brick wall is a façade of a quarter-inch plastic…that tree is made of papier-mâché, as are the solid-looking-weather-worn stones.  The sky?  Material with blue light on it…and the stars, merely electronics.

The  papier-mâché tree wouldn’t stand light rain, much less a storm.  The house has only three sides and is made of cardboard, some would, some paint…no one in their right mind would want to LIVE there.  The stones wouldn’t support a small animal, much less be shelter or foundation for more building.  The set is only a reproduction and real only to the audience…and much of that is in their own minds.

INTEGRITY.  The word describes what is incorruptible, sound and complete.  Integrity is something that truly is, on the inside, what it appears to be on the outside.  If it looks like a tree or a stone, or a brick wall, on the outside…INTEGRITY demands that it BE a tree, or stone, or brick wall on the inside.

A related word, INTEGRAL, suggests completeness, wholeness, and trueness.  It’s root from a practice, in Roman days, of filling in the cracks of poorly made, or not so fine, marble columns with wax so that they would appear more perfect (more “integral”).  Of course, later, the hot sun would melt the wax and the buyer would realize that the “good deal on columns” was a bad deal for his house.

Are you what you appear to be?  Do all of us present an “audience side” to those we want to please or “perform for”?  Sometimes we do.  Being “nice” is not what being a Believer & Follower is all about…being “good” is.  Nice is “façade”, put on for some, but not for others. “Good” implies that at our core we have the Spirit of God burning as a furnace and warming from the inside out.  The scripture warns us that a façade will not stand the test of life…eventually what is TRULY in our hearts will come through.  The papier-mâché of our own stage set will wear quickly away…and if there is nothing but chicken wire and cardboard behind it, our friends will know…worse, we will not have the strength to merely walk through life.

 Let’s build from the inside out…start with a good designer, our Heavenly Father.