The Journey of Homage

The Journey of Homage is an outreach project where we collect items to make up Christmas gifts for the homeless and needy of a nearby city and then hit the streets, giving the gifts to the people we find there. It really is just that simple. This year I am collecting new—well, let me stop there for a second to explain.

We collect new items because, well, would you want to receive a second-hand Christmas gift? I mean, you can call it "gently used" as much as you like, but if you were to get it as your only Christmas gift this year, wouldn't you feel bad, knowing that folk thought you weren't good enough for something new?

Where was I? Oh yes, this year I am collecting new warm winter hats, durable winter gloves, simple tube socks—but wait, let me explain.

I'm trying to collect this clothing in men's sizes and colors because my contact in the city tells me that most of the people we're going to find are men. The same contact has reminded me that the homeless do not have any way of washing their clothes, especially in the winter, so any socks they receive get warn until they're just too disgusting to have on anymore—at which point they must be thrown away. So simple tube socks are the best.

Where was I? Oh yes, this year I am collecting new warm winter hats, durable winter gloves, simple tube socks, $5 gift cards to Dunkin' Donuts—

Why only $5? Because the cards are not so much about feeding the folk as it is about getting them off the street into someplace warm for a while. If you look like you're homeless and you sit down in a Dunkin' Donuts to warm up, you'll probably be asked to leave. But if you walk in and buy a cup of coffee, sit down and nurse it for a while... then you're a customer. A real live, not freezing to death on the street customer! And why Dunkin' Donuts? Because my contact in the city tells me that there are several near where the folk are likely to be. Fast food restaurants would work just as well if they didn't have to walk across the city to get to them!

Where was I? Oh yes, this year I am collecting new warm winter hats, durable winter gloves, simple tube socks, $5 gift cards to Dunkin' Donuts, and Christmas gift bags large enough to hold one of each item!

"That's all very good, Rev. Josh" I imagine you saying to your computer screen, "but why is it called The Journey of Homage?" I'm glad you asked! First of all, "homage" isn't much used any more, I know. Just follow the link in that last sentence for a dictionary definition. But here's an example of the word used in a sentence:

On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Matthew 2:11

One of the reasons we give gifts in this season is because these Magi or Wise Men gave these gifts of homage to Jesus. So in what way is this outreach project a journey of homage like that of the Magi? Well, scripture also says:

Then the righteous will answer him, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' And the king will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'

Matthew 25:37-40

For the whole story, check out Matthew 25:31-46. But you get the point, don't you? According to the Gospel, the way to give homage to Jesus is to pay homage to the least of those among us.

Even though I happily take credit for bringing the Journey of Homage to each of the churches I serve, I must give credit where credit is due. The real mastermind, the person who had the idea and immediately acted on it, was one of my classmates at Andover Newton Theological School, Preston. It's been a few years, but the way I remember it, it went something like this: One year, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Preston and his wife rode the T out of Boston back to Newton after doing some Christmas shopping. And they discussed the homeless woman they'd seen pan-handling in the T station. And they agreed that it would be nice if they could give her a useful Christmas present. So they spoke with everyone they could manage and they collected new hats, gloves, socks, and gift certificates to fast food restaurants and packed them into nice gift bags. Then they got as many folk as they could and took the gifts into Boston and hit the streets, giving them to the homeless folk wherever they could be found.

I was one of those people, and one of the ways we found enough hands to give out presents was to bring our youth groups with us. We found a man standing outside of Macy's with a dixie cup and an illegible sign crafted from the bottom of a cardboard box and a dead magic marker. I watched people loaded down with their Christmas shopping pass by him without pause or eye contact as two of our youth approached him with a gift. They said, "Hi, we're from 2nd Congregational Church of Newton, and we'd like you to have this. Merry Christmas!" and then they started to leave. But the man said, "Girls, wait!" and he bent down to lift up his pant leg. And I could see from where I was standing that his leg was a road-map of scarring. He said, "I got that in Vietnam. And I always knew that I must have been fighting for something. But until now, I didn't know what it was."

'Nuff said.
Rev. Josh
112009

Urban Legends

I just caught myself almost getting taken in by an urban legend brought to my attention through the wonders of Facebook. Now, don't get me wrong, I think that e-mail is a wonderful tool when used correctly. I believe that social networking sites like Facebook are a wonderful tool when used correctly. However, I have also seen otherwise intelligent and discerning folk take at face value information coming to them through Facebook in the form of polls to take and groups/causes to join.

The one that almost caught me was a poll asking "Is he a christian????" The underlying text reads:

Your friend voted "No" in the President Obama says that they will have a Holiday Tree this year instead of a Christmas Tree. Do you agree with this? Poll!

What do you say? 381,865 people have already voted!

President Obama says that they will have a Holiday Tree this year instead of a Christmas Tree. Do you agree with this?
Yes
No
Maybe

I immediately started to comment on the item, because in my opinion it would depend on which tree and in what capacity President Obama was speaking. After all, the separation of church and state is what allows the freedom of religious expression that we all enjoy—and is a large reason why we can question the religiosity of the President of the United States with impunity! But before I posted my comment I thought, "Wait, I wonder if it's even true...?" So I did a Google search for "Obama Holiday Tree" and found... not one news item. What I did find was an article at FactCheck.org entitled "Holiday Tree" Hooey. I'd never heard of FactCheck.org, so I went flying over to Snopes.com where I found a similar article.

So, just for the record... President Obama has not changed the name of any of the traditional Christmas trees in Washington D.C. The claim is an urban legend at best and an unsubstantiated and malicious attempt to smear the President of the United States at worst.

But on a larger level, no matter where you stand on issues of the separation of church and state or the current president or whatever it is today, we all have a responsibility to not spread disinformation and falsehood. Please pause for a moment before hitting "Forward" on that e-mail, or taking that poll, or joining that group/cause. Do a Google search. Run over to my sidebar and click on FactCheck.org or Snopes.com and see if it's true first.

That way, you won't waste your precious time and energy in needless arguments. And you won't be an unwitting agent in spreading information that is simply and categorically false!

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
111209

Food Fight!!!

The last time I had the opportunity to preach, it was World Communion Sunday, and I made sure to make some points about why it is that the eminent Sacrament revolves around eating and drinking. If you go back and look at the gospels as a whole, Jesus does a lot of his ministry around food. And there's simply something special about breaking bread together that helps form relationships. It's not by chance that I chose to go out for pizza with the Senior High Youth for a get-to-know-you event. It's not surprising that a central piece of my weekly staff meeting is who's turn it is to buy Dunkin' Donuts for the group—I really do enjoy their pumpkin muffins... mmm... Where was I? Ah yes, food.

I can't help but notice that there are a lot of folk in the church I now serve who have been reaching out to me with food. And that's good! Food is good, but just like all good things, there are ways for it to go badly. I myself used to eat poorly and exercise irregularly (if at all) and my weight and health reflected that. Luckily, a dear friend turned me on to Weight Watchers, or rather to their method of keeping track of what I eat. I haven't gone to any of their support meetings, and the information I used was handed down to me.

My point is that I lost a significant amount of weight in a controlled and healthy way—and I am still keeping track of what I eat in order to maintain my current, healthy weight. Basically I have an allotment of Weight Watchers points (I usually eat 6 for breakfast and 8 for lunch and dinner) and then four meals where I can eat whatever I want. Which is good, because I hate to turn down gifts of food. One of these days, though, somebody is going to try to hand me one of those tasty pumpkin muffins and I'm not going to have the 14 points to spare.

You read that right. Fourteen. Calculate it yourself if don't believe me.

Now, I need you all to believe me when I say that I'm aware of the huge issues many people have with healthy eating. One of my favorite people has struggled with an eating disorder—and even though I haven't heard about it just lately, I suspect that she struggles still. If you want or need to know more about eating disorders and what to do about them, please go to the Mayo Clinic and/or The Nemours Foundation site as soon as possible. Both of those websites seem to be pretty good places to go for health information—but if your experience isn't the same as mine, I hope you'll tell me!

So if you happen to be the person I have to turn down food from, please forgive me!

Your body is a temple, so be good to it.
And be good to each other!
Rev. Josh
110609

High Expectations

For those of you who don't know, I found a place to be! I am the new Associate Minister for Youth for a small UCC congregation in the Connecticut Conference.

My new position is both exciting and terrifying—as it should be! I'm primarily responsible for the youth ministry of the church I'm serving. But more than that, I'm expected to expand and grow that youth ministry into something bigger! Bigger in numbers of youth involved, bigger in ecumenical and even interfaith terms! I wonder how I am going to do some of what I'm expected to one day accomplish here without violating the separation of church and state...

Anyway, I'd hoped to have the blog all updated and shiny and new looking right when I came into this new position, but very quickly other tasks rose to the top of my "to do" list. So instead I've been here just long enough to fall down once or twice. But what else is new? I'm human. I make mistakes. I hope that what matters is that I apologize up front and learn from my mistakes as I go.

In all honesty, I'd rather make mistakes and learn something new than do everything perfect the first time and never learn anything. And I hope the world can cut me some slack when I do.

I promise to do the same for the world.

Be good to each other!
Rev. Josh
102709

Let Me Explain...

...no, there is too much, let me sum up.

I spoke about tying up loose ends in my previous post. Well, ends have been tied and my days of serving that particular church as its associate pastor have ended. My last Sunday was a very emotional one—especially because of all the beautiful things that people had to say. It has occurred to me that I may have the only copies of some of those things, and that other folk might want to read them—so even though my humble nature screams out in protest, I'll post them here.

SENTENCES FOR REVEREND JOSH SANDER UPON HIS LEAVING OUR CHURCH



For the generous and joyful spirit, which you’ve shown us, we thank you.

As we are all God’s children, you have called out to the child-like and the childish to join you: we thank you for your light.

For the contagiousness of songs sung at Silver Lake, brought into the sanctuary, we thank you for lifting our spirits in a new and joyful song.

For bringing cymbal, guitar and video into worship, you have shown us a new way to conduct ourselves and to keep ourselves alive! At five! Thank you for this new life-style.

For worship through stories, myths, fables and rock lyrics, we have tried to look at God’s work in different ways.

We see a striving and hope with the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, for freedom from oppression. You have lead us into Narnia with Prince Caspian to seek justice.

For those who have had ears to listen, and eyes to see the myth-reality of the world gone mad of C.S. Lewis, we thank you for our sojourn into fantasy. It has quickened our spirits and enriched our souls.

For Dragon Pastor’s Hyperdrive, for poetry and video and bloggy sights and sounds, we thank you for your wit, your resourcefulness, your love of whimsey and your loving kindness for all people. For little people, for big people, for young people, for old people and shut-ins, for [oh my gosh! Teenagers! Aaargh!], we thank you for your love of gays and lesbians, for handicapped and autistic, for under-privileged and even the over-indulged. You have been a blessing to us.

You have led us on a journey, and not just on Christmas and to homage, but on a journey in earnest to love one another as Christ loves us.

Do we need a labyrinth to remind us of our lives of prayer and reflective meditation? The convoluted lives we lead and the myriad thoughts we have cannot match the wonder of your thoughtfulness. From insecurity and unsure footing and jump-starts of your ministry, we have seen you weave a tapestry, a rubric of relationships that rival any labyrinth of thought and reflective deed, so that your sermons have grown stronger, your voice has grown in confidence and your faith, certainly has expanded and matured. And oh, yes, we shall remember to be good to one another, as you have told us to be many times.

Thank you, Josh.

Poem for Josh
The love that is in you,
Transferred like communion to the heart
I take
While God's in everything and everything's in you

I have thoughts of you
Still wandering the high school halls
And church aisles.
Your feet have never failed you
they brought you through and past any terror
They brought you here.

Yet, with your faith
You've taken all of us on a trip
You brought us through and past any terror
A congregation's mirror
There's so much beauty and change shining through.
With grateful souls, we thank you.

God's in everything and everything's in you
Be good to each other
Rev. Josh
051309

Tear in Your Hand

So yeah, I've been tying up loose ends and carefully packing up my life here because my position at the church here has been cut. I've been so busy trying to do the all the right and important things as I get ready to leave, that I hardly remembered that I got to have a birthday this year.

So it was very nearly a surprise when one of my favorite people came through the line after church last Sunday and handed me a card.
"Happy birthday, Josh!" she beamed at me.
"Oh!" I said, a little surpised as I took the card, "Thank you!"
"Open it!!" she insisted. So I carefully opened the card, in case something should fall out of it. Nothing did. I read the pre-printed text of the card first, a generic "happy birthday" kind of sentiment. I could feel her continue to beam as I read the handwritten note.

Happy Birthday, Josh
Neil Gaimen

I did a double-take, surprised and overjoyed as she laughed aloud—delighted, both of us. A few days later, she sent me a message via Facebook with a description from her personal journal of her trip into the city to meet Neil and get some things signed.

"Hi Neil!"
He gave me a huge smile, the biggest cresent moon without teeth but open like we were friends in the past. I don't remember the order of the things he signed, but here are my immediate notes. "My name's Elizabeth"
He looked down at Fragile Things,
Elizabeth, lovely name. With an s or a zed"
"A zed"
"I love your books, I'm sure you hear that all the time." I could see the tips of his smile through out the sinage and it made me truly joyful to see him smile because of what I'm saying, and he's listening. When he spoke to me, it was slow and I didn't feel rushed at all.
"When I would read your stuff and listen to Tori in highschool, I thought 'oh my gosh, there are still lovely and decent people in the world.'
"Tori is lovely, I am the latter" he said with self depricating smile.
When I showed him the poster:
He did a little gasp and said, "oh, that's Tori"
"Those are my favorite"
He asked me where to sign, I said anywhere
"I'm going to use the red pen and as he pointed to the place, right here."
When given Josh's card:
I said, "He introduced me to you and Tori. It's his birthday on Tuesday. It a pity because he's getting laid off. It really hurts."

I was really struck by her words, well, first of all just because I like her writing—then because I think I knew that I'd introduced her to Tori's music but I hadn't quite known that I'd introduced her to both Tori and Neil's work. Then I was struck by how something so inconsequential turned out not to be. I had no idea that the simple act of identifying some of my favorite music, some of my favorite writing, would lead to the thought, "Oh my gosh, there are still lovely and decent people in the world." Then, finally—though certainly not least—I was struck by the very simple and honest reaction to my current situation. It is a pity that I cannot continue as pastor of this church. And it does really hurt.

But as I'm writing this, my iPod is playing "Dare! Dare to believe you can survive! You hold the future in your hand. Dare! Dare to keep all your dreams alive..." I truly believe that God talks to us through music and literature and film and art in general. Keep your ears and your hearts open, dear and faithful readers, because you never know when something new to you might make you think, "Oh my gosh, there are still lovely and decent people in the world."

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
031309

Song lyrics | Goodnight lyrics

Oh no! Skynet!

I can't remember if I've said it here in the ol' blog, because I've said it so many times in so many other places, but I'm of the generation that computers grew up with me. I will always remember playing games like Where in the World Is Carmen Sandiego and The Oregon Trail on both my family's Apple IIe and the Apple IIgs at school! That's right, back when floppy disks were actually floppy—and existed. You and your new-fangled CD-RWs! Hey, you kids! Get off my lawn!

Where was I? Oh yeah. I clearly remember when movies like The Terminator were the new, cool thing. The Terminator—as well as any number of other, less well-known films in the 80's—had the unifying theme of a fear of technology taking over. I also clearly remember this counter argument from the film Short Circuit, when Steve Gutenberg's charcter waxes poetic about a robot, saying "It doesn't get happy, it doesn't get sad, it doesn't laugh at your jokes, it just runs programs!"

Now it's true that computers can play chess and that robots can construct automobiles, but they can't do those things without being programmed by a human being to do them. It is also true that some truly wonderful music has been created primarily through electronic means. It is most definately true that some of the most brilliant and moving animated films of the last decade have been created through the use of computer animation. However, the heart and soul of music and storytelling/filmmaking still comes from the talented human people who utilize these tools.

And that's ultimately the point I'm trying to make. Computers are a tool. Your iPod is a tool. E-mail is a tool. As are Facebook, MySpace, AIM, and your cell phone. These tools can be misused, just like any other tool. You can keep a candle upright in that candlestick, or you can murder your neighbor with it. The candlestick, in and of itself, lies blameless in both counts. It's what you do with it that matters.

So, I was interested to see the following post on Neil Gaiman's blog. He writes:

Just a quick one, as a follow-up to http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/02/quick-argument-summary.html and http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2009/02/zoom-zzzzoom.html.


Right.

1) go and read Wil Wheaton's post http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/wwdnbackup/2009/02/wil-wheaton-vs-text-2-speech.html

2) Listen, actually listen to Wil and "Alex" reading at http://wilwheaton.typepad.com/files/wil_wheaton_vs_text_2_speech.mp3

3) Now imagine a world in which someone sits with a novel on the screen and carefully codes every character and tone of voice, every emotion. Imagine the time involved, and the effort involved in making something that, no matter how good it ever gets, will not be as good as a person reading it. This isn't teaching a computer to play chess.

An audio book, read by someone who's good at it, is an audio book, an experience that's different to, sometimes complementary to, the words on the page. A computer reading to you is a computer reading to you. And at the point where they can read books to us as well as we can read them aloud to each other, we will have other things to worry about.

Which—I think—is right on. But more telling is the response that Neil received to his orginal post:

I'm glad to know that you support the Kindle text to speech capability. As a C-4 quadriplegic due to a spinal cord injury a few years ago recent improvements in technology allow me the independence to write this e-mail with assistance only from my computer, software and a microphone. However the technology is still young, clunky and not without drawbacks. (It will probably take longer to "write" this short e-mail than it did to listen to my friend read me the first chapter of Coraline!) (Don't ask how long it took me to write the word Coraline either-twice even!) Because there isn't big money for marketing products for para and quads we have to rely on technology progressing just for the sake of technology progressing. I think it would be silly and sad to slow improvments just because of money issues. Thanks for supporting technology and hope to see you at comic-con. -Brook McCall

As Stan Lee would say, "'Nuff said."

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
022709

PS Do go to Wil Wheaton's Blog and check out the MP3 of "wil wheaton vs. text 2 speech" It's pretty telling.

The Labyrinth

If you're expecting me to wax poetic about a
movie from my childhood featuring David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly, then you are—well, actually, that does sound a lot like me, doesn't it? After all, Jim Henson is my hero. But that's not what I have in mind this morning.

What I have in mind is most famously exemplified in Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Chartres. It isn't a maze, like you find in the Jim Henson film, because there are no dead ends. It has only one path, so you can't get lost. Which may lead you to ask me, "What is the point of the thing?" Well, I'll tell you: walking this kind of labyrinth is a spiritual practice.

How so? Well, the winding path is a metaphor for your life's journey. Much like the point I made in an earlier post, as long as you keep carefully moving forward, eventually you'll get to the center. There are going to be twists along the way, so you'll have to be paying close attention in order to stay on the path. There are going to be times that the goal is tantilizingly close, only to recede again, but don't be discouraged—keep going and you'll make it.

I have had the opportunity to walk labyrinths in the past, and I wish I had a full-sized one to utilize on a regular basis. I do, however, have a minature version that was given to me as a present from a very dear friend. Instead of walking the path, I trace it out with the included stylus. Whether I'm walking a full-sized one, or simply tracing the path out on my pewter one, I find that it helps me clear my mind and open myself to hearing whatever it is that God may be trying to say to me. If I have a problem, or a difficult decision, going through the labyrinth often helps me find the proper perspective. And if I enter the labyrinth anxious or upset it forces me to slow down—and by the time I come back out of the labyrinth I am calm once more.

And knowing all of this is all well and good, but no use to you if you don't have access to a labyrinth of your own. Well, not to worry! You don't need a fancy pewter one—although mine is very nice. You can certainly live without a full-sized one—although I wish I had one I could use. I've found that simply having the pattern printed out on a piece of paper does the trick, so here's a pdf file diagram of the Chartres labyrinth for you to use at your leisure!

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
022509

PS Here's a video about walking the labyrinth!

Fat Sunday

Ever since Katrina, the church I serve has been putting on a top-notch
celebratory jazz service for worship the Sunday before Lent starts. We take a special collection for Gulf Coast relief—and yes, there is still need, even after all this time.

This year, for the sermon, I found some poetry by James Weldon Johnson. I read two of them, with a little explanation of my own wedged between, while Dr. Joe did some awesome jazz piano stuff underneath—he even managed to work in the tunes of all the spirituals mentioned in the second poem. I wish I had his music for you to listen to while you read these, but... I guess we'll just have to settle for the words.

Listen, Lord—A Prayer

O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before thy throne of grace.
O Lord—this morning—
Bow our hearts beneath our knees,
And our knees in some lonesome valley.
We come this morning—
Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,
With no merits of our own.
O Lord—open up a window of heaven,
And lean out far over the battlements of glory,
And listen this morning.

Lord, have mercy on proud and dying sinners—
Sinners hanging over the mouth of hell,
Who seem to love their distance well.
Lord—ride by this morning—
Mount your milk-white horse,
And ride-a this morning—
And in your ride, ride by old hell,
Ride by the dingy gates of hell,
And stop poor sinners in their headlong plunge.

And now, O Lord, this man of God,
Who breaks the bread of life this morning—
Shadow him in the hollow of thy hand,
And keep him out of the gunshot of the devil.
Take him, Lord—this morning—
Wash him with hyssop inside and out,
Hang him up and drain him dry of sin.
Pin his ear to the wisdom-post,
And make his words sledge hammers of truth—
Beating on the iron heart of sin.

Lord God, this morning—
Put his eye to the telescope of eternity,
And let him look upon the paper walls of time.
Lord, turpentine his imagination,
Put perpetual motion in his arms,
Fill him full of the dynamite of thy power,
Anoint him all over with the oil of thy salvation,
And set his tongue on fire.

And now, O Lord—
When I’ve done drunk my last cup of sorrow—
When I’ve been called everything but a child of God—
When I’m done traveling up the rough side of the mountain—
O—Mary’s Baby—
When I start down the steep and slippery steps of death—
When this old world begins to rock beneath my feet—
Lower me to my dusty grave in peace
To wait for that great gittin’ up morning—Amen.

James Weldon Johnson

James Johnson was an African American author, politician, diplomat, critic, journalist, poet, anthologist, educator, lawyer, songwriter, early civil rights activist, and prominent figure in the Harlem Renaissance. He was one of the first African-American professors at New York University and later in life he was a professor of creative literature and writing at Fisk. James Johnson was born in 1971 and died in 1938 and so he would have been in his 20s during the early days of Jazz. As you hear this next poem, I want you to think about his ancestors, only a generation before, toiling in the fields under their harsh masters. I want you to ask yourself how they continued on in the face of backbreaking labor and little hope of freedom. And I want you to answer yourself, “With the help of God.”

O Black and Unknown Bards

O black and unknown bards of long ago,
How came your lips to touch the sacred fire?
How, in your darkness, did you come to know
The power and beauty of the minstrel’s lyre?
Who first from midst his bonds lifted his eyes?
Who first from out the still watch, lone and long,
Feeling the ancient faith of prophets rise
Within his dark-kept soul, burst into song?

Heart of what slave poured out such melody
As “Steal away to Jesus”? On its strains
His spirit must have nightly floated free,
Though still about his hands he felt his chains.
Who heard great “Jordan roll”? Whose starward eye
Saw chariot “swing low”? And who was he
That breathed that comforting, melodic sigh,
“Nobody knows de trouble I see”?

What merely captive thing,
Could up toward God through all its darkness grope,
And find within its deadened heart to sing
These songs of sorrow, love and faith, and hope?
How did it catch that subtle undertone,
That not in music heard not with the ears?
How sound the elusive reed so seldom blown,
Which stirs the soul or melts the heart to tears.

Not that great German master in his dream
Of harmonies that thundered amongst the stars
At the creation, ever heard a theme
Nobler than “God down, Moses.” Mark its bars
How like a mighty trumpet-call they stir
The blood. Such are the notes that men have sung
Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were
That helped make history when Time was young.

There is a wide, wide wonder in it all,
That from degraded rest and servile toil
The fiery spirit of the seer should call
These simple children of the sun and soil.
O black slave singers, gone, forgot, unfamed,
You—you alone, of all the long, long line
Of those who’ve sung untaught, unknown, unnamed,
Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine.

You sang not deeds of heroes or of kings;
No chant of bloody war, no exulting paean
Of arms-won triumphs; but your humble strings
You touched in chord with music empyrean
You sang far better than you knew; the songs
That for your listeners’ hungry hearts sufficed
Still live,--but more than this to you belongs:
You sang a race from wood and stone to Christ.

James Weldon Johnson

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
022409

Breaks My Heart

I don't usually post twice in one day like this, but I just received an e-mail containing the video below from our beloved (and very out) organist here at the church I serve...


"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

I am still wiping away tears as I type this. I have already said publically, and I shall do so again here and now, that when you talk about "gay marriage" you're talking about my co-workers, my friends, neighbors and loved ones. You are talking about people I know and love. Dearly. I try not to get political in this blog, but I have to say this much at least. From where I stand, if the definition of "marriage" is a legal issue, then every couple must be given the same liberties, rights, and responsibilities under both Federal and State Law or else we are dealing with a Civil Rights issue. If the definition of "marriage" is a religious issue, then the government is required to get out of it or else we are violating the Separation of Church and State. So whether or not your theology allows you to embrace LGBT folk as loved and accepted by God just the way they are, this Proposition is just wrong.

You don't have to agree with me, but you do need to
Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
022009

Sportsmen

Competitive sports, especially professional ones, have grated on me for years. I'll freely admit that part of that has to do with my trying on just about everything I could growing up, baseball, basketball... the usual suspects—and I discovered that sports just weren't where my talents lie. More than that, though, I think that all my experiences of poor sportsmenship—both personally and in the media—soured my joy for what is, at its heart, a game. I've simply had a difficult time connecting to something that produces bullpen assaults, basketball brawls, and killer hockey dads.


However, the recent fantastic sportsmanship and attitudes of blown out Dallas Acadamy team helped me begin to see why people love sports once more. And the story of the Barbs playing a non-conference game on the road against Milwaukee Madison has helped me restore my faith in sport-loving humanity even further!

The two high schools were developing the kind of friendly rivalry that begins with really close games on the court and ends with sodas and pizza together off the court. But this game, their third, almost didn't happen at all. You see, late that afternoon, Milwaukee Madison senior captain Johntel Franklin was at the hospital when the decision was made to turn off the life-support system for his mother, Carlitha Franklin. She died just hours before the game. It was young Franklin who countermanded Coach Aaron Womack Jr's decision to cancel the game, saying that he wanted them to play.

It was early in the second quarter and the game was already very close when Womack spotted Franklin in the stands. He immediately called a time out and Womack and his team went up into the stands and hugged their grieving teammate.

"We got back to playing the game and I asked if he wanted to come and sit on the bench," Womack said during a telephone interview.

"No," Franklin replied. "I want to play."

Since Franklin's name hadn't made it on to the pre-game roster, putting him in would mean committing a technical foul, but Womack felt that letting the grieving young man play was more important than winning a close game so he chose to take the foul. Despite the closeness of the game, Coach Dave Rohlman did not want his team to take advantage of the technical foul. He reluctantly called for a volunteer to take two free throws after the referees made it clear that he could not wave them.

Darius McNeal raised his hand, and after Rohlman asked him a single question he simply nodded his head and went out to the foul line.

His first attempt made it about two feet.

His second barely left his hand.

The Milwaukee team stood as one, turned toward the Barbs bench and applauded their sportsmanship—the crowd followed suit.

"I did it for the guy who lost his mom," McNeal told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. "It was the right thing to do."

The record will show that the Milwaukee team won 62-47. But as I imagine the two teams sharing pizza after the game, I doubt that the score was all that important to them.

They're all winners in my book.

Be good to each other
Rev. Josh
022009

Valentine Potluck

I helped a dear friend move on Valentine's Day this year, so I was unable to go to the church's annual Valentine Potluck and Talent Show. But I did get this wonderful YouTube video of one of our youth performing "I Was Born to Entertain" from the show Ruthless! Enjoy!



Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
021709

Valentine

Love each other,
Rev. Josh
021309

And They'll Know We Are Christians

I don't know if any of you saw this story when it first hit, but it has stuck with me so I thought I would share it with you all.

I also found this...

And so... I have to ask the question... who do you think won that game?

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
021209

The God Space

I've been thinking a lot about preaching lately. Partly because of this year's General Association, and partly because of all the things that go along with the professional transition I have coming down the pipe. I think I will always remember what it was like to preach my candidating sermon for the church I'm currently serving. For one thing, the church had been struck by lightning the night before, and it was not until that morning that they discovered that the sound system for the sanctuary had been fried. I'll always remember Eric booking out of the sanctuary and returnining with an electric podium and a coil of extension cord! And I distictly remember answering a question afterword about preaching. I said that what I write and say are not necissarily what the congregation hears. And that's a good thing! Because I have found that God can and frequently does wonderful things in that place between what I say and what you hear. That's when I saw this excited hand shoot up in the second or third row. It belonged to Amory, a divorced mother of two teenage boys who later became one of our youth advisors. "Yes?" I acknowledged Amory and her hand. "Fred Rogers calls that 'The God Space'!" she exclaimed!

I don't know how well known the Reverend Fred Rogers is anymore. To me it feels like he died just recently, but it has actually been about 6 years. But perhaps his television show lives on in reruns on Public Televsion. Maybe you've heard of it? It was called Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

Anyway, Amory's citation of Fred Rogers tickled me to no end, and I probably told her right there that I was going to remember it and use it—and I have, in this poem:

Fred Rogers Called That “The God Space”

Word.
It starts with a word.
Sometimes it’s a hard word, but that’s where it starts.
Stillness.
The empty kind: Where I desperately hope that inspiration hides.
The full kind: My mind links association to association.
Write.
Tell stories, teach history, quote wise people, living and dead.
Make connections for today, our lives, to The Word.
Pray without ceasing.
Speak.
Make connections for today, our lives.
Tell stories, teach history, quote wise people, living and dead.
Speak.
Into stillness, the full kind: My mind links association to association.
The empty kind: Where I desperately hope that inspiration hides.
Speak.
Into the space that lies between what I have said and what has been heard.
The space where the Holy Spirit loves to work on each of us.
Never forget that it starts with a word.
Sometimes it’s a hard word.
But that is still
Where it starts.

Joshua J Sander 12/15/08



I like you just the way you are,
Rev. Josh
020609

Spoon Theory

That's right, Spoon Theory. It's not one of those new-fangled quantum physics things. Nor is it a sly way for me to make reference to The Tick and his nonsensical battlecry. Spoon Theory is a very concrete way for folk living with chronic diseases and conditions to help the rest of us understand what it's like to be sick.

Spoon Theory comes from short story by Christine Miserandino about a conversation she had with a friend about what it is like for Christine to live with Lupus. Please take the time to read the full story at ButYouDon'tLookSick.com.

Go ahead, I'll wait...

Okay, fine, here's a thumbnail version I found on YouTube, but please understand that I do not have the rights to the story, and neither does the person who made the video, so do me a favor and read the full story at ButYouDon'tLookSick.com!



I would be remiss if I did not thank a dear friend, who struggles with Fibromyalgia, for stopping and explaining to me what she meant when she told me one day that she "didn't have enough spoons" for something or other. I already felt blessed by her friendship, and now I feel twice-blessed that she would utilize any of her hard-won spoons on me!

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
020409

Slacker

Yup, I've been slacking off on my blog entries. A dear friend almost gleefully told me, "Yeah! Your last post was Halloween!!" Which is just embarrassing. However, I thought I should tell you, faithful readers—and you must be either faithful or new to my blog if you're reading this after so many months of nothing—what I told him. One of the reasons I haven't updated in so long is because at work I have my blog set to my home page—and I felt that I needed to be taking my own advice in recent months.

With the extreme downturn in the economy, the church I serve has been forced to drastically cut its budget across the board—and eliminate the position I currently hold. So the message I had for all of you about how we can't always go the old and familiar ways, the message about how sometimes there's something scary between where you are and where you need to get to, the message about how even though it might not be obvious but there is always a way forward... I needed that message myself!

It's a little bit like "Be careful what you wish for." or "Practice what you preach." Don't you think? "Be careful what you post, or you might need it yourself?"

Be good to each other,
Rev. Josh
020309

Welcome to Silent Hill

I've been thinking a lot about Silent Hill lately. It's one of my favorite scary video game series, and I've been playing the most recent installment this month. And a couple of days ago, it suddenly hit me that life is like Silent Hill sometimes. (Just click any of these to enbiggen them.)

Sometimes you're in a dark place.

Sometimes you can't go the way you used to.

Sometimes there are barriers in your way.

Sometimes there's something scary between where you are and where you need to be.

Even though sometimes it may be circuitous, counterintuitive, hidden, or just plain hellish, there's always a way forward.

Happy Halloween!
Rev. Josh
103108

This Is Halloween

I've already written my definitive Halloween post, however, there's always something new to discuss, isn't there?

For example, this morning, I ran across this article about how " For 16 years, real horror overshadowed the make-believe terror of Halloween" in Oil City, PA. There's already something about Halloween that freaks people out, especially adults, in my opinion. There are varied reasons for this, I think, but underneath it all it seems to me that Halloween embraces things that are beyond our control. It's an excuse to cut loose from the laws of everyday society, to hide behind masks, to be what we aren't... and of course, there's the specter of death everywhere. So it didn't surprise me to read that Oil City had clamped down hard on Halloween for so many years in response to a horrible murder.

Warning: The following account of the murder disturbs me. Consider it at least a PG13 rating.

You see, on October 27th, 1992, 11 year old Shauna Howe was walking home from a Girl Scouts Halloween party. She was only two block from her house when she was abducted right off the sidewalk. Two days later her body was found in a dry creek bed underneath an abandoned railroad trestle. It was later determined that Shauna spent most of those two days in captivity, that she had been raped, and that she had still been alive when she was tossed from the 30 foot high railroad trestle.

As the article put it:

With the town gripped by fear that a child killer was on the loose, trick-or-treating the next day was held in daylight for the first time. Police watched from helicopters as parents led their children from house to house along quiet streets.

Residents also began locking their doors and driving their children to school. And every year afterward, the City Council voted to allow trick-or-treating in the afternoon only, a move duplicated around the same time by many other U.S. cities and towns worried about children's safety.

I won't say that Oil City overreacted, after all, the three arrests made in the case weren't until the middle of 2004, (This site seems to have the best info on how that all came about.) but I do wonder if the town would have had a similar reaction had it been, say, a 4th of July party, instead. Even granting that Oil City's reaction was appropriate, I will also say that if I were the parent of 10 year old Elizabeth Roess, I'd be very, very proud. There's something very powerful about the fact that it took a 5th Grader's petition drive and very simple arguements (Halloween decorations are best appreciated at night, and many people aren't home during the day to give out candy) to move Oil City into a less fearful place.

Still, Oil City plans to have twice as many police officers on duty, plus all of the school's security guards and crossing guards. And the local radio station has been running a public service announcement warning parents to accompany their children, examine all candy, and have their kids wear reflective material. And two out of three of those precautions are useful and necissary.

Halloween candy tampering is an urban legend. Despite some very well publicized accounts of alleged tamperings in the 60's and 70's, there is absolutely no record of a child being injured or killed by swallowing adulterated Trick or Treat booty. Period. This one gets my goat, I think, because I have clear memories of being sternly warned by a uniformed policeman to thoroughly check candy before eating it on Halloween. It put a real damper on the holiday, at least in my experience as a child. And there's enough real danger in the world without lending credence to a pretend one.

I guess if there's an underlying message to all of this, it is this: As in all things, there is a balance to be had here. There is darkness in the world. Sometimes there are rapists and murderers ready to take your children from you. Sometimes children get run down in the road. But there are appropriate and reasonable precautions to take. After that... just have fun, won't you?

Be safe
Be not afraid
Rev. Josh
103008

9/11

It has been amazing how little time I've had the past couple of weeks. The beginning of the program year here at the church (which basically follows the school year) requires a lot of attention! So much so that I was a little off my game yesterday when Emmi, my co-dean for The Written Word told me via AIM that her office was observing a moment of silence in memory of September 11th. "Oh yeah... that's today, isn't it?" I said. That's how busy it's been. But I'm almost ready for Sunday, and I feel bad about (a) not blogging regularly & (b) not reflecting on 9/11, so I thought I'd do both of those things now.

My first memory of disaster is watching the Challenger explosion on TV when I was 9 years old. (I just glanced at the wiki article, and the image of that smoke plume still haunts me.)

The next time I remember being that deeply disturbed by tragedy was the Columbine High School massacre. I was in college then, and remember sitting in my dorm room and watching CNN all day long, trying to wrap my mind around it. I don't think the image of students being rescued through a second story window to the top of a SWAT vehicle, or racing for their very lives across the lawn, will ever leave me. I remember just... devouring every snippet of information I could on what happened there and did my very best to understand why... and I came to some hard conclusions about our society--but that's a post for another time, I think.

But 9/11... I was a student at ANTS and classes were supposed to start on the 12th. My wife was only my fiancée then, and the plan was for her to ride up to campus with me, spend the day with me, and then I would put her on the train home again. My dad was still working for the Navy then, and he and my mom had gotten up very, very early, had breakfast, watched the news and turned off the tv before the attacks happened. Then Mom and I went to the train station in Westerly to buy the tickets for the next day. And the gentelman at the station said, "We're not selling tickets today, nobody's going anywhere." And we were obviously confused, so the man said, "What? You haven't heard? Somebody flew a plane into a building in New York, they aren't sure yet if it's an accident or if somebody did on purpose." So we went back to the car and drove home, listening to the radio. I decided that driving towards Boston the next day, where the planes that hit the World Trade Center had taken off from, might not be my best move... I remember people around me feeling sorrow, and anguish, and... I couldn't feel anything. I was numb. But this disaster caused me to do more soul-searching about my country, my religion, and my God than any other.

I love this country, but I did not run out and buy a flag for my car. Instead, I wondered what kind of person decides to make a buck selling those flags on the backs of the nearly 3,000 dead in those attacks. I have always held dear the ideal of pacifism, because I believe that Jesus taught us to be pacifists and because I believe that violence begets violence and pacifism begets peace. But I cannot fault the passangers of Flight 93 for mounting their assault. There's certainly something about the words, "Are you guys ready? Ok. Let's roll!" that strike deep into the heart. I still struggle with 9/11, and all the things that it changed--all the positive and negative things that it revealed about this country, about this people, that I love.

On Neil Gaiman's blog yesterday there was a post about how layers of meaning have been added to 9/11 over the years, and it uplifts a clip of Jon Stewart as a means of maintaining perspective. My wife and I watched it in silence this morning, but before I embed it below, I'd like to point out one more thing I struggle with about this country, this people. In this clip, Jon Stewart proclaims that the 9/11 attacks forced us to a place where we judged not by the color of a person's skin, but rather by the content of their character. As we gear up for another election, and I hear people tear down the Democratic candidate because his last name is "Obama," I must beg to differ. Maybe in that pure moment of terror, as the towers came down, maybe then every color, race, and creed were for a moment equal. But I ask you, how long did that last?


If you have issues seeing the video, try this.

Be good to each other.
Rev. Josh
091208