Think About These Things - An Advent Sermon on Peace

Finally, Beloved: Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.  -- Philippians 4:8

This is a portion of what I preached yesterday, so I'm throwing it out there for the rest of you. (You can soon hear the full sermon here: http://www.wbccucc.blogspot.com/)

This is the Week of Peace in our preparations for Christmas, and I must admit that I approach it saddened and disappointed. I'm having a really tough time with our president's decision to commit 30-40,000 more troops to Afghanistan -- a country with a hopelessly corrupt, unpopular government, and complicated tribal splits and alliances. I recognize the danger of a particular breed of radical extremist Islam spreading to Pakistan -- a country in possession of nuclear weapons -- but my heart is heavy as I think of all those young men and women on their way to mayhem, blood and destruction.

Paul, in a similar time of military occupation, unrest and chaos, had simple advice for his fledgling faith community in Philippi: gravitate toward the good and just. Think about these things. This was the scheduled reading for next Sunday, but it also came to mind for me on the morning after President Obama's speech, when I tuned into an NPR call-in program to hear Robert Segal express slight chagrin that the first "expert" to phone in about the situation in Afghanistan and Pakistan was not a general, diplomat or foreign service worker, but none other than Deepak Chopra. Chopra cut him short and stated (and I am paraphrasing here):

"It makes perfect sense that I am talking to you. Consider India, and the state it was in several decades ago. We were not far different than Afghanistan and Pakistan, with warring factions and extreme tribal conflicts, but money was poured into education, and look where we are today: a stable, strong world leader... a successful nation. The same needs to happen in Pakistan and Afghanistan. Invest in educating the population, give them hope and the tools to better their minds and their lives and nihilistic extremism will evaporate."

It reminds me of one recent military effort in Iraq, where soldiers solicited American high schools to donate used soccer balls to fight the insurgency. My alma mater, Bloomfield High School, was one that sent soccer balls to Iraq, to be handed out by American forces to kids who desperately needed to do what kids everywhere most need to do: play together.

Playground diplomacy focuses on our humanity, on so much about us that is true, honorable, just, pure and pleasing. Let's think about these things.

Consider these two men, Edward Said and Daniel Borenboim. Said was a Columbia University English professor. Borenboim is a world-renowned conductor. The two met a decade ago and found that their seemingly conflicting cultures (Arab and Israeli) found common ground when discussing the youth trapped and wasted by the endless Palestinian-Israeli conflict. They germinated an idea: an orchestral camp featuring the finest professional musicians teaching Arab and Israeli youth, who would then perform together as the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. The program grew, and a few years back, when they finally scheduled a performance in Ramallah, Palestine despite the deep safety and security concerns, the appearance of so many Arab and Israeli youth appearing on stage to make beautiful music together resulted in a ten minute standing ovation before the first note was even played! One small increment. True, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable and excellent.

Or how about this man: Professor Joshua Silver, a physicist who had been working with spectroscopic analysis of highly charged ions at Oxford University. Professor Silver invented a way to manipulate the curvature of lenses as part of his work. Then he got to thinking: 60% of the population in the developed world require corrective lenses to see clearly. It would stand to reason that about the same ratio would exist in the developing world. There is an optometrist for every 10,000 people in London, but that ratio is an impossible 1 for every 8,000,000 in sub-Saharan Africa -- meaning that daily living, education, socialization and development are terribly limited in such areas by a seemingly intractable vision problem (figurative and literal).So Professor Silver develops a new set of Adaptive Spectacles. An individual pumps clear silicon oil into a set of lenses, curving them until refraction matches their individual corrective need. Voila! Vision corrected without the need to fly a cadre of optometrists into the African bush. 50,000 pairs of these inexpensive glasses have been fitted thus far.

Now people in the developing world have access to better vision, and a better future. One small increment. True, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent and worthy of praise.

Peace doesn't come at the end of a gun or adjacent to an Improvised Explosive Device. It comes after the dust settles and some soldier tosses a kid a Hershey Bar and a soccer ball. It comes when mortal enemies turn their focus to making immortal music. It comes when a tribal elder can look clearly into the eyes of rival chieftains and beloved grandchildren, thanks to some obscure scientist two continents away. Think about these things.

Consider African merry-go-rounds for children that double as pumps to draw water from deep wells. Think about cardboard solar ovens that allow Sudanese women to remain in the safety of their encampments rather than having to seek firewood to cook family meals. Two more small increments.

We cease to behave humanly when we engage in combat. War is always the result of profound error, and it betrays the limits of our courage and creativity as a species. War is a bulldozed path toward an arbitrary goal. Peace is a meandering walk, winding its way around an issue to find root conflicts to resolve, common strengths to build on, possiblities to explore. War insists on MIGHT while peace plays with might.

At some point in every war, the leaders from each side come together and cobble some manner of peace over tea and biscuits. The worst offenders are isolated and made to answer for their crimes. Amends are made to those damaged "collaterally." Alliances are celebrated. Cities and civilizations are rebuilt, and fields are replanted. Leaders praise their dead and promise that this is the last time, lest their precious spilled blood be defiled.

Could it be that we are inviting the wrong people to lead us to the table? Or maybe it is a simple scheduling error:  isolating offenders, making amends, celebrating alliances and rebuilding civilizations at the end of the process when these best human tendencies should be scheduled for the very start. Shouldn't we all think about these things?

So That's the Thanks I Give

I live in a world of self-entitlement. I expect to receive anything I want at the flick of a switch, the swipe of a card. I like to eat bananas from Honduras, ride a bicycle from Japan, drink beer from Canada and fish with little fake minnows from Ireland. Nuclear fission and Niagara Falls light my reading lamp. My automobile engine runs on the blood of soldiers and harbor seals.

There's a whole lot of faceless people and far-flung materials supporting my lifestyle. There's no such thing as a self-made man.

And so it is that I come to you in this week which contains the day on which we are all supposed to stop, take stock and give thanks. I've decided to do so all this week, in hopes that, after seven straight days of extending the proper attitude of gratitude, perhaps it will become a daily habit I can carry throughout the coming year.

I have much to be grateful for:

1. God - slippery, elusive, wonderous mysterious joy that She is.
2. wife and kids - I am stunned at how much I haven't screwed them up. They're the best part of my really wonderful life.
3. family/friends/faith community - I am surrounded by an eclectic mix of characters who routinely amaze me with their grace, imagination and love.
4. freedom - I'm fortunate to live in a society of laws and latitude. I've grown up safe, been HANDED a great education, have found encouragement to speak up at almost every turn, and get to routinely stir the pot.
5. music - Oh, sweet nectar for the ears. And to not only have the privilege of listening, but to also be able to CREATE music of my own, by myself or with talented friends and family.
6. food - I really enjoy it.
7. green grass, blue sky, yellow sun - Seriously, what a breath-taking combination.
8. puppy jumps and arching-cat-shin-rubs - I'm usually the first human to come home in the evening, and I'm always greeted with love and enthusiasm.
9. a really great fort - Sure, I never had to hold a mortgage on the ones I built 40 years ago out of couch cushions, but the house Teresa and I have built feels every bit as cool.
10. my body - It is beginning to creak, bald and settle, but I can still do most of what I was doing 20 years ago.
11. my mind - Good things come in small packages, I guess.
12. good books - I just finished Steinbeck's "The Winter of Our Discontent." How cool is it that we can turn words into worlds?

How about you? What are you thankful for right now? Please, make a list to share with us...

What's in a Name?

The Mayberry-esque exclamation "what in God's name..." is something beyond quaint for me these days. I've been thinking a lot about God/G-d/Yahweh/Elohim/Adonai/Jehovah/Allah/... What is in a name? More particularly, what is in "God's name?"

Names are given to distinguish an individual from others of its own kind. A thingy is a plant is a flower is a rose is a white rose is a... Names lend specificity, distinction.

But what about this God character we keep prattling on about? I am of the belief that there is one good, living, loving, intentional, creative reality that IS within, without and all around us. Our best impulses, thoughts and actions are seeped in this reality. Our "sins" are attempts at blocking, violating or turning away from its omnipresent flow. I believe Christ to be a brilliant manifestation of this reality in flesh. We, too, are called to be brilliant manifestations of this IS. That's my best current understanding of that which is far beyond my ability to communicate or even comprehend.

So how can we come to name it God? Do we really need to distinguish it from others of its own kind? What others?

No, the names we give to the reality -- the foundation and energy and impulse of all that is Shalom and beyond -- don't serve so much to distinguish the One from other gods. It serves to distinguish us from each other, making us peculiar. Separate. Rivals. Our various names for the good, living, loving, creative reality are so many team jerseys or - worse - military uniforms. How myopic. How misguided. How tragic. How mortally flawed.

For some who read this, it may seem I am breaking the rules of being a Christian pastor. The Christian pastor I am becoming is less and less about fences, more and more about open fields. I guess the pastor has been led out to wide pasture. Where are you flocking these days?

Parenting without Annette

I used to write articles for City newspaper. I'm tossing a few back out there to spur discussion without actually writing something new...

Knowing the constant gives perspective. – Tao Te Ching

As a parent, I love the commercial media. Every nasty, morally bankrupt minute is a Godsend. Cable is even better.

My folks started a family with Donna Reed and Father Knows Best as their standard. Wally and the Beaver were good, wholesome kids, and mouse-eared Annette had that marvelous, innocent twinkle in her eye. Marsha was hot, but modest. Shucks, even Otis the town drunk never gave Sheriff Taylor any real trouble. The television intoned what family and community life must be. Who could possibly measure up to such cruelly high standards?

Today’s media culture is far less sanctimonious. Our heroes are thrown up and torn down at breakneck speed. Motivation is almost always questioned. “Reality” show idols eventually stick a knife in whatever back they’re scratching. Dads tend to be inept. Moms are often shrews. Kids are conniving little manipulators. Who could possibly fall beneath such crass, low standards?

With the help of HDTV, my children see clearly that perfection is myth. As the digital screens get flatter and thinner, the current generation can see behind what we cathode-ray-tubers considered rock-solid. Cynical? Perhaps. But our children are also becoming far harder marks for the hucksters to hit.

Corporate media’s gradual abandonment of broadcast standards means we set our own. Every time my kids and I dodge a mass-murder commercial we say brutality is to be avoided, not celebrated. Whenever we channel-surf past people half out of their minds and their underwear, we affirm sexuality as a gift, not a ploy. Appear in public without Gameboy pacifiers and we join a human race already in progress.

So God bless our corporate media conglomerate. Thanks to them, any fool can create life lessons simply by turning off and finding something better to do.

The Fear Monster

A few years back I used to write articles for Rochester, NY's City newspaper. I thought I'd republish a few here and see what gronks...

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. – John 14:27

When I was a child I marveled at the prospect of someday being big – courageous, strong and free of all fear, like Mom and Dad. The dark depths under the bed, the eerie silence behind the closet door, even the twisted shadows reaching through the window held no power over them. Life without fear held such promise!

At age 42, I’m still hoping to someday be bigger than my fears. Like most of us, I merely traded my childhood fears for mortgage monsters and well-being ghouls that sometimes overwhelm, robbing me of sleep far more aggressively than did any imagined threat of my youth. I haven’t learned my lesson: It is not a monster I fear; my fear IS the monster.

Fear is the opponent of peace. It constricts the flow of blood to our brains and narrows our thinking. It is the basis of all anger, crime and conflict.

Peace as the world gives – usually defined as the mere absence of war – is fearfully inadequate. Instead, let us with our children embrace a higher personal standard: peace as the absence of fear. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not let them be afraid, that wonderful man said. Examine and understand. Cast enlightenment on your darkest fears. It is what fear does to us in the darkest recesses of our hearts that leads to all that goes terribly wrong on this beautiful planet among these beautiful people.

Work through your nightmares and our world sleeps better tonight.

The Do-Nothing Parent

I used to write short articles for Rochester, NY's City newspaper. Thought I'd revisit a few and see what discussion results...

The gods do not deduct from man's allotted span the hours spent in fishing. – Babylonian Proverb

I feel both gratified and somewhat guilty that you are taking the time to read these 300 words. It is my hope that you will gain nothing from them.

Your days are moving faster. This is no illusion. Your perception is accurate. Mathematically, a child experiences her second birthday as 0.13% of her life; her tenth, 0.027%; her thirtieth, 0.0091%. A sunny afternoon in the park does last longer for a five year-old than a twenty-five year-old because our days become ever-smaller portions of our lives. I believe this also explains why it takes so much more strength of will for children to wait for something eagerly anticipated or to endure something unpleasant or non-stimulating. Think of it from their perspective and understand.

When I was a child and summer was just shy of eternal, nothing was a perfectly wonderful thing to do. I had few obligations, and life came to me in giant blocks of time. As an adult, there are too many tasks to squeeze into the ever-shrinking hours. I’ll huff and I’ll puff and another day has blown by.

As I write this, there is a child in the next room waiting for me as patiently as he can. He wants to spend whatever time I will spare for him doing little or nothing in particular with me. He wants to feel my presence and know he’s loved. Sure, for me this will mean adding three more tasks to some other, already tightly packed hour. But for him it will mean so much more.

The less time we have to spare, the more critical our choice of how we spend it. What’s more important than your work? Nothing.

Ask the Pastor 2 - "Mo' Worthy Scripture?"

My last Ask the Pastor question, as submitted on a recent Sunday morning for my particular take... and hopefully as a discussion starter:

"Are any books of the Bible considered more worthy or more important than others?"

Great question. Lots of possible answers. Here's what strikes me right out of the blocks.

YES. Throughout history some books of the Bible have been considered more worthy or more important than others. First, that's how we came to have our Christian Bible in the first place. Through use, discussion and discernment the ancient Jewish leaders winnowed down possible texts into what became something of a canon of Hebrew Scriptures. Also, several "Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical" books are included in some Christian Bibles, but not others (Tobit, Judith, additions to Esther, Wisdom of Solomon, Ecclesiasticus, Baruch, Letter of Jeremiah, additions to Daniel [Prayer of Azariah and the Song of the Three Jews, Susanna and Bel and the Dragon], 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th Maccabees, 1 and 2 Esdras, Prayer of Manasseh, and Psalm 151).

In the New Testament, there was a centuries-long fight over what to include. Revelation was highly disputed, as were some others. Some sects wanted to eliminate most or all of what we now call the Old Testament. Some wanted only one Gospel.

Martin Luther once called the book of Jude "an epistle of straw." Thomas Jefferson edited his own version of the Gospels to save the ethical teachings of Jesus from the "artificial vestments in which they have been muffled by priests, who have travestied them into various forms as instruments of riches and power for themselves."

This is simply to suggest that the Bible is a LIBRARY (Greek: Biblios) of books of multiple eras, outlooks and intentions. It is meant to be studied, prayed over, discussed, weighed and lived in.

When I first entered seminary, my main Bible was a New Internation Version pew Bible given to me by a Lutheran pastor. I highlighted verses that particularly resonated with me. When I picked it up years later I was astounded at some of my choices, as I missed entire pericopes that were suddenly vital to me. Go figure. At different times, different verses jump off the page for us.

Right now I am working on a book on Moses, so the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Bible, attributed to Moses) and especially Exodus are most important to me now. With that, I would mix in Isaiah (m' favorite Prophet), John's Gospel, Acts and Romans. Philippians and Jonah are regular stops for me, too. Ask me again next month, and I'll probably have a different list for you.

In short, I think every section of the library we call the Bible is worthy of extended, repeated visits. But, hey, Hosea and Revelation aren't really speaking to me at the moment. What's speaking to you right now? That's what's most important...

We Are Stardust

An extension of the Mom's Day sermon, here is the cogent quote from the great Alan Watts that I mentioned yesterday.

Most of us have the sensation that "I myself" is a separate center of feeling and action, living inside and bounded by the physical body -- a center which "confronts" an "external" world of people and things, making contact through the senses with a universe both alien and strange. Everyday figures of speech reflect this illusion. "I came into this world." "You must FACE reality." "The conquest of nature."

This feeling of being lonely and very temporary visitors in the universe is in flat contradiction to everything known about man (and all other living organisms) in the sciences. We do not "come into" this world; we come OUT of it, as leaves from a tree. As the ocean "waves," so the universe "peoples." Every individual is an expression of the whole realm of nature, a unique action of the total universe. This fact is rarely, if ever, experienced by most individuals. Even those who know it to be true in theory do not sense or feel it, but continue to be aware of themselves as isolated "egos" inside bags of skin. -- Alan Watts, The Book On the Taboo Against Knowing Who You Are, (c) 1966.

We spend precious little time reflecting on the fact that we are built of stuff that was present at some Big Bang/Let-There-Be-Light moment millions of millenia ago. All that material substance is just passing through, and will one day be residing in blades of grass, garden dirt, rain drops and, perhaps, some other sentient beings. Parts of us will no doubt sail into space to land who knows where...

Right now at this "point" in "history," matter has manifested in your shape, size and sentience. The universe has temporarily brought forth YOU. How should you spend your l'il blip of existence?

(Hint: The least you could do is call your mother...)

Ask the Pastor, Part 1

I have borrowed a concept from a colleague and friend. The West Bloomfield UCC congregation submits faith n' religion questions that I do my best to answer. We collected our first round of questions last Sunday. Here they are with my humble answers:

How do you define “Christian?”

This is a question millions upon millions through the centuries have struggled with, fought over and died from. Let's start at the foundation:

The word Christian contains the word Christ from the Greek Kristos, meaning “anointed one.” This is the Greek term for the Jewish “messiah.” The suffix -ian is derived from the latin iani, meaning “a partisan of,” like Caesariani means “partisan of Caesar.” So Christian means partisan of the Christ.

The word Christian only appears twice in the entire Bible, and both times rather negatively! Early believers instead used terms like saints, brothers, disciples, and followers of the way. So it is unlikely that the followers of Jesus originated the term Christian.

Likewise, it certainly wouldn't have been 1st Century Jews who originated the term, since the name CHRISTian assumes that Jesus is the Christ, which most Jews denied. Rather, it appears Roman officials in Antioch may have coined the term to distinguish the Jesus movement from Judaism, and they probably meant it as an insult. Within several decades, the followers of Christ would wear that insult as a badge of honor, beginning to identify themselves as Christian.

The long and bloody history of our faith focuses a great deal on the definition of Christian, and, most specifically, on who ISN'T one. So many litmus tests and arbitrary rules of faith have been negatively applied to the term that many modern people of faith shy away from the label completely! As for me, I think I'd return to the original term and define Christian rather widely as anyone who would follow the teachings of Jesus as a self-identified partisan of the Christ. Or more precisely: A Christian, to me, is one who recognizes in some form the messiah-ship of Jesus, and desires and consistently attempts to bring his/her own life into harmony with his teachings.

Jesus is only spoken of one time as a child around 12 years of age. Why not more?

It seems an unfathomable mystery that our Bibles are very nearly silent on the topic of Christ's childhood, and we would dearly love to know more about his first years! But, logically, it is perfectly understandable that we do not. Consider the following:

We know little or nothing about the childhood of any Biblical character, except when some element or experience of that childhood is central to some point being made. What was it like for Moses being raised by an Egyptian princess? We have no idea. How did David pass his time as a five year old? Not a clue. Was John the Baptist a wild child? Beats me. Did Paul get along well with his mom and dad? Can't tell you for sure. Sure, we know that Ishmael and Isaac suffered rivalry and travails as children, but those stories are central to historic assertions the Biblical author is stressing. More often than not, childhood experiences are not documented because they weren't seen as vital to the message.

Most of the first followers of Christ didn't deem his childhood important enough to write about. Why? Some historians say that infant mortality rates were so high in those days that emphasis was placed only on birth (for lineage) and then on “coming of age” around 12 years old (successful survival to one's pro-creative years), with not a lot of societal attention or energy devoted to what we would today consider the vital, formative years of early childhood. It's true. Two of our four Gospels don't even have accounts of Jesus' birth (Mark and John)! Paul, who authored our oldest New Testament scriptures, addresses only the adult ministries and teachings of Christ. What mattered to the first generations of Christians were Jesus' very adult messianic claims and his teachings.

Those who assembled what we now call the New Testament saw no value in preserving stories of Christ's childhood. There are other Gospels out there that didn't make the cut when Christian leaders were deciding what would go into our Bibles and what would not. Some of them have stories of Jesus' childhood. Most of them seem kind of wild and pretty goofy. We aren't missing much by their exclusion, it would seem. So, what we have instead are two stories of Christ's birth (in Matthew and Luke, to prove his Jewish pedigree and assert God's intention from the start), and his experience at Temple as a pubescent boy (showing him entering public life as – at the least – an already unique and profound religious thinker).

I don't believe in the virgin birth or the bodily resurrection of Jesus. Does this mean that I'm not really a Christian?

Can those who would call themselves Christians be skeptical of basic tenets of the faith? Good question. Let me first frame my answer by referring back to my personal definition of Christian above, as one who recognizes the messiah-ship of Jesus in some form and who thus desires and consistently attempts to bring his/her life and relationships into harmony with Christ's teachings.

There are prominent sects of Christianity that insist a belief in the Virgin Birth is necessary for all “true Christians.” It is, for example, an essential element of Roman Catholic doctrine. If you don't believe in the Virgin Birth, you probably shouldn't consider Roman Catholicism or any of the more conservative Protestant sects. There are other branches of Christianity in which this is not considered a make-or-break issue, as they believe Mary need not have been a virgin for God and she to bring forth the messiah. Controversial? Yes. Universally accepted? No.

Not believing in the resurrection of Jesus is stickier, as the Gospel writers insist that the physical resurrection happened, and is an important part of our core traditions. Jesus is real. He is there. The apostles touch him. He eats a piece of fish (Luke 24:41-43).

But you specified bodily resurrection, didn't you? Perhaps you're thinking about 1 Corinthians 15 in which Paul argues clearly that the resurrection one must believe in and embrace as a follower of Christ is a Spiritual Resurrection?

The Gospel writers take great pains to describe Christ's resurrection as both a physical and spiritual event. Paul, on the other hand, speaks of Jesus “appearing” to many, and seems to rally around resurrection as a spiritual phenomenon. If you doubt that Jesus returned with a beating heart, breathing lungs, churning digestive system and all the mundane processes, functions and practical requirements associated with a mortal body, I would suggest there is still room for you in the mystery of the Christian faith. After all, Christ does seem to be in a strange state when Mary Magdalene meets him (she doesn't recognize him until he calls her by name, and then he tells her not to hang onto him), he moves through locked doors and might suddenly disappear when recognized. Couldn't these details speak of something above and beyond a mere physical resurrection? Sure they could.

However, if you deny completely the return in any form after death of Christ and disbelieve his promise to his followers of a new life in some form beyond this world, I can see no good or compelling reason to consider yourself Christian.

Life and School Sport Culture...

I read this article this morning and simply had to share it. What do you think of it? (c.k.)

Christian Science Monitor - Opinion

Columbine and the folly of overvaluing school sports
Ten years later, we are still confusing athletic success with the moral and intellectual kind.
By Jonathan Zimmerman
from the April 20, 2009 edition

New York - In December 1999, just eight months after 15 people died there, Columbine High School won its first state football championship. Americans love a happy ending, and this one was made for TV. National newscasts ran footage of the celebrations at Columbine, which followed a predictable media script: Athletic triumph tempers human tragedy.

And surely, Columbine High School needed any good news it could get. But the impulse to take comfort in sports reflected a larger problem, too: American high schools put far too large a premium on organized athletics.

As we pause to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the Columbine murders, we should also reflect on the sports-crazed culture that helped produce them.

Let's be clear: Nothing can excuse the raw malevolence of the two boys, who gunned down 12 students and a teacher before taking their own lives. And they didn't go looking for "jocks" to kill, as early media reports claimed. But they were bullied by athletes, who stood at the top of the Columbine social ladder.

Even worse, adults reinforced this hierarchy. At Columbine, as sociologist Ralph Larkin has confirmed, teachers and administrators looked the other way when athletes hit or harassed weaker students. When sports stars got arrested outside the school, meanwhile, Columbine bent the rules to make sure they could still take the field.

Most of all, the school awarded athletes a special place in its symbolic order. In foyer display cases, sports trophies and memorabilia spoke volumes about who really counted. The hallway leading to the gymnasium featured Columbine's Wall of Fame, celebrating – you guessed it – the school's outstanding athletes.

That doesn't make Columbine unique, of course. Indeed, other American communities lavish even more acclaim on their youthful sports heroes. At Permian High School in Odessa, Texas – made famous by the H.G. Bissinger book "Friday Night Lights" – school officials spent $70,000 for a chartered airplane to fly the football team to visiting games. Meanwhile, the school's textbooks were 15 years out of date – and nobody could come up with the money to replace them.

So let's use this anniversary to think about sports – not just violence – in American schools. Keep in mind that violent crime in our schools has declined – not increased – by nearly half over the past decade. And shootings are extremely rare. Over the past 20 years, about 10 students per year have been shot in school – roughly one per month during the academic year. That's one too many, of course, but it hardly qualifies as a crisis.

Our overemphasis on sports does. When we tie "school pride" to athletics, we give pride of place to student athletes. And we send exactly the wrong message to millions of children: The sports field is more important than the classroom.

Colleges exacerbate the problem, of course, by rewarding athletic prowess with scholarships and special advantages in admissions. That's because so much of their pride, too, is invested in fielding successful sports teams.

And that returns us to Columbine, which won the state football title again in 2002. Once more, the school celebrated its strength in the face of adversity.

"The team and the school and the community at large had every reason to quit, to give up, to descend into total despair, but we've come out of it to a great degree," Columbine's principal said at the time. "We showed amazing resolve and resilience, and maybe, in some way, we've given faith to others, who saw how we responded."

But sports victories don't signify strength, or resilience, or anything else; they simply mean that one team scored more points than another one did. Today, 10 years after Columbine, we are still confusing athletic success with the moral and intellectual kind.

We need some brave school leaders to stand up and state a few simple truths: Sports are not life, and life is not sports, and all of us need to relearn the difference. Any takers?

Jonathan Zimmerman teaches history and education at New York University. He is the author of "Small Wonder: The Little Red Schoolhouse in History and Memory," which will be published in June.

Not Dead Yet

So yesterday, March 11, 2009, a 30-something man dove into the frigid, roiling waters of the Niagara River in an apparent suicide attempt and survived the 180-foot plunge. He even had enough left to try to fight off his would-be rescuers at the base of the falls. Yowsa.

On my church's Facebook page I put forth the following question: If you were the first person this man saw when he woke up in ICU, what would you say to him?

In terms of faith, life, God, death, sanity, insanity...what could it possibly mean when someone survives a self-removal attempt of such total, over-the-top lethality?!? It stretches the perceived boundaries of both physics and metaphysics!

Come on. I have my thoughts. But I want to hear yours first...

My Favorite Super Bowl ad

In Praise of the Faith Community

I love churches. Whenever I am traveling through a new town, my eye scans the horizon for steeples. Whenever a wedding, funeral or meeting calls me to some other church, I almost always arrive early enough to walk around and get a feel for the place, its people and mission. I pick up newsletters. I read bulletin boards and posted meeting minutes. I sit in sanctuaries and simply absorb the residual Spirit and atmosphere. The same holds true for the monasteries, synagogues, temples, mosques and shrines I have visited. I am drawn to these places where profound and profane meet... these formal touch points between Creator and creation. Something sacred has been lovingly built in these places. With each new day and each heartfelt prayer, more faith, more holiness is added.

Even now, as I sit in my office typing out this reflection, I can hear the cars and trucks zooming by on Routes 5 & 20, just 100 yards away. I wonder where people are going. I know some take comfort at the sight of our building. Perhaps some would stop in to explore and meditate if they only had time. Someday... Someday...

Practical concerns like weather and potential vandals require us to close and lock down at times. Still, in summer, I like to throw open the doors to the Spirit wind and wandering travelers. I've met a lot of interesting people this way, as the sight of our huge oak doors thrown open to the world tends to attract the curious, the troubled, the seeking and the holy. I remember one day when I found myself playing host to three very-excited-if-slightly-lost black lab puppies that suddenly burst into my office. They seemed to appreciate holiness, but, alas, their little puppy brains (hardwired to their little puppy bladders) could only handle so much loving acceptance.

I've also hosted itinerant evangelists, addicts, genealogy researchers, fresh starters, con artists, a few birds and one very persistent bat, all thanks to this open door policy.

I remember one day about ten years ago when these two women showed up. One appeared to be in her late 30s, the other was in her 50s, easy, and seemed to be having a difficult time with arthritis. They were hitching and camping their way from the Midwest to Vermont. A trucker had dropped them off in Avon at the end of his run. They'd walked as far as our doors when they ran out of steam. We gave them a hot shower and a warm meal on that early autumn evening. They seemed a bit leery of a pastor and his family, and didn't share much. Family in Vermont? Nope. Friends? Nope. Jobs? Nope. It dawned on me that these two were most likely traveling together to a location that had just legalized gay marriage. Not knowing where I stood on the issue, they probably chose not to share too much. They simply wanted to make it to Burlington unmolested and uncontested. I felt it best to respect their privacy and not force them to answer to my conjecture. It wasn't my business.

They had a tent and sleeping bags. The 50ish lady said she preferred sleeping outside, but I also saw her wince when she rose from her chair.

A local gentleman farmer granted permission for them to camp in the short grass up behind his pond, and, after dinner, I helped them lug their packs and set camp. It was about midnight that the thunder, lightning, wind and torrential rains hit. I drove and ran to their camp, where their tent had collapsed and they were drenched. They agreed to spend the rest of the night at the parsonage.

In the morning it became obvious that the older of the two ladies was unable to continue hitch-hiking and camping. She turned to her companion with tears in her eyes and said "I just can't do it." I jumped online, found a sister UCC church in Burlington (checking quietly to make sure it was Open and Affirming), called with advance word of these two sojourners, and then we bought them a couple of bus tickets to carry them the rest of the way in padded, heated comfort. At the bus station we asked them only to send word that they were safe and well, handed over a couple of box lunches, quickly, quietly prayed a blessing over them and sent them on their way.

We did receive a simple, brief thank you note, but no other word ever came.

Jesus once said that merely giving a cup of cold water to a child was a holy task. He also said:

"if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.
"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on
the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect."


We'll never be perfect. Not even close, in my case. But it seems to me the most efficient way to eliminate an enemy is to love them into friendship. Who is the enemy of Christ, anyway? Someone who wants to pursue a quiet life of love and laughter? One who would insist on separation, castigation and discord? Any way you think on the issue, Jesus is crystal clear in his directives. Greet all. Love all. Help all on their way.

Yesterday our faith community, West Bloomfield Congregational Church UCC, voted overwhelmingly - UNANIMOUSLY - to throw open our doors to the wandering stranger.We are now officially an Open and Affirming church, though most would say we've always been so, we just hadn't made it formally known. This was not a vote to "love the sinner, hate the sin," but simply, firmly a vote to LOVE.

I pray that you are part of a faith community that does likewise, or are seeking the same. If you are a part of this faith community and have absented yourself because you disagree with the rest of us or the UCC on this or some other issue, I pray that you will return to love and be loved, to be affirmed, and to be a part of this incredible, wide-open, life- and love-affirming mission to which Christ has assigned us all.