Thursday November 17, 2022

I’m okay. My joints don’t ache, and none of my internal organs has issued a strike notice.

            Life is, generally good.

            I can’t say the same about the world around me.

            My email friend and fellow blogger Jim Henderschedt listed a number of things going wrong: “The seemingly daily news of war, lies, assault weapons, muck raking, genocide, racial enmity, mass shootings, homelessness -- the list goes on and on...”

            What do you do when your world seems to be coming apart at the seams? When your dreams turn into nightmares? When old friends topple like bowling pins, and your investments sink like autumn leaves?

            It’s tempting to go back to bed and pull the covers up over your head. Or perhaps to curl up on the floor in a fetal position.

            A sense of helplessness leads some to lash out in anger. I suspect that’s the emotion behind the trucker’s convoy to Ottawa, last February. Behind the attack on U.S. Congress last January. Behind Donald Trumps’ “Male America Great Again” campaign.

            Others may grasp at straws, putting all their faith into a belief that an unproven drug, device, or diet will rescue them. And the planet.

Mr. Fix-it

            Here’s Jim Henderchedt again: “I get the sense that our prayers (especially those that I hear on Sunday mornings) can be summed up in one simple petition; ‘We messed things up, Lord, big time. So now it's your turn to fix them.’

            “Do we see the situation,” Jim asked, “pray to God to fix it, and then sit back and wait? Or do we take seriously what Pope Francis said; ‘Pray for the hungry ... and then feed them!’”

            Another friend told of catching a young man stealing an armload of frozen dinners from a retail store. Reg is 91. He has failing eyesight. He’s as sturdy as a house of cards.

            But he didn’t think about the risks to himself. He grabbed the thief by the collar, slammed him up against a car, and threatened to punch him out if he didn’t drop his loot and scram.

            Reg would be in hospital right now if the thief had retaliated.  But he didn’t. He fled.

            Maybe it was just the passion in Reg’s voice or the fire in his eyes that made the difference.

Each one reach two

            After B.C.’s recent municipal elections, one candidate circulated a questionnaire, asking which media approach had most influenced my vote.

            “None of the above,” I replied. “Word of mouth always works best.”

            And I suggested that the ultimate campaign strategy would be the old mission program, “Each one, teach one.”

            But not just one. Each one reach two. Who commit to reach two more.

            Instead of linear growth, it becomes exponential.

            As an elderly male past his prime –- although not quite as elderly as Reg, yet –- I can’t personally resolve any of Jim Henderschedt’s list of global ills. But if I can do something, and convince two more people to join me, there’s hope.

            “I know there are no easy answers,” Jim Henderschedt concluded. “Nor do I want them. All I really want to know is why bother, and is it worth it?”

            Reg would say yes –- it’s worth it.

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Copyright © 2022 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

                  To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

There were a few letters, phone calls, and passing comments about last week’s column, which was. I suppose, an extended metaphor about a homeless woman pushing all her belongings around in a grocery cart, and how that applies to the baggage we all haul around with us from our past. 

            There were only two letters offering any substantive comment. 

Isabel Gibson called the column “an interesting thought experiment. If all I had was a grocery cart, which of my houseful of things would make the cut? [And] if all I could believe in had to fit in a handful of ideas, what would be worth keeping?”

            JT: On a sense, I’ve been living with that thought experiment. At almost three years since Joan’s death, I’m finding things around the house that I haven’t used, or touched, or even thought about for three years or more. I’m starting to get rid of shirts I haven’t worn, books I haven’t opened, tools I haven’t worn – off they go to the local United Church Thrift Shop. If they have some sentimental value, if they fulfill a useful function, I may reconsider. Otherwise, they’re doing me no good. 

            Isabel added a further comment: “P.S.  That's a great story from Pastor Kemper. Good for the employee who reassured her. Good for all of us if we can learn to do that for ourselves, just as we like to think we'd do it for a stranger.”

The second letter came from Tom Watson: “How much do any of us need anyway? Is a grocery cart full of stuff enough? Likely. But most of us have far more...and a whole lot of it isn't essential to our wellbeing.”

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Psalm paraphrase

Whether or not the words attributed to Mary in Luke 1 were really said by her, or are a kind of hymn patterned on Miriam in the desert and Hannah in the temple, they could be a creed for women everywhere, and a clarion call to action for all the rest of us. 

My body grows round with wonder;

my soul swells with thanksgiving.

For God has been so good to me;

God did not say, "She's just a girl."

Yes, once I was a slip of a girl, 

but now I am woman.

I can bring forth new life.

In all generations, I am blessed.

How could anyone miss it--

this new life in me is divine.

It is holy.

God grants new life to all who still have a child's wonder;

they will be born again, and again, and again.

God watches over them; 

God's fierce love fills potential predators with sudden fear.

The miracle of birth levels our human differences:

tough men become tender and gentle,

learned professors blurt out baby talk,

even politicians fall silent in awe.

For the small and helpless are wrapped warmly in soft blankets;

they are held lovingly in caring arms;

they drink their fill with eyes closed. 

The rich, for all their wealth and status, can go suck lemons. 

That is how God deals with all of God's faithful people,

all who do not put their faith in themselves.

So God has always done,

so God will always do,

from Sarah's miracle, to mine. 

Apparently the print version of my paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary is now out of print. But you can still order an e-book version of Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com, or 1-800-663-2775

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TECHNICAL STUFF

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. Some spam filters have blocked my posts because they’re suspicious of some of the web links.

                  Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca He’s also relatively inexpensive!

                  I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also has lots of beautiful photos. Especially of birds.

                  Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)

ALVA WOOD’S ARCHIVE

                  I have acquired (don’t ask how) the complete archive of the late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures. I’ve put them on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. You’re welcome to browse. No charge. (Although maybe if I charged a fee, more people would find the archive worth visiting.)