Dismissals

This is my wish for the days that remain … and perhaps yours, if you would have it so … the words of William Henry Channing, reformer and clergyman, 1810-1884: “To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common — this is my symphony.”

My mother, Dorothy Dell Dennison, and her sister Lucy, were trained artists. My mother was a 1930 graduate of the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. That year, they packed their easels and supplies and drove deep into Mexico. They sketched and painted landscapes in the wilds, and returned with their old Nash packed with paintings. I later learned that they had taken with them an ancient Maltby Henley pistol, patented in 1888. I could not but ask, whatever was that for? My mother shrugged … a tool of the artist’s trade … when walking the desert or sleeping in the car.

Another birthday is in my rearview mirror. Mercifully, my good health remains. Getting elderly has its rewards, though I’ve not had anyone hold the door for me. Lately, I have had renewed recollections of Jesus’ words … words long known to me though not appreciated: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you … You cannot serve both God and money … Pray for your enemies …” Words return to me as I walk down the street … as I do chores … Jesus living and working among us … in our midst … the Jesus of every day … the simple graces … loving us always.

My father had sailed the coast of Maine and the islands of the Caribbean. He knew about the sea. When I was a boy, he took me to a rustic and rundown ship museum somewhere along the coast of Maine. There were perhaps fifty paintings of ships under sail. Some ships sailed stormy seas, the captain standing the foredeck, fierce wind, cresting waves. My father told me that these paintings were intended for the captains who had braved the fearsome seas. The paintings of cargo-laden ships, plying calm waters? Those were painted for the merchants who owned the ships.

John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath [Penguin Edition, p.419] … In the 1930’s, the Joad Family has been forced out of Depression-era Oklahoma only to find themselves destitute and desperate in rural California. Tom Joad has been in prison and must now make his way alone. His parting words to his mother:

“Maybe … a fella ain’t got a soul of his own, but on’y a piece of a big one … I’ll be all aroun’ in the dark. I’ll be ever’where — wherever you look. Wherever they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever they’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there … I’ll be in the way guys yell when they’re mad an’ — I’ll be in the way kids laugh when they’re hungry an’ they know supper’s ready. An’ when our folks eat the stuff they raise an’ live in the houses they build — why, I’ll be there.”

Of my ministry, people sometimes warn me, “Be careful! People take advantage!” Or, “There’s no end to the schemes and the scams.” Only days ago, someone told me, “A man asked me for money. Said he was hungry. I gave him a five dollar bill and he went and got into a Cadillac and drove off. Can you believe it?” Maybe … not really … who knows? My own faith remains, that there is a grand plan for a happier world and a peaceful life for all. Until then, I’ll make do and give what I can … along with a kind word.

I shared these words some years ago … words I still don’t entirely understand. In my own way, as a follower of Jesus, I have tried to live out these words. I’ve not always succeeded but, on balance, I expect I’ve done more good than harm. I have received more than I’ve given. These are the words: “One may become a Living Parable as one’s life becomes more and more conformed to the life of Jesus, so that one’s life both instructs and puzzles the wider society. Parabolic living and witnessing the gospel give us the power to transform to lives.”* 

*Paraphrased from The New Interpreter’s Handbook of Preaching, December, 2008.

We all have ministries, by whatever name we may call them … care of a sick or lonely person … volunteer at a charity … help change a flat tire. I was asked, “What are your ministries?” I’ve had many, though one in particular remains especially meaningful to me. So I said, “I visit men on death row.” No reply was forthcoming. My questioner departed. I stood alone in the room. For years, I visited men on death row. Now I visit only one. Harsh prison living and old age carried the other men away. Peace to them now, and God’s mercy always.

I never know quite what to make of it … I am walking along, my mind is adrift, someone is coming my way … a stranger on the path. We see each other and one of us nods … there is a nod in return … it is a sign of recognition that says, “I see you. I hope you are well. May peace be with you.” In that moment we are, in some way, connected … headed in different directions yet together on this earth … here for one another as need might arise, and acknowledging that we are, in some mysterious way, walking together.

I was born in Youngstown, Ohio. I was living there when, forty-nine years ago, the steel mills closed. I stayed on for some years, witnessed the city’s slide into stagnation, then moved away without regret. I’ve maintained my low expectations. My accountant is still there so I have occasion to return to Youngstown. This year, I was quite taken with what I saw. They’ve torn down dilapidated houses, planted trees, spruced up neighborhoods. There’s a new hospital. The mall and surrounding stores are filling their parking lots. I wouldn’t have believed it … but I saw it and was glad.

War spreads across a distant land. I despair, and can only wonder, what am I to do? Something in me turns away as war rages … then, unexpectedly, words are set before me: The reflection in Forward, Day by Day for March 9th … the Gospel of Mark, 5:21-43 … “[Jesus] took her by the hand and said to her, ‘Talitha cum,’ which means, ‘Little girl, get up!’ ” Jesus’ words are salve for my soul … I hear these words as a call … that I, too, “get up” … dust myself off and begin anew the work of peace-bringer … a follower of Jesus.

I was once a policeman for a small village in Northern New York. Only one traffic light, and an overhead neon sign that said, “Welcome to Clayton!” The neon sign had been there for generations. One night, the sign went dark. I followed a trail of colored glass that led to Hungerford’s Hardware. A man with a big truck was making a night delivery, bits of neon glass on the truck’s hood. The antenna on the truck’s cab was the culprit. The driver felt bad about it. Rosie’s Diner was nearby. We had coffee, did the paperwork, and justice prevailed.