Dismissals

Did you ever know anyone famous? Not just be in the same room but have them speak to you? I have. Frederick Buechner, American writer, novelist, poet, autobiographer, essayist, preacher, theologian and ordained Presbyterian minister, was a teacher at a boarding school where I spent some time. Buechner once sought me out to tell me, “Turn down your stereo!” I could barely hear him. A few years later, after our admittedly brief encounter, Fred Buechner wrote this: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Those words I heard.

Thanksgiving is a time to give God thanks for our blessings.Yet, if we have met with disappointment, let us find our way to gratitude without having everything we want or even need. Disappointment need not preclude gratitude, nor need gratitude crowd out the very real possibility of disappointment. We do not have to choose one over the other but rather make space in our heart to accept the sheer complexity and contradictoriness of human experience … for which, thanks be to God. [Based entirely on The Heart of Torah, Vol. 1; by Rabbi Shai Held, p. 63; The Jewish Publication Society]

The difference between the two is the first letter. I notice it in these contentious times … so many opinions, so very little agreement. Someone will say, “So, you believe…” and they will lay out their understanding of what they think I believe. With that, I’m on the defensive. Change the first letter and it’s a question: “Do you believe…?” The question deserves a thoughtful answer. As I answer, a certain clarity may come to me, especially if I have the presence of mind then to ask, “Do you believe…?” It’s only that first letter, but it makes all the difference.

There is a story of Alexandre Auguste Ledru-Rollin, a champion of the working class during the French Revolution. He sat in a cafe as a crowd of supporters marched by. His words: “There go my people! I must find out where they are going so I can lead them!” The people of the church are a wellspring of energy and ideas for building up the church and ministering to a hurting world … members of the congregation are engaged in active, challenging ministries. They are already leading … and we must learn where they are going so we might go also.

I am brought low by the events of each day, confounded by each news account. I struggle to keep my own demons at bay. What does God expect of me? Another letter to a senator? Signatures on a petition? What am I to do? I recollect words of Antoine de Saint-Exupery: “If you want to build a ship, do not drum up people to collect wood and do not assign tasks and work, but rather teach people to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” The first work of the peacemaker is to learn to long for peace.

What he told me went something like this: “For a long time I was understanding it all wrong, about when Jesus said, ‘Take up your cross and follow me.’ I had it that Jesus was carrying his cross to Calvary and there was all these other crosses set out, and I was supposed to take my cross and follow Jesus. But my cross is not like Jesus’ cross. My cross isn’t made of wood. My cross is the work I’ve been given to make the world a better place. This work’s not easy, but it’s what I’m called to do.”

My sons’ pleadings were relentless. I was adamant. Just because every other boy in grade school watches Freddy Krueger’s Nightmare on Elm Street every weekend, not my sons. But they wore me down. I said “OK” but we would watch together. I made popcorn, put the tape in the machine and, with remote in hand, we settled in. Freddy did his thing. After twenty minutes, Freddy and I were all alone. I hit the remote and found the boys in their room, contentedly playing with their race cars. “What about Freddy?” I asked. The answer: “That’s OK. We’ve seen him.”

As I venture into the world to minister to prisoners and homeless men, I am frequently ministering to men who are not all that lovable. They have their own beliefs and opinions. I dispense the alms … they receive the alms … why can they not see the world as I see it? Alas, I learn every day that God has not arranged the world for my personal tranquility. From time to time … more now than before … I see a little of these men in myself … and a little of me in them … and a healthy dose of God in us all.

A young man, I landed a job in a big machine shop. I swept, cleaned and did odd jobs. An old machinist named Buddy befriended me. He worked at a steady pace but always had a few minutes to talk. Buddy sometimes let me run his lathe and no one said a word. Buddy had some sway in the shop but I didn’t know what it was until my last day. Buddy was the first machinist in the company. From day one, he took half his wages in stock. By the time I showed up, Buddy owned half the company.

I’m the greeter at the Food Pantry. I stand at the entryway and welcome each person. There’s always a line. Even children wait patiently. I bought a few bags of small, sweet oranges, took up my position at the door and, as each child came in, I gave them an orange. It is a small gift … it is only an orange … but I believe it will please God to see to it that one of those oranges makes a difference in the life of one of those children. Which child or which orange, I do not know. But I believe.

I heard Bach’s Goldberg Variations on the radio, then received the recordings as a gift: Glenn Gould’s “A State of Wonder – The Complete Goldberg Variations.” Gould (1932-1982) was a celebrated classical pianists and best known as an interpreter of Bach’s keyboard works. At age 23, Gould recorded Bach’s Goldberg Variations with dazzling speed and unparalleled virtuosity. At age 49, in the last year of his life, Gould again recorded Bach’s Goldberg Variations and they are measured, graceful, unhurried, as if there was nothing more to prove. Gould plays … I listen … and marvel at the changing pace of my own life.

Alone, I find God oddly silent. Adam and Eve “…heard the sound of the LORD God walking the garden at the time of the evening breeze,” and God spoke to them, “Where are you?” God told Moses to say, “I AM has sent me.” And Elijah, hiding in cave, did not hear God in the wind, the earthquake or in the fire but in the “sound of sheer silence.” I step into the evening breeze and there, wherever I turn, I hear God … the woman with pearls … the man with a cane … the child, a few steps from her mother.