Sermon Illustrations

TEAMWORK

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Quotable Quotes

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The nice thing about teamwork is that you always have others on your side.    

 

—Margaret Carty, Reader's Digest, March 1986

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TEARS IN WORSHIP - GRIEF

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TEARS
(TUESDAY MORNING Column)
By David Steele, Contributing Editor

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We call it A TIME WITH CHILDREN. The kids come forward and I talk with them awhile. It’s not a children’s sermon or a Bible story, though these may happen now and then. Mostly it is my chance to clue the children in on what is happening that day in worship. If we are communing, I talk about that; if it is stewardship time, that becomes the subject. We want the children to feel themselves a valued part of the worshiping community. At this time, I try to make sure they notice and understand what is going on. 

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So, last Sunday, we reached A TIME WITH CHILDREN, and I said in a quavering voice, “Will the children please join me up front!” And as they gathered, some 20 of them, and sat around me on the steps, I realized tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t talk without sobbing. I tried to gain my composure but could not. It was clear those kids would realize their pastor was weeping profusely. 

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What a fix! I have been through many tough emotional moments in my years in ministry and have always been1 able to 

maintain my cool in public. After all, that’s part of the job — to be in control when others cannot. But here I was out of control. It was a first for me.

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I blame it on Lynda and the choir. She’s a cabaret singer by night — winner of the city’s equivalent of an Emmy, three years running. She’s a regular member of the choir not paid or anything. Music is her contribution to the church. That day, the choir sang an anthem from Isaiah 54 (“For the Mountains Shall Depart”). Lynda sang the solo that moved up and down and around the choir part. It was incredibly beautiful. I noticed many folks getting teary-eyed. Then suddenly I began to think of Bill. That did it for me.

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On Friday at dinner, the calls from Hawaii began: “Bill Knowlton is dead! Heart attack! He was dead on arrival at the hospital.” We had talked that evening with several friends in Hawaii. We got through to Louise; we shared our shock and grief with her and the boys.

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For 13 years Bill was my closest friend. Six years running he and I camped on the beach on the Island of Lanai with our boys, exploring that nearly empty island via Jeep. We were tennis partners; fellow participants in sensitivity training and often we swam together, hoping to net reef fish to stock our salt-water aquariums. We worked side by side. Seldom did a day go by when we did not meet to talk over coffee, or on the beach, or sit on someone’s porch in the evening light. 

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SO THERE I WAS, sitting with the children in worship, and those tears of mourning for pal Bill were flowing down my cheeks and I couldn’t regain or pretend control. I had to acknowledge my tears before those children. I did not do so very eloquently. I told them simply about my friend and about the many happy times we shared. I told them that while I knew Bill was with God, I was sad about his leaving. That I missed him and kind of hurt inside. They could tell I was sad.

They were right, but I wouldn’t stay sad. They’d see me laughing again before long. That was about it. We sang a hymn, the
children went back to their families, and I regained control. The rest of the worship went swimmingly.

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As people left the sanctuary they winked or patted me on the back or said a word to let me know everything was OK. This congregation is so wonderfully accepting. They were telling me they felt good about what had happened. It pleased me to have the church school teachers report after our CHURCH AT STUDY that they used this event to talk with the children about grieving, that tears are a normal part of mourning.

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I realize it is probably a good thing those, tears caught me off guard in worship. I see it happen nearly every week to other people who are mourning or under great stress. They are always embarrassed. Sometimes they stop coming to church. Many’s the time I have said, to them: “Look, tears are appropriate in worship: don’t let them keep you home.”

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Now those tears have happened to me, and everyone saw it and knows it. And it was appropriate. I suspect others may find
comfort in that. 

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But what an emotional drain! That Sunday afternoon, watching the 49ers on the tube was the height of my powers. Weeping is not going to become standard operating procedure for me. I don’t know how Tammy Faye stands it.     

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David Steele is pastor of Christ in Terra
Linda church, San Rafael, Calif.
October 14, 1991 THE PRESBYTERIAN OUTLOOK

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TEEN SUICIDE SERMON

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"THE TRAGIC SHOCK” - HOW CAN WE FACE IT?

Homily delivered on May 20, 1985 by The Reverend William M. MacMillan, Rector of St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Garden City, Kansas at the funeral of Jeffrey Hoyt Duncan, age 16, who took his own life.

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Text: I Corinthians 15:20-26, 35-38, 42-44, 53-58

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This morning, you and I, the family and friends of Jeff Duncan are gathered here to give thanks for Jeff’s life, and to praise Almighty God, the giver of life. We do this not because we want to, but because our faith demands it. That’s why we’re here in this church—in this place where the main activity is the worship of God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ—the Father of us all. But as we say this, our hearts are heavy with the grief we share, as we face what the local newspaper called “the tragic shock” that we have all felt in the face of Jeff’s untimely death.There is something that rises up in us and says, “It can’t be—it
shouldn’t have happened—it’s not right—it makes no sense.” And we’re left with that awful, haunting question—WHY? Why did this happen? and again Why? That question—why?—is, of course, the product of our logical minds, which assume that for everything there is a reason—an identifiable cause that we can understand and hopefully control. But our minds are more logical, it seems, than the world we live in. And all we can find, at best, is a partial answer to our Why?

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But in these few minutes, let’s see what we can do with our Why? For one thing, I believe we can state categorically that death is not the will of God. The Scriptures are pretty clear on this. In St. John’s Gospel, Jesus states that He has come from the  Father, in order that we, his children, might have life, and have it abundantly. That’s one thing we know for sure about God’s will—that He gives us life, and wants us to enjoy it to the full. And in that passage that we read a few minutes ago, St. Paul says to the Corinthians that the last enemy to be destroyed is death. That seems clear enough. Death is the enemy—always the enemy of the God who gives us life.

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Death is our enemy, which is why we’re here today to affirm life, and the Giver of life. That means we will not pretend that Jeff’s or anyone else’s death is the will of God. We will not say that God needed or wanted anyone to be with Him in heaven. Fod God is already with us here on earth. And He is with us out of love, not out of need. So let us not say that death is something God arranges for us. For death is not God’s will.

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But having said that, what can we state about what is God’s will? We’ve already affirmed that God wants us to have life—abundant life. So much so that God freely gives us this life here on earth and then sends us Jesus to tell us of another kind of life—eternal life—life in a new order of things—a new creation, if you please, which we have gotten a glimpse of in the resurrection of Jesus. That new life may begin here and now. And when this mortal life ends, as St. Paul says, death will be swallowed up in victory—the victory that is assured us who follow the risen Lord. That is God’s will for us, as the whole New Testament acclaims—eternal life with Him in the New Creation. And in this present life, we already enjoy a God-given
freedom—freedom to live any way we choose. That’s one of the main points of the Parable of the Prodigal Son. We may take whatever is ours and spend it any way we like, but still the heavenly Father will love us, forgive us and welcome us home whenever we choose to come.

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To be sure, it’s not quite that simple. Our freedom is restricted by various things here on earth. You know these things: other people, for instance, with whom we share this planet and its resources, which are not unlimited. That’s one of the first things we learn in our family, and then again at school. Our freedom is limited by the fact that we share time and space with others—others who may make demands on us, others who may compete with us, and others who may love us and want to help us. Our freedom is restricted, too, by such things as events of nature—a storm or drought, for instance, and by what we call illness or disease.

There seems no doubt that Jeff’s recent bout with a little known illness called Reyes Syndrome left its mark on him, impairing his hearing and perhaps otherwise affecting his judgment and his emotions, directly or indirectly. But we may never know the whole story, for the disease is not well understood. And that reminds us of another restriction on our freedom, the limits of our knowledge. 

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But if we insist on asking our WHY? question, we could go on and on. Why is it so hard for people to ask for help when they seem to need it? Why is it so hard to deal with anger—our own, or that of others? Why is it that when we are gifted in special ways and have above average intelligence, we may yet see those talents, not as a blessing, but as the occasion for demands and expectations that others lay on us, or that we lay on ourselves? And why is it that we care so much about what others think of us, and need so much to look good in the eyes of our family and our peers?

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We all wrestle with questions such as these and wonder if we measure up. Sometimes we aren’t so sure we’re going to make it when doubt or anxiety assails us. That may happen even while other people may look at us and think we have it made. Even the most loving of parents and the best of friends cannot protect us from our humanness—from the doubts, the fears, the anger, the sense of failure that may sometimes plague us. That’s why Jeff’s death shakes us so. Not only has a bright and likable young man been taken from us, but we are also reminded forceably once again of our own frailties, limitations, and fragile hold on life which at times may seem more than we can handle.

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So often in life our WHY? question just doesn’t get answered. Nor should we force an answer in our effort to know WHY? For to insist that there must be answers either leads us to make a monster out of God, or it lays on us a guilt trip that we do not deserve and which would not serve any good purpose. The real question for us here this morning, then, is not WHY? but HOW? Now that this has happened, HOW may we face it? HOW may we find the strength to face our pain and grief, and still go on affirming life and the God Who gives us that life?

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God does not protect us from that pain or from life’s tragic shocks. Rather He meets us in the midst of it, here where we are today, as He has always met us, with love that dies on a cross and then rises to meet us again. Only in that faith and that hope can we keep going. That’s why we have come together today, to share our faith and our hope, even in the midst of our tears and unanswered questions. With God’s continuing help, may we find comfort and strength in the words we have here shared: “Then shall come to pass the saying that is written: Death is swallowed up in victory. Thanks be to God, Who gives us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ.” AMEN.

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TEENAGERS IN CHURCH

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WHY

Believing and Belonging

I finally heard myself say the very words I have always dreaded. These words were said in answer to the once-too-ofien-asked
question, "WHY?" My response was, “Because I'm the mommy, that’s why!” 

Out of frustration and out of patience, I resort to unilateral parental authority and the conversation ends. I have spoken. It works — but only for a short while.

 

There seems always to exist a segment of society that believes the authoritative word is all that is needed. Someone needs to be in charge. Someone needs to establish the place for everything and everyone. An example of this in the church is when 
we confront the issue of children and youth in worship. I frequently hear that if children would just sit in church they eventually will want to be there.

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But this question “Why?” keeps occurring. Recently, it seems more frequent and more complicated. Those of us designated
as the experts, paid to respond to the ques- tions, get worn down from being asked so often. But the question demands and deserves an answer.

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This question and the answer are one of faith and survival for the whole Christian community. It touches the core of our existence: it has to do with our human relationships, our belonging together. It has to do with our beliefs in what God intends for
the human community.

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Whether as ministers, parents or adult members of a local congregation, we all arc responsible for the children to whom we made promises at baptism.

There is no special trick to communicating with youth. It only takes time and sincere caring. It isn’t just scheduling youth group from 7-9 p.m. on Sunday night and hiring someone else to be there. It doesn’t mean operating youth ministry as an entertainment industry filled with roller skating, skiing, and volleyball. It is church members who talk with youth, know their
names, care about their plans, their ideas and their fears.

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It means recognizing that teenagers ache as much as adults for some substantive discussions that encourage believing. It doesn’t mean making a spectacle out of them, setting aside one Sunday a year, letting them do whatever they want.

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It does mean knowing that teen-agers also ache for a sense of belonging and need to be included all year in the whole range of
church life.

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Superficially, a group can look great. It can be a big group having loads of fun — for a while. Then comes commissioning day or graduation day. Unwittingly, we program our youth to believe that that day signifies the end of church life.

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Where did we allow them to grow in their ability and desire to believe and belong? Where did they get a glimmer that believing and belonging was not a numbers game? When were they able to grow in grace and hold fast to that which is good?

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Believing and belonging include allowing for, encouraging and answering the question “Why?” The question “Why?” is the spark of interest a teen-ager shows. Questioning is the gift children and youth bring to the faith community. It is the “teachable  moment” when adults are invited to talk about what they believe and how they belong.

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During the last Holy Week, our congregation held a seder service on Maundy Thursday. I was struck by the way the liturgy had incorporated the question “Why?”

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“Why is this night different Why do we eat this... Why do we do that...” The response to each “Why?” is not, “Because we’ve always done it that way,” but the powerful re-telling of God’s having acts.

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The faith story is retold. The faith community is reminded of its beginnings, its grounding in God’s faithful love. We are to be about the task of responding to the “Why?” of faith. And in responding, we will be encouraging believing and belonging.

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The expectation is that this will happen in the church. If not there, where else? Every person, even a teen-ager, comes to a  church searching for a deeper spiritual grounding in their lives. They depend on that church to be their community, to support  their spiritual growth, to speak about their spiritual needs and maybe even to give them a push.

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As for resorting to responses like “Because I’m the mommy, that’s why!,” it is important to keep in mind that it only works for a while. It can never form the basis of believing or belonging — to a family or to a church.

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Taking the time to retell the story of believing and belonging — this is what is lasting.

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ROSEMARY C. MITCHELL, 121N. Fitzhugh St, Rochester, N.Y. 14614, Guest Editorial in The Presbyterian Outlook,  3/14/1988

 

 

TEMPTATION - STONES TO BREAD

First Temptation
By William R. Leety, Contributing Editor

Don't they know I know that all the social service agencies downtown close at 5 o'clock Friday afternoon? Don't they know I've heard it before, all of it, time after time? It comes with city living, American living: "Every place is closed and I need a meal. Just got to town. I found a place to stay, but I haven't eaten since morning. Can you spare dinner money?" Surely they all know that though a meal may be given, money will not. Surely they know the test of honesty is whether they accept the meal or hold out  for cash. A person who doesn't want to contribute to the addiction epidemic is cautious about giving cash instead of meals or services.

 

So he stands there on the porch, just at the edge of darkness. He wants a miracle: stones to bread. Oh, there's something of a trade or transaction. He gets dinner. I get joy in helping a brother in the human family. It's the old temptation (Matthew 4:1-4): stones into bread, stoneface into the contours of compassion. Nationally and internationally it's the miracle of guns to butter, M-16s to margarine, missiles to minestrone. That other brother, Jesus, resisted the temptation, sealing his resistance with the words, "Humanity doesn't live by bread alone. ..Others who want to withhold EVEN bread have misquoted: "Humanity doesn't live by bread." The well-intentioned who withhold bread have said, "Humanity does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Unless they can give the word, they also refuse to give the bread. Beggars of bread who refuse the word are told, "If you will not take the word, you will not share our loaves."

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He stands there on the porch. With a filthy handkerchief he dabs at a bleeding sore alongside his nose. Does he think he can so easily manipulate my sympathies? Does he want me to ask whether he's had a fight? Does he realize that Friday at dinnertime I am tempted to turn stones into bread for him for all the wrong reasons? I want to get on with my own family meal. It's been a long enough day already. For a moment I consider offering cash, perhaps contributing to the addiction epidemic, just to be free of these large and complicated questions raised by his presence.

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I hate Charles Dickens! I would tell him poverty isn't noble or pretty on the porch as it is in a novel. The man wants a miracle and I want a miracle: stones into bread. And Jesus says, "Man [woman] doesn't live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Jesus would not turn stones to loaves. But those loaves were for his own hunger. Would Jesus have me be a word to the man on the porch? And bread to the man on the porch? Could Jesus miraculously change me from stone to bread, from stone to word?
    
William R. Leety is pastor, Covenant church, Scranton, PA. This Lenten series is based on the lectionary texts. In the Presbyterian Outlook, 2/26/1990

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THANKSGIVING

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The quality of our Thanksgiving this year, as any year, may depend on what has happened to us in the recent past. Think of that as the small picture. Or it may depend on our concern for what is happening in the world around us and what may happen in the future. Think of that as the medium-sized picture. Or our Thanksgiving may be grounded in faith in a loving God who is the origin of it all. That's the big picture.

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Being Christian means being concerned with all of these things, but when the time comes for Thanksgiving we're safest with the big picture. ...when I got to the bit about being concerned with ourselves as the small picture, the world as the medium-sized picture, and God as the big picture, an illustration immediately hit, but it seemed awfully mundane. Still, it kept coming back to me.

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Go to a movie theater and there behind the concession stand you'll usually see three drink cups. There's the "small size" which looks like a paper finger bowl and the "medium size" which looks like it was designed for normal thirsty people and the "large size" which looks like you could water ski in it. And most of the time there's a red arrow by the "large size" which says? "Best value." Well, it's not a very profound way to finish a sermon . . . but when we choose the size of the picture we'll focus on when we decide whether we have anything to be thankful for this year, it's true. The God of the big picture is the best value. Amen.

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Preached by Jack Kurtz in his sermon, "The Spatial and Temporal Context of Thanksgiving," on 11/18/1990 at Bush Hill Presbyterian Church, Alexandria, VA

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THANKSGIVING - GIVING THANKS

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THE CALVERT INDEPENDENT—Wednesday, November 21,1990
It's Worth a Thought Column

Who Should We Thank
By JOHN A. BASH

 

A very concerned mom called me the other day. "They won’t even say who the Pilgrams thanked at the first Thanksgiving!" she said. 

 

The "they" was referring to her child’s school. She continued, "They are giving the children the impression that the Pilgrims were
thanking the Indians!" I found this notion rather preposterous, but I know mom well. She is a credible source I have come to respect. Her concern was not out of self-righteous indignation. She was concerned that the religious "neutrality forced on public
schools has turned into religious distortion. I think a good case could be made for that view, but I didn't push it at the time.

When I got off the phone I started thinking about the historical facts around her concern. Who was getting thanked at what has become known as the first Thanksgiving? It didn't take me long to realize that the question has at least three answers.

The most obvious answer is that the Pilgrims were thankful to the God of the Bible. To miss this point would be to miss the whole identity of the Pilgrims. These people had sacrificed a lot for their beliefs.

The second answer would be that the Indians were thankful to their god (little "g"), probably the god of the harvest. Some thanks
might also have been given to the rain god and the sun god while they were at it. Whatever the case, they knew that the cause of the provisions that day was beyond themselves.

A third answer to who was getting thanks that day is the people present. The spirit of Thanksgiving is one that starts by looking up and carries over when we look around. I am sure that the Pilgrims were thankful not to have Indians shooting arrows at them
and they also provided such nice center-pieces with the multi-colored com. The Indians were thankful to the Pilgrims for what they brought that day.

The truth of the matter with all this is that we don't have a very precise view of the first Thanksgiving. It has been established in
our tradition and romanticized a lot. We think of a lady in black saying, "Why didn’t you bring me a Butterball?" We think of football games and indigestion. We ponder over problems like lumps in the gravy anyhow, and uncle Harvey's drinking.

We might do well this year to consider not only who was being thanked at the first Thanksgiving, but who is being thanked at your Thanksgiving. Every time I see a sunset I feel sorry for the atheist. He doesn't have anyone to thank.

What about you? Who will you thank? Will you have the wisdom to see past the small answers to the Big Answer? Will you remember the truth behind the children's prayer: "God is great, God is good. Let us thank Him for this food?

If that happens you may experience a change in attitude when you look around. God uses people too. Watch them smile as you thank them from your heart this Thanksgiving.

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John A Bash is pastor of Chesapeake Presbyterian Church in Sunderland, MD.

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THANKSGIVING STORY

A story for the holiday by Garrison Keillor

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It has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon.

 

Thanksgiving was Thursday, a cold, gray, windy day and the Thanksgiving service at the Lutheran church was packed, to Pastor Ingq vist’s great surprise. He expected a small turnout like last year's and hadn't
prepared a complete sermon, only a couple of index cards, one with the text from the Psalms and the other only said, "Conclusion."

 

He sat thinking hard through the opening hymns. Halfway into the reading from Ecclesiastes the fire siren went off two blocks away and everyone who had left a turkey in the oven sat up straight in their pews and had a vision of flames engulfing their home and the roof collapsing in a shower of sparks. All the firefighters jumped up and left and came back a minute later: It was nothing. Bud had accidentally jostled the siren switch while reaching back into the joists for something. 

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Time for the sermon. It was a nervous and turbulent sermon, he felt, with a bumpy landing due to the loss of one engine, but afterward people shook his hand and said it was one of the finest they ever heard. Beautiful. Do you have a transcript of that? some people asked. He thought, You got to be kidding, but the Lutherans of Lake Wobegon don’t use much irony, like they don’t use much curry powder: some, not a lot. There stood the tall, slope-shouldered pastor in humiliation for a performance that one person after another said was wonderful.

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Clarence Bunsen wasn’t in church. Arlene went, but the mister stayed home because he wasn’t very thankful. He got up that morning  and stepped on a screw and tried to levitate off it and strained his back. His back didn’t go  out but it felt weak. He didn’t want to slip in the bathtub so he took a bath instead of a shower and felt like an old vet at the Vets Hospital, and climbing out he slipped and strained his back again, another part. While be was combing his hair a clump came out from the bunch that he’s been combing across the top in hopes it would take bold. He came down to the kitchen feeling that life had turned against him.

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Arlene said, “Have a cup of coffee, that’ll perk you up,” and usually that’s all a Norwegian needs. Norwegians have often been

revived by this method, including some whose EKG showed a flat line — a sip of coffee on their lips and the pen jumped. Clarence felt like coffee wouldn’t make much difference. He didn’t tell Arlene that he’d talked to daughter Barbara Ann on the phone Wednesday night. She was going on and on about this, that and the other thing, and suddenly be had a premonition that the real reason she was coming home for Thanksgiving was to make an important announcement, of her divorce. She and Bill, married for 10 years, the poor thing. He could understand, he always knew that Bill wasn’t good for her, he didn’t have Barbara Ann’s undying enthusiasm, he was too serious, worked too hard and earned far too much money.

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Clarence could understand her Unhappiness - not that she said anything, she didn’t, it was what she didn't say. He wanted to stay home from church and be alone. One other thing: One day in October Arlene had  said, "How about we go to Minneapolis for Thanksgiving and stay at the Curtis and have the buffet in the Cardinal Room? I hear it's fabulous." And Clarence said, "Naw, let's stay home.  If you're tired of making dinner, I'll do it." He heard himself say these words and heard her say, "Fine. Good. We'll stay home and you make the dinner." One more reason he didn't go to church.

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Another was his fireplace, recently repaired by a man from Los Angeles named Curtis Olson. Byron recommended him as a man who knew about fireplaces and chimneys, but when Olson left, Byron said, "No, I was only  repeating what others had said. I forget who they were, but they said he was pretty good." Clarence didn't want to see Byron for awhile, and Byron would be at church.

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Olson came with full-color brochures about fireplace inserts and how for a low sum you could have a liner put in the chimney, guarding against chimney fire and  improving the efficiency of fireplace and furnace by 50% to 70%. He installed a unit at Clarence's and suddenly a fireplace that had worked pretty well started to go to hell. Smoke poured out into the living room and 
the heat went up the chimney. And there was $700 gone. Thanksgiving morning Clarence built a small fire in the fireplace with an electric fan on the hearth to push the smoke up the chimney. He hear the door open and a familiar voice said, "Hi, Daddy," and there she was:  (Barbara Ann) - tall, lovely. He put his arms around her and had to go to the kitchen. Norwegian men cry privately and dab cold coffee on their eyes to get the redness out. Poor child. Thirty-four, about to be alone in the world.

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He cooked. Basted the turkey, boiled yams, peeled potatoes, checked the pumpkin pie in the over - 30 minutes, 30, 45,
an hour, still it wasn't done. Then the crust caught on fire. He chipped off that part. The house smelled of smoke but he was doing pretty well. That's what Arlene said too as she cruised through the room from time to time:  "You're doing awfully well, dear. I'm proud of you. Are you boiling those potatoes here? Then you probably want to put some water in the pot - ah, the turkey smells good. Mmmmmm. Want me to put some aluminum over it? It's up to you, but in a 400-degree over it might scorch after a while."

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It was hard but far from impossible, and it felt good to cook and be in charge and not sit as he had for years in the living room with a silent son-in-law, saying, "Well, Bill, how's the real-estate business?" "Oh, not bad." Well, that took care of 15 seconds, a couple hours more and we can wrap it up. He cooked and cooked, waiting for the news to drop, rehearsing his calm reaction. ("Well, kids, that's your decision. I can't say that I approve but I certainly can sympathize. Arlene and I have been together for 40 years but there have been times...") Then she told him. She said, "We have an announcement. We're going to have a baby. In April."

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He almost said, "Well, kids, that's your decision. I certainly can sympathize. Arlene and I have been together for 40 years but there have been times..." and then the happy news dawned on him and tears came to his eyes and he had to blow his nose.

The happy news lit up the afternoon. An unseen child in the house with them, a child seeping inside his daughter. It was a quite
happy dinner and a quiet afternoon washing dishes. Arlene took a nap, Clarence washed, Barbara Ann dried.

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"I remember when I knew that your mother was expecting you. It was right around the beginning of July. A hot beautiful day. I 
felt so good I walked downtown in my undershirt and bought a panatela cigar and smoked it standing on the corner of Ralph's,
and then I walked up to the Co-op and bought four rockets and took them down to the swimming beach and stuck 'em in the 
gravel and shot 'em off, one, two, three, four, way out over the lake. Gosh, that was a day."

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Bill decided he'd like to go for a long walk. Clarence and Barbara Ann were in the kitchen when she felt a pain.

"Mmhhh," she said.
"What?"
"Nothing, a pain in the side. Mmmhhh."
"Let's go," he said. "I'll get your coat."
"No, it's not that. It'll go away."
"Let's go. Now. I'll get the car out of the garage."
"Daddy, believe me. It's not that."
"Honey, there no sense in taking a chance. Let's go."

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And they went, but backing out of the driveway he heard the foolishness of those words, no sense in taking a chance. What else is having a baby about if not taking a  chance? They headed for the Saint Cloud Hospital, but she felt better  and the sun was setting, the pain was gone, so instead they drove to Saint John's and back. What a fine  chance to take.

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A lot of cars headed south from town, foreign card going back to life in the city that he did not understand: silent fathers, exhausted mothers, children sitting happily and politely with little headphones on their heads. We took a chance when we produced these people and it looks as if we'll have to wait a little longer to see how it comes out.

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And that's the news from Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, the men good-looking, and all the children are above average.

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Copyright 1987 by Garrison Keilor. Excerpted from "Leaving Home"

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THIRD PLACES

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I first heard the phrase “third place” in a coffee shop in Waco, Texas. I was in town for a conference and having coffee with my friend Beau, a sociology professor. We were discussing the history of coffee shops (as wonky academics are inclined to do) when he dropped the phrase “third place.” 

“Wait a minute,” I said.. “What is a third place?”

Beau mentioned Ray Oldenburg’s books The Great Good Place and Celebrating the Third Place, which were published more than 30 years ago. In them, he classifies home as one’s first place, work as one’s second place, and the third place as where one goes to socialize, to make friends.

Social media and smartphones have taken over our lives in ways nobody could have imagined at that time. Work has also changed, with many more people working from home or, at least, taking work with them wherever they go. The distinction between home and work that defined first and second places has been blurred, and that makes third places even harder to define. Does it even make sense to define types of places by their function when technology has made it possible to do almost anything anywhere?

One thing hasn’t changed in the last 30 years, however, and that is the need for human connection. These days there is more appreciation for the depth of that need, and many more social scientists are studying the ways in which that need is expressed, satisfied, or frustrated. 

But we also have more than 2,000 years of literature addressing the topic. The centrality of love and friendship to our lives has always been a concern of philosophers, poets, novelists, and dramatists. The need that underlies our longing for third places isn’t new; what is new is the challenge technology has presented to us as we try to satisfy that need. Third places — such as  churches. The centrality of love and friendship to our lives has always been a concern of philosophers, poets, novelists, and dramatists. sporting events, cafes, and libraries — are a key to cultivating friendship in a world that is increasingly socially fragmented.

Third places are not remnants of a bygone age. They are just rarer than they used to be, and that is why it is important to look more closely at them. The first step is simply recognizing what a third place is, and for this there is no better source than Oldenburg himself, a sociologist who studied urban life and described their characteristics in his books.

The first characteristic is that third places are neutral ground. People are free to come and go, and nobody has the responsibilities of the host or the obligations of the guest. This creates conditions in which people can meet as equals, which is the second characteristic of third places. People who occupy very different social or professional roles find it quite natural to come together in third places. This makes it very different from the workplace, which is generally hierarchical in structure. Whereas the workplace tends to emphasize status, it is irrelevant in third places. What matters more is personality. "

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The lack of status means third places tend to be inclusive. Anybody can speak up. Anybody can direct the flow of conversation. The agenda is always in the room; that is, what people talk about are the things that are on their minds, not just what one person thinks is important. As a result, such places are animated by lively conversation, which is the third characteristic. Storytelling, joking, and playful banter are the norm.

 

Another characteristic of third places is their accessibility. They are easy to get to and one can count on them being open. They are the type of place one is free to drop in at any time. They don’t require planning or appointments ora great deal of travel.

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The fifth characteristic is that there are “regulars” who show up consistently and give a place its unique personality. This personality comes from the people who inhabit the place and from their friendly relations with one another. A coffee shop inhabited by individuals silently engrossed in their phones or laptops is no more a third place than a large public restroom with several stalls. Another, perhaps incidental, characteristic is that third places tend to be rather ordinary. They are not unusually
expensive or fashionable but have a predictably low profile. What draws people to third places is not their aesthetic but rather another characteristic — their playful mood. Hearing regular, genuine laughter is one of the surest signs you have stepped into a third place.

The final characteristic is that the place feels like a home away from home. It is a place one goes, not to see and be
seen, but to relax and feel welcome. A third place is comfortable.

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It is important to keep in mind that characteristics are not necessarily essential features. Identifying several characteristics might help us determine whether a particular place is an example of a third place, but the absence of one or more of those  characteristics does not mean a particular place does not fit into the category. A set of characteristics, in other words, does not function as a checklist. This is important to remember when considering whether venues that lack some of Oldenburg’s characteristics — an online discussion forum or a neighbor’s deck, for instance — might serve as a third place.

The great challenge of our time is learning how to make use of the many technological advances that improve the quality of life without allowing those same advances to undermine our connection to one another, connections that are every bit as essential to human flourishing as food, water, shelter, and security. Aristotle expressed it with this sentiment: “Society is something that
precedes the individual. Anyone who either cannot lead the common life or is so self-sufficient as not to need to, and therefore does not partake of society, is either a beast or a god.”

Society precedes the individual because it is only in society that we can learn the virtues, the character traits that allow us to flourish. It is in society that we learn patience, courage, generosity, justice, and love. It is in society — that is, accountability — that we learn to be human. But can we meet that challenge? Can we develop new social structures that allow us to form deep and meaningful connections to others even when we do not need to in order to survive? Can we reinvent forms of life that allow us to flourish together? I do not know the answer to those questions, but I know we must try. We must try to do something deliberately and intentionally that previous generations of human beings did out of necessity. We must create places for the purpose of deepening our connections to others: not private places set aside from the rest of humanity, not workplaces where we go to earn a living, but a different kind of place. A third place.

People everywhere are experiencing what many experts term an epidemic of loneliness, isolation, and depression. At the same time, we have service clubs in many communities — not just Rotary, but Kiwanis, Lions, Optimist, and other organizations — that have been in gradual decline since their peak in the 1960s. That’s unfortunate, because historically, service clubs have been one of the chief means by which communities organize teams of volunteers to meet a variety of social needs. They also function as places where members can broaden their circle of acquaintances and form lasting friendships.

Recently I was attending a meeting of my club, the Rotary Club of La Crosse in Wisconsin. As a fellow member announced that the club needed volunteers for an upcoming event, I looked at all the people in the room and wondered how many of them I had volunteered with over the years. I soon gave up. At every table there were several people whom I had worked alongside, and the sight of each one of them brought up distinct and pleasant memories. It was a room full of friends and acquaintances.

It is understandable that in a world where we have a vast number of options for spending our free time, we would be hesitant to make a commitment to join an organization where we are expected to show up every week. It is understandable but unfortunate, because showing up is what it takes. You can’t have an organization without members; you can’t have a third place without  regulars — and you can’t have friendships without spending time together.

In The Land Remembers, his memoir about growing up on a farm in Wisconsin during the Great Depression, the writer Ben Logan recalls a winter evening when his father brought home a new kerosene lantern. The bright light illuminated the
entire room, and the kids soon spread out, each reading their books in separate corners. They no longer had to crowd around the dim light of the old Ray-O-Vac lantern at the dining room table. Logan’s mother, seeing what was happening, wasn’t sure she liked the new lamp. His father looked at the empty chairs around the table and wondered if they should go back to the old lamp. “I don’t think it’s the lamp,” Logan’s mother said. “I think it’s us. Does a new lamp have to change where we sit at night?”

Logan explained what happened next: “Father’s eyes found us one by one. Then he made a little motion with his head. We came out of our corners and slid into our old places at the table, smiling at each other, a little embar rassed to be hearing such talk.”
The world has changed a great deal in recent decades, and it will continue to change as new technology shapes our cities, our organizations, our workplaces, and our homes. That doesn’t mean we can’t choose to sit together anymore.

Friendship does not just happen accidentally. It takes time for relationships to mature, and the best way to nurture relationships is by participating in shared activities on a regular basis. What if the solution to many of today’s most pressing social concerns is right in front of us? We just need to seek out opportunities to spend regular time in the company of others, establishing a robust self-identity through growing and deepening our relationships. The third place is a way of life. 
 

A member of the Rotary Club of La Crosse, Wisconsin, Richard Kyte is a professor and the director of the D.B. Reinhart
Institute for Ethics in Leadership at Viterbo University. This essay is adapted from his book, Finding Your Third Place: Building Happier Communities (and Making Great Friends Along the Way),published in June by Fulcrum Publishing and available online, in independent bookstores, and atfulcrumbooks.com. 

-in ROTARY MAGAZINE, AUGUST 2024

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TIME

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Quotable Quotes

 

Love and time—those are the only two things in all the world and all of life that cannot be bought, but only spent.

 

—Gary Jennings, Aztec (Atheneum), Reader's Digest, March 1986

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TIME (with God)

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Imagine a window washer, washing windows on the twentieth story of a building.  In one hand he holds a rope tied to a pipe on the roof. In the other hand he  holds a brush with which he washes the windows. Now he may decide that one hand holding the rope isn't enough. He's likely to fall. So he grabs the rope  with both hands. That's sometimes the stance of the cloistered monastic orders  . . . sometimes. The window washer is safer now, with two hands on the rope,  but he isn't likely to get too many windows washed. He has to drop the brush. Both hands on the rope. 

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But suppose he's more like some of us. He feels like he has to wash as many windows as possible, just as fast as possible. And, he could wash more windows  if he used a brush in each hand. So he lets go of the rope and grabs another brush. Good window washer? Actually, no. The dirt ALL stays on the windows...  except for the two narrow stripes he may have managed to make on his way down. If we're so busy living our lives that we don't hang on to our contact with God .... Amen.

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Preached by Pastor Jack Kurtz in the sermon, "And Now for Something Completely Different, Part Two:  On Saying Grace in Restaurants," at Bush Hill Presbyterian Church, Alexandria, VA, on 3/3/1991

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TITHING

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Fasting and Tithing

Our Lenten Journey
By WILLIAM R. LEETY

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I’ve often thought that if a person such as the Pharisee (Luke 18:9-14) were to attend membership seminars and express an interest in joining Covenant church — or any other church, for that matter — the church would fall all over itself welcoming him. “I fast twice a week; I pay tithes on all I get.” If all church members did half so well, surely the church would experience a
revival.

The trouble with the story of this laudable church member, the Pharisee, is that Jesus compares the Pharisee unfavorably with the breast-beating tax collector whose contributions to the faith and to the church consist of his words, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Frankly, you can’t run a church or do mission very long on the free-will offerings of the tax collector’s mouth!

 

Jesus’ story points, I believe, to the difference between the church as institution and the kingdom of God. Some Christian traditions equate the two, old First church and the rule of God. They say if you’re on the membership roll you’re part of the kingdom. If you’re not a member of First church, then you’re outside the kingdom. Cynics tend to separate entirely the two. They
say, “Jesus didn’t intend to start an institution, so any such expression of Jesus’ ways or teachings is doomed to miss the mark of the kingdom.” So, if you belong to First church, you’re immediately outside the kingdom.

Historically, Presbyterians — and birds of similar feathers — have said God alone knows who is the kingdom, the true church. Membership in First church is important, and a useful sign of membership in the kingdom, but is not the only sign. Some church people are kingdom people; some kingdom people are church. All church people are more and less kingdom people. So, if an institution, like Covenant Presbyterian Church, were to point to the kingdom — even though it could never BE the kingdom or express the kingdom adequately — that would suffice. 

I’m unhappy with the compromise, the gray color that it leaves old First church or Covenant church. But sometimes, often, old First and Covenant do point to the kingdom, more often, actually, than many other institutions. 

 

MR. LEETY is pastor of Covenant Presbyterian Church, Scranton, Pa. in Presbyterian Outlook, 1987

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TOP (Getting to the)

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from Lehman Zebley, who said you shouldn't aim right for the top, but work your way there

Saturdays he used to go to the bookies in Marcus Hook, PA. Across the street was a moving pictures with an 8-year old out front. 

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When Zeb walked past the boy asked him for 2 cents. "What for?" asked Zeb. 

​"To go to the movies."

​"How much does it cost?" Zeb asked.

​"A nickel," responded the boy.

​"Well, how much do you have?"

​The boy replied, "Nothing, I just got started."

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(Zeb was a member in the1980's of the Westminster Presbyterian Church in West Chester, PA)

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TREE (CEDAR)

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THE CEDAR OF LEBANON

Published by The F.A. Bartlett Tree Expert Co.

Vol. No.2, Winter 85 - 86

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And Solomon sent word to Hiram the king of Tyre: “As you dealt with David my father and sent him cedar to build himself a house to dwell in, so deal with me. . .Send me also cedar, cypress, and algum timber from Lebanon, for I know that your
servants know how to cut timber in Lebanon.” -II Chronicles 2:3, 8

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In biblical times Lebanon and large expanses of the Cilician Taurus (Turkey) abounded with cedar forests, a number of which, although reduced in size, still stand today. The most esteemed of these cedars became known as the cedar of Lebanon (Latin botanic name: Cedrus Libani. It is a mountain tree in its native habitat, snow clad in winter, growing mainly on stony ground 
at higher elevations. Its southern limit is not far from the northern boundaries of Israel.

Cedrus libani is one of the most oft-mentioned (77 times) plants of the bible. It was highly regarded by all peoples and by the royal houses of the Orient as the “glory of Lebanon” (Isaiah 35:2). The Egyptians, from their earliest history, imported cedar wood for buildings, ships, thrones and altars because of its superior quality, beauty, fragrance, strength and durability. It so symbolized strength, dignity and grandeur that it was considered the prince of trees; what the lion was to the animal world, the cedar was to the plant world.

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King Solomon and Hiram King of Tyre negotiated (see above) for the cedar wood that was used to build Solomon’s Temple. Both the First and Second Temples of Jerusalem were constructed of cedar. There is evidence that cedar wood, possibly because of its fragrance, was also used in connection with the cleansing of the leper and the house contaminated by leprosy, as in Numbers 19:6, “and the priest shall take cedarwood and Hyssop (a wild herb) and scarlet stuff, and cast them into the midst of the burning of the heifer.” (Refer also to Leviticus 14:6)

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The cedar of Lebanon was introduced into the United States in colonial times and was widely grown at higher elevations throughout the middle south. It was not hardy in the northeast until a special 1903 expedition from the Arnold Arboretum (near Boston) collected seeds at the highest elevations of Asia Minor and brought them back for planting. Today many fine
specimens can be found in more northern parts of our country, including several magnificent examples around New York City.

 

Cedrus libani is very slow growing but can reach heights of 100' or more, with an equal spread. It is one of the longest-lived of plants; many specimens have proven to be 3000 years old. Its sturdy trunk sometimes grows to a diameter of six or seven feet. Branching takes a narrow pyramidal form in young trees but the silhouette gradually flattens out as the tree ages. Branches take a stiffly horizontal posture and are very supple and sturdy, rarely breaking.

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TRIALS-TRIBULATIONS

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Latin phrase:  "Percusso - Resurgo" = Knocked down, I stand back up.

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Years ago the pop group Chumbawumba sang it in their song "Tubthumping": "I get knocked down, but I get up again."

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TRUST RELATIONSHIP AXIOMS

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AXIOMS QF TRUST RELATIONSHIPS

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1.    A first step in a trust relationship is knowing someone’s name.
2.    Ideally, the people in the group gradually begin to like and trust one another.
3.    Before a person can benefit from counseling, a pre-counseling relationship can be built through group activities.
4.    The group leader is obliged to be worthy of the group’s trust.
5.    The youth leader gradually builds a reputation among young people and adults as a trustworthy person.
6.    The adult leader gives more to a trust relationship than a teenager does.
7.    An intermediate stage in a trust relationship is active listening, which requires reserving judgments while helping to clarify his or her own needs and goals.
8.    The trust relationship need not be verbalized.
9.      Young persons in trust relationships help themselves; the youth leader doesn’t do things for them.
10.    The need for trust relationships varies from one person to another.
11.    At a given time, members of the group will be in various stages of trust relationships.
12.    Some aspects of people’s lives should be allowed to remain private.
13.    A crisis can cause a person to skip steps in the trust relationship.
14.    In a crisis, the youth leader may need to refer young persons to other adults.
15.    Without realistic goals and the support of other adults, adult leaders are likely to burn out.
16.     A youth leader's own needs can reinforce or distort trust relationships.
17.    Trust relationships can bring problems to the surface that were hidden, sometimes making a youth leader appear to be a 
troublemaker.
18.    Group influence can encourage or discourage trust relationships.
19.     A group should be open to all kinds of people, yet it needs a core of persons who can be trusted to take some     responsibility for the group.
20.    When the number of isolated or antisocial persons in a group increases, the chances of losing group members also     increase.
21.    Trust relationships are not easily quantifiable; large turnouts for events may be counterproductive.
22.    Trust relationships within the group nourish good relationships in the family, school, church, and community.

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TRUTH

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Quotable Quotes

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Truth is a demure lady, much too ladylike to knock you on the head and drag you to her cave. She is there, but the people must want her, and seek her out.    —William F. Buckley, Jr., Universal Press Syndicate

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Reader's Digest, March 1986

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TRUTH - Full Picture (Joke)

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The captain of a ship once entered in his log, "Mate was drunk today." When the mate found out, he pleaded with the captain to cross it out. He said it was the first time he'd ever been drunk and it wasn't fair. 

But the Captain said, "In this log we always write the exact truth."

The next week the mate kept the log. In it he wrote, "The captain was sober today."

Even the truth does not always give the full picture.

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