Questing Parson

Secular Preaching?

The parson was selecting some choice meats for the week's groceries. As was his custom he scoured the meats first, looking for values. Once the values were chosen he headed to the produce section where he'd round out his menu planning for the week. Produce was the challenge for the parson. Choice meats could be sliced up and frozen for several day's consumption. Fresh vegetables usually had to be purchased in quantities that did not lend themselves to freshness at week's end. It was the challenge for a widower living alone.

The parson had made his selections, had wandered up and down the aisles selecting the items needed to round out his week's menu, and was now browsing the beverage section in search of some Alice White Australian and Robertson South African wines. As he puzzled for another time over the reasoning behind the store's place of the various wines on the shelves, he heard a voice.

“Parson, what are you doing on this aisle?”

The parson turned to see Freddie Chambers, pastor of the Gird Thy Loins From Sin Lest You Fail to Obtain Celestial Glory Church of the Blessed Redeemed, looking at him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Ah, Freddie, I'm on this aisle because I'm looking for a nice red wine to compliment the pasta with asparagus sauce I'm planning to cook tonight.”

“You drink, Parson?” asked Freddie.

“Sometimes I do,” the parson replied. “Sometimes I use a funnel.”

Immediately the parson realized Freddie didn't get the joke. He decided to drop it but was now conflicted as to whether to direct his full attention to Freddie or to continue looking for the distinctive Alice White label. Freddie helped guide him out of his dilemma.

“Parson, you fascinate me. You know, here you are on the wine aisle of the church, and I know that a couple of days ago you were at one of the Rome Braves game. My nephew said he saw you there. I read your column in the newspaper and you mentioned that you spent time hiking at Cloudland Canyon State Park. I also know you're taking time off to go to Alaska. I don't understand how you can spend so much time in secular activities and still preach the gospel every Sunday.

The parson hesitated in his answer, not because he was at a loss for an answer but because his eyes had just zeroed in on the distinctive teardrop bottle of a Robertson wine.

“It's called preaching from life's experiences, Freddie.”

“Well, I prefer to spend my time in communion with the Lord in my study each day,” said Freddie.

“You're much more lucky than I,” the parson responded. “God seems to have chosen not to inhabit in my study.”

Supplement to the Annual Report

Dear Church Superior:

RE: My Supplement to the Year-End Report for My Church

First, if you will permit a bit of self-pontificating, I'd like to point out that I, he who am retired and does not have to fear retribution, got my report in well ahead of schedule. In fact, after talking with the person you appointed to oversee the compilation of these reports, I turned my report in when over seventy percent of the other clergy, (Shall we classify them as “non-company” clergy?) had yet to submit their report.

Secondly, an observation: I have been a United Methodist pastor for forty-five years. For the first time in my experience the report asked for my church's “GCFA Church Number.” Okay, I have no idea what GCFA stands for much less what the number is. Luckily, being the experienced parson that I am, I called the person you appointed to oversee the efforts of the clergy to compile these useless statistics and asked him what my GCFA number was. He told me; I proceeded to input such. But I did proceed with the question of why my GCFA number (whatever it stands for) would be any different than the usual number assigned to my church. But I realize I could be just a grumpy old man.

Third, I regret that for the first time in ten years I was unable to report there were not “professions of faith” to report. I know that would endanger my advancement up the clergy ladder in normal circumstances, but, in my case, I'm retired. And, see below, there are more important things that professions of faith.

Fourth, please note that we have upgraded the value of our property from $400,000 to $1,500,000. I'd be grateful if this could be placed in my permanent personnel file, even though the upgrade was entirely the decision of our insurance company. Despite who may have initiated this upgrade, I was the pastor when it took place and therefore ….

Fifth, there are some data fields, as usual missing, from the annual report.

There is no line on which I can report that my little country church in 2010 contacted the Family Advocates of the schools in our county to ask them which children are considered indigent. The family advocates then sent out a letter to those children's parents informing them that on the Saturday before school started in 2011 my little church would supply their kids with new clothes, back packs, all grade and school appropriate school supplies, as well as a hair cut for the boys and a visit to a beauty parlor for the girls.

There was no line on which I could report that two of my church members made their way down, in a dugout canoe, the Amazon River and then hiked with heavy back packs fifteen miles into the jungle, in order to deliver needed medical supplies to an isolated village in the jungles of Peru, nor could I report on all the children those nurses from my little country church provided medical care.

Again, there was no line to report that every Monday night at my church the doors open to Ms. Parson's Soup Kitchen where rich people and poor people sit down together to enjoy a meal together. There was no way to report how many of those poor, unemployed, people obtained jobs because they interacted with managers of industry while sharing a pot of soup.

There was no line on which to input data on the number of times members of my church took deserving rising high school seniors to visit colleges affiliated with our denomination in an effort to lift them above their present status and to see the possibilities for their future.

I'm not sure if you're aware, but in our county there are a considerable number of elderly who are semi-shut-in. It's really unfortunate that there was no line on which to report that teenagers from my church deliver weekly meals to many of those folks, and, in the delivery, sit down with those seniors and talk, and laugh, and share secrets and desires, and different generations find inspiration from each other.

Look, Church Superior, I don't want to prolong this lament of the deficiencies of the reporting system, but …..

There was no place to report the three houses, each brick with three bedrooms and located in middle class neighborhoods, that are our “transitional houses” whose operational expenses are provided through the bean suppers and the pancake breakfast events of this little church. In each of these houses resides a single mother with her children who were homeless before our church took them into this program. There was no place to report the works of the social worker hired to work with these women, assisting them to set goals, to become financially independent. There was no place to report that three families, after two years of effort, have graduated from our transitional program, that five, formerly homeless, teens are now in college. That those three families have moved out of our transitional houses and into their own abodes with hope for and skills to meet the future. Nor was there any line on which to report that as each family graduates to a new possibility another family moved into the houses,

I could go on. There's more this little country church does. But, well, you get the message. To be perfectly candid, I'm just a little tired of reporting only how much and how many. What I'd like to report to you is: This little country church of less than a hundred folks, members of a denomination whose mission statement is: “To make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world,” have decided to not pay attention to that statement and to, instead, BE DISCIPLES FOR THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE WORLD.

I remain your loyal servant,

The Parson

Stuck In My Position

The parson was once again absconded in the corner of his favorite diner. Shirley, the server, tried to make sure he enjoyed his cholesterol laden breakfast in peace. She'd done a good job, but not even Shirley could protect against the pervasive personality of Brother Robert R. Rollins, “Triple-R” to the privileged, pastor of the Bound For Glory In a Luxury Vehicle Tabernacle of the Truly Blessed.

Brother Robert slid into the booth across from the parson. The parson, in deference to the manners his Mama had taught him, put away his Kindle Fire and took the plugs from his ears. Some, observing him, might have thought him to be reading some theological article, but, in truth, the parson had been watching the Swedish movie of “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.”

“Morning, Parson. How's things with the liberal wing of the Christian community?”

“Are you still here, Robert?” the parson asked. “I guess that means the Rapture hasn't occurred yet.”

“Very funny, Parson,” said Robert. “Listen, I didn't interrupt you to argue theology with you. I wanted to talk with you about the coming election. I thought it might be good to find some common ground.”

The parson gave Robert his undivided attention. “You wanted to talk me about the election?”

“I do. Listen, Parson, some of the pastors in the area are talking about starting a campaign in the area. We're hoping to get Christian folks to be Christians in the voting booth, if you get what I mean.”

“I don't get what you mean, Robert.”

Robert leaned forward, “Okay, Parson, I think even you would agree there are certain basic fundamental Christian principles that ought to take priority in guiding a person how to vote.”

The parson didn't say anything.

“So, we're thinking about starting a campaign around the slogan 'How would Jesus vote?'”

The parson didn't say anything.

“So, what do you think?” asked Robert after a moment.

“I think I'm pretty sure how Jesus would vote, Robert. I'm more concerned with how you're going to vote.”

“What's that suppose to mean?” asked Robert.

“It means we're both stuck in our positions and I wish I could get beyond it,” the parson replied.

Robert left. Lisbeth Salander resumed her pursuit of her enemies.

One God Series ~ Three Stories; Three Faiths ~ Part 3

A Mountaintop Experience

The parson, along with his faithful canine companion, Charlie Brown, decided to skip church. It was a weekday. Hardly anyone would notice. The sky was clear. The temperature was in the mid-seventies. The parson pulled on his hiking boots. Charlie Brown danced about knowing those shoes meant new smells, new adventures.

Up the road they headed, past Carter's Lake and on to Chatsworth, where they turned right to head toward the mountain peak. Up, up the car climbed. Finally, the entrance loomed ahead. The parson entered the park, slowed down and withdrew his yearly pass from the glove compartment. The pass was hung on the rear view mirror. At the gate they took a left to head toward the hiking trail that led around the side of the mountain.

Charlie Brown bounded from the car and then jumped in circles waiting for his leash to be affixed. Once it was the two headed down the wooded path. The wind was at their back, which allowed the two deer just fifty yards from the trail to graze without Charlie Brown becoming aware of their presence. Charlie Brown, was too busy, anyway, trying to pull the ancient parson into a pace that suited his mood.

After awhile, they stopped. The parson faced a choice: Go left and he'd be treated to one of the most beautiful overlooks in North Georgia. Go right and he'd have only a short, but steep, hike to The Wall. The parson pulled his cell phone from his pocket, checked the time, and decided there was no reason why both could not be done.

Turning left Charlie Brown and the parson sought the overlook. It was downhill all the way, with an occasion set of metal stairs along the steep parts. No one was on the observation platform with its magnificent view of the valley below. The parson leaned against the rail and marveled as he always did at the beauty of the place he lived. Charlie Brown stretched out in the sun and within three minutes was snoring.

The view having been appreciated the two turned and headed back the way they'd come, uphill. As they reached the intersection where they'd face the decision they continued uphill. Uphill they went in steady but not rapid pace. Finally they arrived at the wall.

The wall was a marvel to the parson. It stretched for 855 feet, and, if one pulled out a compass one would see that the wall was on a direct path from east to west. Long ago, about the time the Jews were exiled to Babylon, the Native Americans of the middle Woodland Era gathered here on this spot, up high above the valley, and built this wall. Today it was just a row of stones. Over the years people had stolen the stones or pulled down the wall itself in a search for artifacts. But from the vast number of the stones it was obvious the wall had been impressive.

The parson sat on a log to study the wall. Here they'd had church. Here, they'd paid homage to their deity. Here they had perhaps sung their equivalent of hymns, heard their version of sermons, offered their prayers and sought the favor and blessings of the gods. In his mind's eye, the parson could see them gathered. He wondered how they were arranged for the ceremonies, he pondered how long the worship lasted.

The parson rose from the log. Charlie Brown popped upright in anticipation of more walking. The one thing the parson knew was that sooner or later these people concluded their religious ceremony and headed back down into the valley. Now he did, too. And as he did, he wondered if the priests of that day had known the same joys, frustrations, and challenges. And he lamented that today's congregations did not, as had the ancients, made time in their seasons to climb the mountain and build an altar to be closer to their God.

Krista Tippett With Rabbi David Hartman

Below is the unedited interview Krista Tippett conducted with Rabbi David Hartman, in which he confronts God in the modern world, and the deepest meaning of the Jewish state as a sacred obligation. The interview aired on "On Being" on American Public Media / National Public Radio.

 

In the Room with David Hartman from On Being on Vimeo.

Watch Out Church, Here She Comes

Her name was Elizabeth. She'd been a member of the parson's church back in a previous century. Back then, during her high school years, she was called Hat Trick by her friends. It was a reference to her ability to score three goals in the majority of soccer games she played. That ability had paid her way through college where she'd remained impressive on the pitch.

Offers to play professionally came. She was once invited to try out for the National Team. She turned all the offers down. College was finished. It was time to get serious about life. She applied to graduate school.

During her college years she and the parson kept in touch frequently. But as the parson left the church of her parents and headed to other parishes and she became deeper immersed in her studies, the contact became less frequent. The parson had been the celebrant at the Service of Resurrection for her maternal aunt. They'd agreed to meet after the service to catch up on things.

An upscale tavern like restaurant was the designated place. She and the parson were seated in a small booth opposite the bar. The server approached and asked what they would have to drink. Elizabeth looked the parson in the eye, and then turned to the server.

“What local wines do you have?”

The server said they didn't have in local wines, but they had a nice selection of wines from the Chateau Elan Winery which was about ninety miles east of their location. After some discussion Elizabeth informed the server she'd like a bottle of “Spring Blossom.”

“And for you, sir,” the server questioned the parson.

Elizabeth did not give the parson a chance to answer. “He'll have a large mug of your seasonal Samuel Adams,” she said.

The server promised a quick return just prior to Elizabeth's explanation.

“I'm not in high school anymore, Parson. I've developed a pretty good pallet for wine. And did you think that all those times I was at your house debating theology with you and Ms. Parson I didn't notice the most abundant product in your frig?”

The parson quickly changed the subject. “So what are you up to now?”

“I've almost completed my doctoral. I'm trying to get my thesis completed and defended.”

The parson interrupted, “What's your doctorate in?”

“I guess you'd best call it religious archeology,” she said. “I've been on a good many digs in Israel. Maybe you might call my doctorate emphasis, “Discovering the genesis of God.”

“Oh my, that must have been interesting. Who have you been studying with?”

She gave him a rundown of the professors who'd taken her under their wing. A couple of the names were familiar to the parson. He expressed his admiration.

About that time the server brought the drinks and then took their orders. Each of them ordered something that included the salad bar. There, as they were making the selection, a discussion of her family began. It continued back to the booth and until the time the server returned to deliver their entree. Elizabeth then talked about Ms. Parson and how she wished she'd learned the art of stained glass from her.

“Thanks for sending me one of her works, Parson. It's hanging in window of my living room. I think about her every day.”

They shared stories of Ms. Parson as they devoured their meal. At the end of it the parson, asked, “So, what are you going to do now that you're almost finished with your doctorate?”

Elizabeth smiled. “You ready for this?”

“Ready for what?”

“I'm heading to seminary.”

“What?”

“Don't get excited, Parson. I'm not becoming a pastor. That's a job for people like you who can put up with my mother. I'm going to seminary in order to better use my doctorate.”

“How are you going to use your doctorate?”

“I'm going to relate the discoveries of recent decades to what you guys are preaching now. I'm going to challenge you to get serious, to stop treating myths that reveal truth as what they are and not the dictated word of God. I'm going to be a catalyst for the church to get serious about ministry in the 21^st century. I'm going to ask you questions you have no answer to and will cause you to rethink your faith. Maybe I have a calling, Parson. Maybe my calling is to make the church professionals uncomfortable.”

There was a moment's silence. The Elizabeth smiled her winning smile and asked, So, what do you think?”

The parson raised his second mug of Sam Adams and said, “I'll drink to that, Elizabeth. I'll drink to that.”

End Time Reward

It was one of those times. The parson had picked the wrong place to sit. The round table was in a corner. The parson somehow had been maneuvered into taking the seat that put his back in the corner. As the table filled with others the chairs to the parson's left and his right prohibited an easy escape.

Escape the parson desired. The table was in the cafeteria of a large urban hospital. The parson had been a participant in a seminar on pastoral care. After the seminar session the parson and two others had taken advantage of the time to share a light meal and some conversation. In a short time three others, who had been participants in the seminar invited themselves to the table.

The parson admired the dedication of the three who'd joined. They worked tirelessly in with their congregations. Each was hard working and served as pastors of growing congregations. The parson did feel himself a bit alienated from their theology.

Five minutes after they settled themselves in their seats the parson's unease rose. “We're all excited about the signs we see all about us,” said Rex Dillard, the obvious leader to the trio. “Everything points to the imminent return of our Lord.”

“Oh, good gracious,” interjected Marvin Peppers, who'd been sitting with the parson when the three arrived. “Don't start with that end time stuff, Rex.”

“Well, the end time is up to Jesus,” said Rex, “but a careful reading of the scripture gives us good evidence that Jesus will be returning in the near future and following that return will be the end.”

“Where in the world do you find this ….”

Marvin was interrupted by Sid Whitney, the other pastor who'd been sitting with the parson. “Don't ask him where he finds it; he's got a Bible with him.”

“Well, it might be of benefit to you if you'd study the Word,” responded Henry Harrision who was with Rex. “If you study it as have Rex and Sam (he pointed to the third of the trio who'd joined the parson's party) and I you wouldn't be so dismissive of the immediate return of Jesus.”

This provoked a response from Marvin who was ready to do battle with Rex. Sid leaned forward in anticipation of needing to assist Marvin. The parson leaned back in his chair until his back was wedged against the two walls that formed the corner that trapped him.

The argument went on for twenty minutes. Occasionally, Marvin had invited the others to tone down the volume as people were looking. The parson continued to lean back, sip his decaf, and watch in fascination. Sid had now become red in the face and Rex was holding his Bible lovingly against his chest.

Rex, sitting directly in front of the parson, finally said, “You haven't joined in on the debate, Parson.”

The parson leaned forward in the chair bringing its front legs back to the floor. He then leaned a bit across the table and looked at Rex. “Tell me, Rex, honestly, do you really believe that Jesus will return before the summer's up?”

“I believe that with all my heart,” said Rex.

“In that case,” said the parson, “can I have your BMW?”

Koran 48: 4

Spiritual Journey - Sayira Khokhar - Faith and Culture from 30goodminutes on Vimeo.

Our Changing World

The parson’s plan for a day of study and reflection was detoured down a variety of byways.

Charlie Brown, his faithful canine companion, first led the parson around the outskirts of the Quik Trip, America’s outstanding convenience-truck stop-and gas facility. Following the walk Charlie hopped back in the far to await the parson’s securing of a Non Fat French Vanilla Cappuccino. The two then headed north toward their appointed rounds.

First stop brought them to the drug store where they picked up a prescription for a home bound citizen. Leaving the store, the parson was just about to open the car door when a friend called tohim.

“Parson, I’m glad I saw you,” called out Jeffery Whittington. Jeffery was not one of the parson’s church members; Jeffery was not a member of another church; Jeffery was a steadfast atheist. “I wanted to be sure I got you this a-sap,” he said.

Jeffery held out his hand and the parson reached out to take the offered folded piece of paper. Examining it, the parson beheld an extremely generous check to support a transitional ministry of the parson’s church.

“This is more than generous,” said the parson.

“What you guys are doing is more than needed,” replied Jeffery.

The parson placed the check inside his case in the front of the car, and turned to talk with Jeffery a bit more. The parson opened the rear door of the car and Charlie Brown bouned out. He sniffed Jeffery and then sat, waiting for instructions. Jeffery and the parson wandered toward the back of the store and talked of a civic project they were working on. Charlie Brown moved into the trees, nose to the ground in exploration.

Leaving the store and his conversation, the parson and Charlie Brown headed toward the office of the church treasurer. The parson was dying to see the expression on her face when he presented the check from an atheist more generous than any of his members.

Check delivered, astonishment observed, they headed out to deliver the prescription. The delivery brought Charlie Brown a reward of two hot dogs and the parson a spoken word of thanks. Following this, the parson stopped at the office of his friend, Abrahim.

Charlie Brown followed the parson into the building and into Abrahim’s office. He curled into a ball in the corner knowing that a boring few minutes were coming. The parson and Abrahim gazed at a computer screen together as the parson was given a guided tour of the new Internet enterprise his friend was pursuing. It wasn’t the first venture this rising entrepreneur was engaged in. He had established websites that were now being used through the world. The one they were studying today concerned education and was to be an intercultural exchange for teacher.

Having exhausted the talk for this day, the parson rose. Charlie Brown gradually did so himself, making a production of his stretching. As they departed the office, the parson noticed Abrahim picking up his prayer rug. His midday prayers were approaching.

They left Abrahim’s office and headed toward the parson’s church. There he checked his mail as he waited the arrival of another. It wasn’t long until the knock on the door came. Eleana Epstein, an old friend from the days his church was located down the street from the seminary, came in. She and her husband had recently moved into the area. Eleana was the daughter of a Rabbi whose life and intellect were an inspiration to the parson. Eleana placed a copy of a manuscript to a book she was writing before the parson. She then sat down and the two talked about her thesis for a while. The parson then promised he’d have the manuscript read with his comments within a short time.

The parson remained a while in the office, making some calls and working on an outline to Sunday’s sermon. And then he headed toward the mall to keep his promise to Ms. Parson to buy a birthday present for a relative. It was on the sidewalk to the mall he came across another new resident to the area. The parson smiled at his memory of their first encounter. It was here at the mall, in the sandwich shop where each was having lunch. They had discuss a wide variety of things. The parson invited him to come to their church. He’d smiled and then informed the parson that he was a Buddhist monk. Since them they’d regularly met to exchange of knowledge of each other’s faith.

The next stop was the hospital. the parson visited a member who was recovering from surgery. He was almost out the door when Alvin Simmons hailed him.

“Hello, Alvin,” the parson responded. “How are things going for you?”

“Great, great,” said the pastor of the Evangelistic Fellowship For Revealed Truth of the Son Through the Spirit. “We’re doing great. We’re growing by leaps and bounds, Parson. We’re growing by leaps and bounds. I tell you this county is changing. The Holy Spirit is moving in a mighty way. You know it’s a strange feeling to travel about this county and know that everyone you meet is a Christian or on their way to becoming one.”

The parson smiled and headed out to the car as he wondered about Alvin’s sheltered life.