The Promised Land
Stories
Contents
What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Resting Up"
Shining Moments: "The Promised Land" by C. David McKirachan
"Standing for Something" by C. David McKirachan
Good Stories: "The Wall" by Robert Beringer
Scrap Pile: "You Are Mine" by Sil Galvan
What's Up This Week
In this week's gospel reading, Jesus leads his disciples to a deserted place in a search for rest that will recharge their batteries -- a brief vacation, if you will. In A Story to Live By we see just how important it can be to make sure that we aren't overscheduled... our ministry may depend upon it. David McKirachan's meditations in Shining Moments reflect the common thread linking together all of this week's texts: the theme of searching. In addition to the search for R & R in the gospel, there's the search for home and a sense of grounding in the passage from the Hebrew scriptures as well as the search for peace and a tearing down of walls that Paul speaks of in the epistle lesson. And in the Scrap Pile, Sil Galvan offers a moving homily that reminds us of the safe path that the Lord offers to all those who trust in his guidance.
A Story to Live By
Resting Up
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.
Mark 6:30-32
An ethics professor at Princeton Seminary allegedly asked for volunteers for an extra assignment. About half the class, 15 students, volunteered and met the professor at the library to receive their assignments. The professor divided the students into three groups of five. He held in his hand three envelopes, one for each group, which contained their assignments.
Each group actually had the same assignment: to leave the library and proceed immediately across campus to another building, Stewart Hall. However, each group had a different time limit. The first group had 15 minutes, and they were informed that arriving tardy would affect their grades.
A couple of minutes after the first group left, the second group received their envelope with instructions to go to Stewart Hall. Their instructions informed the group that they had 45 minutes to complete the task. Then the third group received their instructions that gave them three hours to make it to Stewart Hall.
Unbeknownst to all three groups, the professor had arranged for three drama students to meet them along the way. Close to the library, one of the drama students held his head in his hands and moaned aloud as if in great pain. At the chapel, which was about the halfway point, another thespian laid face down pretending to be unconscious. Finally, on the steps of Stewart Hall, the third drama student was acting out a seizure.
The first group of students, who had 15 minutes to arrive at Stewart Hall before it affected their grades, walked past the three ailing actors -- none offered assistance. Out of the second group, two of the five group members stopped to offer aid. But the group with three hours to complete the journey was the most helpful -- every member of the group stopped to help at least one of the planted actors.
The professor made a clear point to the seminarians: busyness can distract the people of God from doing the ministry of God. The first group was so task-focused that they were not Christ-focused. But the other two groups, who were given a more relaxed schedule, were in a better frame of mind to be in ministry.
In the scripture, the disciples had been out on their own -- preaching, driving out demons, and healing the sick. When they returned, they gathered around Jesus to report on all the ministry that they had been doing. They had helped so many people, but now they were tired. Jesus knew they need a little rest and relaxation so they could refresh themselves for ministry, so he said to them: "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while."
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series IV, Cycle B] by Gregory Tolle)
Shining Moments
The Promised Land
by C. David McKirachan
Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle.
2 Samuel 7:5-7
I grew up in manses. "Manse" is a strange, old-fashioned word. Webster's defines it two ways: "The residence of a minister, especially a Presbyterian minister"; and "A large imposing house; a mansion." In my experience manses filled both bills. The houses were where my family lived, and they were monsters. As a child I loved that -- more nooks and crannies to use as backdrops for imaginary journeys. As an adult professional, difficulties and drawbacks tend to tarnish the manse experience.
The truth was that, though we spent almost all our time in these houses, they were our dwelling places not our homes. Our home was on Long Beach Island; 37 16th Street in Surf City was where my roots were planted. That might seem a bit strange since we only spent a few weeks a year in that house. Periodically during the "off season" we would make excursions onto the island and work on the house, painting and maintaining and preparing the place for the renters who took over in the summer and paid the mortgage. But during these brief times I had a sense of normality and of being rooted that I really couldn't feel in the manses. There we never knew when someone from the church would show up or my father would get a call or a missionary or a needy person would need a room in the old barn. Down at the shore, all I thought about were the tides and the gulls and helping my father and mother shlep stuff around.
One year my father and I took one of our perpetual trips to the hardware store. He called me over to an aisle we didn't usually frequent. He was holding a wrought iron sign shaped like an anchor. He asked me, "How do you think this would look over the front door?" They did the router thing at the shop. It said in big white letters "the MAC'S." My father helped me put it up. It was my job. Looking back on that day, I think he knew how I felt about it.
The issue had less to do with location than with identity. On 16th Street I wasn't the preacher's kid; I was David. No matter where the job took my father, the shore house was constant. No matter what pile of under-maintained lumber and stone was the manse, 37 16th Street was where we were free to be a family rather than the minister's family.
After my parents died, my sisters and I kept the place for a few years. But every time I went there, under the anchor sign, there was something missing. Last year we sold the house. I walked through the old place waiting for nostalgia to hit me. After all, this was my home. But it didn't. Standing in the kitchen, I remembered my father making pancakes and my mother stirring clam chowder on the stove. She used to go barefoot even when we were all shivering. Standing there, I realized something had changed -- I'd grown up. I realized that my home was not here at the shore. My home was rooted and grounded in my identity, and that was something that I took with me. Maybe that makes me a nomad. Maybe my temple is more of a tent than a cathedral. I don't know.
But as I stood there musing, I remembered something. My father wrote a book called Older Than Eden. It never sold more than a few copies. But whatever anyone thought of his book, the dedication spoke loudly of who he was. He dedicated it to my mother. He always called her "Ked." It said simply: "To Ked, with whom is home." His home wasn't in the manses or at the shore. He knew what I'd just found out.
That's a heritage that is mine, wherever I go. But I took the anchor sign with me. After all, I put it up.
Standing for Something
by C. David McKirachan
For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.
Ephesians 2:14
Walls are weird. Where I used to live, they put up sound walls to protect the people along the interstate from the traffic noise. Where I live now there's a sea wall to protect the homes along the beach from the sea. I have a fence around my backyard. It's overgrown with vines. I like it that way. Inside is my paradise, literally a "walled garden." Then there are my ego boundaries. I build and maintain them as best I can. Appropriate ones allow me to be a healthy fellow; inappropriate ones lead to waste and hurt.
Outside Jerusalem, on the hills toward Bethlehem, is a wall. It's ugly. It's immense. It's dark. I'm not sure what it's made of, but it casts a shadow that is more than a lack of sun. It creates darkness. It is a wall of fear. It was built because two groups of people live in suspicion and fear of each other.
When I came through one of the checkpoints, from Bethlehem back toward Jerusalem, a young girl, 19 or 20 years old, pointed a gun at me. She was an Israeli soldier. She wasn't kidding. The safety was off; the magazine was full. Until I could prove otherwise, I was an enemy, a potentially deadly enemy. I understood -- but I grieved for her on her side of the wall and for those on the other side of the wall.
I understand walls, but I don't like them. Robert Frost said, "Something there is that doesn't love a wall." I see one of my priorities of ministry as tearing down every wall I can reach, or at least banging my thick head against them. I figure God will maintain the ones that are made of eternal stuff. I can put up with the headache. But I know without a doubt that we spiritual gurus in this age or any age can't be in the business of creating and defending walls of exclusion and fear if we're going to represent an eternal entity. Our religious walls too often are ugly scars on God's landscape of glory.
We need to be representing that "something" that Frost speaks of -- something that reaches across the scars and wounds and sad separations of life to create that improbable reconciliation we hear about.
So, doesn't that sound like a wishy-washy, relativistic philosophy? Ask Paul... he brought it up.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Good Stories
The Wall
by Robert Beringer
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.
Ephesians 2:19-20
Warren Jones had just retired from a long, successful career in business. He was in good health, but he suddenly found he had more time on his hands than he could use doing chores around the house or spending afternoons with his four grandchildren. It was then that Warren remembered the pastor of his church asking for volunteers to become covenant partners with the youth who were in a class preparing to join the church.
As the pastor described the job, it sounded challenging and rewarding. Each adult covenant partner would meet once a week for an hour with one of the young people to discuss what they had both read from the Gospel of Luke. Warren agreed to become a partner, and he was looking forward to his first meeting with a boy named Sam, one of the few senior high youth at the church whom Warren had never met.
In fact, Warren was so excited about his new job that he arrived at the pastor's office early that evening when he was to begin his work with Sam. He and the pastor were chatting warmly about a church canoe trip last spring when a young Korean boy entered the room. The pastor immediately greeted the boy and then said, "Warren, I want you to meet your new partner, Sammy Oh. Sammy and his family just moved here from Korea two years ago, and we are really delighted that his parents have joined our church. I just know the two of you will have a great time together."
For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a few moments, Warren could not even extend his hand to the boy. The sight of that Korean face brought back a flood of terrifying memories that Warren had pushed far out of his conscious memory. Suddenly, he recalled the night when his plane was shot down over North Korea, how he had somehow managed to bail out before the plane crashed, and how he had been captured by North Korean soldiers almost as he hit the ground.
And then came almost two years in a North Korean prison camp -- the bitter cold, the beatings, the terrible loneliness, and the almost suffocating hatred that he had formed in his heart for all Koreans. How could he bring himself to work with this young student over the next few months? How could he possibly read the Bible with this smiling Korean when the wall of hatred in his heart was so great?
With a thin smile on his own face, Warren and Sammy went off to a small classroom at the church for what was to be a weekly ritual of study and discussion of Luke's Gospel. Warren had to steel himself for this ordeal, but he had made a promise and he would carry it out.
At their final meeting, Sammy, who had turned out to be more knowledgeable about the Bible than Warren, handed his partner a small gift. As Warren fumbled with the package, he was not prepared for what Sammy was about to say. "Mr. Jones, I am not sure why, but I know this hasn't been easy for you. I just want to thank you for spending the time with me. You've made joining the church really special for me."
Warren could not control the tears that began streaming down his cheeks. It was as if the wall of hatred within him was suddenly smashed. Reaching out to embrace this young Korean boy, he said quietly, "Sammy, it is I who thank you. You've taught me something very special about the love of God!"
Robert A. Beringer is a retired Presbyterian pastor who served New Jersey congregations for more than four decades. Among his CSS titles are Bright Intervals and Turning Points.
Scrap Pile
You Are Mine
by Sil Galvan
Mark 6:30-34
If we look at this week's gospel lesson, I believe there are two key themes. First, Jesus is stressing to his disciples the importance of rest, the importance of spending time alone away from the demands of others, a time spent in conversation with God. I have come to know the importance of such time in my homiletic preparation -- no matter how many resources I consult, no matter how many books I read, and no matter how many stories I use, nothing takes the place of reflection on the weekly scripture passages. I have discovered that no matter how wonderful a particular source of inspiration might be, if I don't take the time to make those reflections my own, my delivery will be as flat as the proverbial pancake, literally with no spirit -- because the Spirit has not entered into the words and into me.
I mention this, fully aware that everyone does not prepare homilies. However, people go about their lives every day, interacting with other people and hopefully giving witness to their Christian beliefs. But in order to stay the right course and not go wandering off somewhere to be seduced by the attractions of this world, you need to spend time with the Lord in your own way, at your own pace. That is what our Lord was telling his disciples in this week's gospel. And it is what he continues to tell us even today: Take time to get your act together (with Christ as your guide) before you take it on the road. An anonymous author put it like this:
Take time to laugh; it is the music of the soul.
Take time to think; it is the source of power.
Take time to play; it is the source of perpetual youth.
Take time to read; it is the foundation of wisdom.
Take time to pray; it is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to love and be loved; it is a God-given privilege.
Take time to be friendly; it is the road to happiness.
Take time to give; it is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work; it is the price of success.
Take time for God; it is the way of life.
(from Dynamic Preaching magazine)
This leads us into the second theme of the gospel reading (as well as the other lectionary readings). After seeking to take his disciples away from the pressures of the people (which wouldn't even permit them to eat), Jesus finds that the people have followed him and his disciples to the other side of the lake. Instead of being upset with the people, he has compassion on them and sees them as sheep without a shepherd. In this week's first reading, Jeremiah passes on harsh words from God about the leaders of the Israelites who have fallen down on the job. God has entrusted his chosen people to them. But they have led the people astray instead of keeping them on the right road, and God will punish them for this and send his own shepherd to lead his flock back from the lands to which they are scattered.
"In pastoral and nomadic cultures, shepherds are important persons. They usually are the heads of families who work at their tasks with the help of their sons and daughters. If they must have recourse to strangers, these hired hands must be trustworthy individuals because they are charged with an important responsibility... The leaders of the people were the shepherds selected by God. They were bound to observe his instructions and give him an account of their management. If the flock was ill-cared for, exhausted by too long a drive, or if sheep got lost, the shepherds in charge were held responsible. Jeremiah speaks in this cultural and religious context." (Days of the Lord Vol. 5 [Liturgical Press, 1993], pp. 147-154)
Just as Jeremiah says in the first reading that God will send his own shepherd to lead his flock back from the lands to which they have been scattered, so Paul says in the second reading that Christ will bring near the people who have been far off. Here he is speaking of the Gentiles and the Israelites, who have been brought together in the blood of Christ. This is the same fulfillment spoken of by Jeremiah, although he prophesies in the context of a divided Israel. The one to be sent by God will reunite Judah in the north with Israel in the south. But the implications are the same: Christ will unite in himself those who have been separated.
With this background, we return to the gospel. When Jesus saw the crowds follow him, he was moved with compassion. They were so earnest and wanted so much what he alone could give them. Jesus had every right to be angry and upset with them; he obviously had wanted some time for himself and his disciples to be alone. We can imagine that those who were sick were clamoring to be healed, which is part of the mission of Jesus and the disciples as outlined in last week's reading from Mark. In fact, at the end of this chapter, Mark says that "the people carried on beds those who were sick wherever they heard that Jesus was." Immediately before today's verses, the disciples hear that John the Baptist has been beheaded by Herod, have gone and buried his body, and reported the news back to Jesus. Surely Jesus was seeking some time for himself and his disciples to adjust to this news; but no time was provided to him -- the people were so eager to hear what he had to say to them. They so wanted that shepherd to lead them in the right paths.
There are several things we should know about sheep without a shepherd. First of all, they will easily get lost. They will get into situations (like cats up a tree) which they don't know how to get out of. Secondly, they will go wandering off in search of pasture and food, although they will not know where to find it. Without the shepherd's guidance, they will surely perish. And thirdly, a lost sheep has no defense against the dangers that threaten it, namely robbers or other wild animals. (William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, pp. 154-156)
In the same way, without Jesus we are defenseless against the temptations of the devil and the allurements of this world. Consider the following story:
A traveler was returning to his home from a journey to a distant country. At nightfall he arrived at the entrance to a vast forest. Unable either to delay his journey or retrace his steps, he was prepared to traverse the sullen forest when he came upon an old shepherd from whom he asked the way.
"Alas!" cried the shepherd, "it is not easy to point it out, for the forest is criss-crossed by hundreds of paths winding in every direction. They are almost all similar in appearance, though all with one exception lead to the Great Abyss."
"What is the Great Abyss?" the traveler inquired.
"It is the abyss which surrounds the forest," replied the shepherd. "Moreover, the forest is filled with robbers and wild beasts. In particular it is ravaged by an enormous serpent, so that scarcely a day passes but we find the remains of some unfortunate traveler who fell prey to it. Still," the shepherd continued, "as it is impossible to arrive at the place where you are going without traversing the forest, I have, through a motive of compassion, stationed myself at the entrance of the forest to assist and direct travelers. I have also placed my sons at different intervals to assist me in the same good work. Their services and mine are at your disposal, and I am ready to accompany you if you so desire."
The candor and venerable appearance of the old man satisfied the traveler, and he accepted the proposal. The shepherd held a lantern with one hand and with the other took the arm of the traveler. They then set out upon their journey through the dark forest.
After walking for some distance, the traveler felt his strength waning. "Lean on me," said the shepherd. The traveler did so, and was able to continue the journey. At length the lamp began to flicker.
"Ah!" groaned the traveler. "The oil is nearly spent, and the light will soon be gone. What will become of us now?"
"Do not fear," consoled the shepherd. "We shall soon meet one of my sons, who will supply us with more oil." Just then the traveler perceived a glimmer of light shining through the darkness. The light shone from a small cabin by the side of the narrow path. At the sound of the shepherd's well-known voice, the cabin door swung open. A seat was offered to the weary traveler, and some plain but substantial food was set before him. Thus refreshed, the traveler set out again, guided by the shepherd's son.
In this manner the traveler journeyed on for the rest of the night. From time to time, they stopped at different cabins built along the path. At each stop he obtained refreshment and a bit of rest, and was furnished with a new guide. With the dawning of daylight, the traveler arrived without incident at the farthest boundary of the forest. Only then did he appreciate the magnitude of the service rendered him by the shepherd and his sons. At the very edge of the forest, right before his feet, lay a frightful precipice, at the bottom of which he could distinguish the roar of an angry current.
"This," said his guide, "is the Great Abyss which my father spoke about. No one knows its depth, for it is always covered with a thick fog which no eye can penetrate." As he spoke, he heaved a deep sigh, and wiped a tear from his eyes. "You seem grieved," said the traveler.
"How can it be otherwise?" replied his guide. "Can I look at the abyss without thinking of the thousands of unfortunate people who every day are swallowed up in it? In vain do my father and my brothers offer our services. Very few accept them, and of those few the greater portion, after journeying for a few hours, accuse us of needlessly alarming them. They despise our advice and set out on paths of their own choosing. The consequence is that they soon lose their way and are devoured by the serpent, murdered by robbers, or plunge headlong into the abyss. You see, there is only this one little bridge by which the Great Abyss can be crossed, and the way which leads to the bridge is known to us alone. Pass over with confidence," continued the guide. He turned to the traveler, embraced him, and said, "On the other side is your true home."
The traveler, overcome with gratitude, thanked his charitable guide and promised never to forget him. He crossed the narrow bridge and discovered he was now in his own land. His family was there to welcome him. ("The Traveler and the Shepherd," from A Fresh Packet of Sower's Seeds, Third Planting, by Brian Cavanaugh [Paulist Press, 1994], pp. 47-49)
Jesus is the Good Shepherd who has compassion on us, his flock, and he will lead us home -- if we let him. Left to ourselves, we will certainly be waylaid by robbers and wild animals, which are the attractions of this world. We need Christ's help to find the true and safe passage, which is known to him alone. And just like the traveler, we need to be refreshed with the bread of life periodically so that we may have the strength to continue our journey. If we weaken, we need to lean on him for strength. We acquire that strength by spending time with the Lord.
In today's gospel, the people walked ten miles around the northern end of the lake to reach the spot where Jesus and the disciples would land. We don't have to walk even one mile to contact him -- he is always at our beck and call. All we have to do is set aside some time to let him speak to us. All we have to do is ask him to be present to us. He is the Good Shepherd who knows our voice, and he will come to help us in our need. All we have to do is ask him to come to us in prayer and in solitude.
The words from the first verse of a song called "You Are Mine" speak so beautifully to these necessities of life:
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear.
You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still and know I am here.
Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.
("You Are Mine," words and music by David Haas [G.I.A. Publications])
Silverius "Sil" Galvan is a deacon at the Catholic Community of Saint Mary of the Lake in Lakewood, New Jersey. He has been involved in music ministry as an organist, guitarist, and sometime cantor for more than four decades. Galvan also operates www.deaconsil.com, a website offering extensive homiletic resources.
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StoryShare, July 23, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
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What's Up This Week
A Story to Live By: "Resting Up"
Shining Moments: "The Promised Land" by C. David McKirachan
"Standing for Something" by C. David McKirachan
Good Stories: "The Wall" by Robert Beringer
Scrap Pile: "You Are Mine" by Sil Galvan
What's Up This Week
In this week's gospel reading, Jesus leads his disciples to a deserted place in a search for rest that will recharge their batteries -- a brief vacation, if you will. In A Story to Live By we see just how important it can be to make sure that we aren't overscheduled... our ministry may depend upon it. David McKirachan's meditations in Shining Moments reflect the common thread linking together all of this week's texts: the theme of searching. In addition to the search for R & R in the gospel, there's the search for home and a sense of grounding in the passage from the Hebrew scriptures as well as the search for peace and a tearing down of walls that Paul speaks of in the epistle lesson. And in the Scrap Pile, Sil Galvan offers a moving homily that reminds us of the safe path that the Lord offers to all those who trust in his guidance.
A Story to Live By
Resting Up
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while." For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.
Mark 6:30-32
An ethics professor at Princeton Seminary allegedly asked for volunteers for an extra assignment. About half the class, 15 students, volunteered and met the professor at the library to receive their assignments. The professor divided the students into three groups of five. He held in his hand three envelopes, one for each group, which contained their assignments.
Each group actually had the same assignment: to leave the library and proceed immediately across campus to another building, Stewart Hall. However, each group had a different time limit. The first group had 15 minutes, and they were informed that arriving tardy would affect their grades.
A couple of minutes after the first group left, the second group received their envelope with instructions to go to Stewart Hall. Their instructions informed the group that they had 45 minutes to complete the task. Then the third group received their instructions that gave them three hours to make it to Stewart Hall.
Unbeknownst to all three groups, the professor had arranged for three drama students to meet them along the way. Close to the library, one of the drama students held his head in his hands and moaned aloud as if in great pain. At the chapel, which was about the halfway point, another thespian laid face down pretending to be unconscious. Finally, on the steps of Stewart Hall, the third drama student was acting out a seizure.
The first group of students, who had 15 minutes to arrive at Stewart Hall before it affected their grades, walked past the three ailing actors -- none offered assistance. Out of the second group, two of the five group members stopped to offer aid. But the group with three hours to complete the journey was the most helpful -- every member of the group stopped to help at least one of the planted actors.
The professor made a clear point to the seminarians: busyness can distract the people of God from doing the ministry of God. The first group was so task-focused that they were not Christ-focused. But the other two groups, who were given a more relaxed schedule, were in a better frame of mind to be in ministry.
In the scripture, the disciples had been out on their own -- preaching, driving out demons, and healing the sick. When they returned, they gathered around Jesus to report on all the ministry that they had been doing. They had helped so many people, but now they were tired. Jesus knew they need a little rest and relaxation so they could refresh themselves for ministry, so he said to them: "Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while."
(From Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit [Series IV, Cycle B] by Gregory Tolle)
Shining Moments
The Promised Land
by C. David McKirachan
Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle.
2 Samuel 7:5-7
I grew up in manses. "Manse" is a strange, old-fashioned word. Webster's defines it two ways: "The residence of a minister, especially a Presbyterian minister"; and "A large imposing house; a mansion." In my experience manses filled both bills. The houses were where my family lived, and they were monsters. As a child I loved that -- more nooks and crannies to use as backdrops for imaginary journeys. As an adult professional, difficulties and drawbacks tend to tarnish the manse experience.
The truth was that, though we spent almost all our time in these houses, they were our dwelling places not our homes. Our home was on Long Beach Island; 37 16th Street in Surf City was where my roots were planted. That might seem a bit strange since we only spent a few weeks a year in that house. Periodically during the "off season" we would make excursions onto the island and work on the house, painting and maintaining and preparing the place for the renters who took over in the summer and paid the mortgage. But during these brief times I had a sense of normality and of being rooted that I really couldn't feel in the manses. There we never knew when someone from the church would show up or my father would get a call or a missionary or a needy person would need a room in the old barn. Down at the shore, all I thought about were the tides and the gulls and helping my father and mother shlep stuff around.
One year my father and I took one of our perpetual trips to the hardware store. He called me over to an aisle we didn't usually frequent. He was holding a wrought iron sign shaped like an anchor. He asked me, "How do you think this would look over the front door?" They did the router thing at the shop. It said in big white letters "the MAC'S." My father helped me put it up. It was my job. Looking back on that day, I think he knew how I felt about it.
The issue had less to do with location than with identity. On 16th Street I wasn't the preacher's kid; I was David. No matter where the job took my father, the shore house was constant. No matter what pile of under-maintained lumber and stone was the manse, 37 16th Street was where we were free to be a family rather than the minister's family.
After my parents died, my sisters and I kept the place for a few years. But every time I went there, under the anchor sign, there was something missing. Last year we sold the house. I walked through the old place waiting for nostalgia to hit me. After all, this was my home. But it didn't. Standing in the kitchen, I remembered my father making pancakes and my mother stirring clam chowder on the stove. She used to go barefoot even when we were all shivering. Standing there, I realized something had changed -- I'd grown up. I realized that my home was not here at the shore. My home was rooted and grounded in my identity, and that was something that I took with me. Maybe that makes me a nomad. Maybe my temple is more of a tent than a cathedral. I don't know.
But as I stood there musing, I remembered something. My father wrote a book called Older Than Eden. It never sold more than a few copies. But whatever anyone thought of his book, the dedication spoke loudly of who he was. He dedicated it to my mother. He always called her "Ked." It said simply: "To Ked, with whom is home." His home wasn't in the manses or at the shore. He knew what I'd just found out.
That's a heritage that is mine, wherever I go. But I took the anchor sign with me. After all, I put it up.
Standing for Something
by C. David McKirachan
For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.
Ephesians 2:14
Walls are weird. Where I used to live, they put up sound walls to protect the people along the interstate from the traffic noise. Where I live now there's a sea wall to protect the homes along the beach from the sea. I have a fence around my backyard. It's overgrown with vines. I like it that way. Inside is my paradise, literally a "walled garden." Then there are my ego boundaries. I build and maintain them as best I can. Appropriate ones allow me to be a healthy fellow; inappropriate ones lead to waste and hurt.
Outside Jerusalem, on the hills toward Bethlehem, is a wall. It's ugly. It's immense. It's dark. I'm not sure what it's made of, but it casts a shadow that is more than a lack of sun. It creates darkness. It is a wall of fear. It was built because two groups of people live in suspicion and fear of each other.
When I came through one of the checkpoints, from Bethlehem back toward Jerusalem, a young girl, 19 or 20 years old, pointed a gun at me. She was an Israeli soldier. She wasn't kidding. The safety was off; the magazine was full. Until I could prove otherwise, I was an enemy, a potentially deadly enemy. I understood -- but I grieved for her on her side of the wall and for those on the other side of the wall.
I understand walls, but I don't like them. Robert Frost said, "Something there is that doesn't love a wall." I see one of my priorities of ministry as tearing down every wall I can reach, or at least banging my thick head against them. I figure God will maintain the ones that are made of eternal stuff. I can put up with the headache. But I know without a doubt that we spiritual gurus in this age or any age can't be in the business of creating and defending walls of exclusion and fear if we're going to represent an eternal entity. Our religious walls too often are ugly scars on God's landscape of glory.
We need to be representing that "something" that Frost speaks of -- something that reaches across the scars and wounds and sad separations of life to create that improbable reconciliation we hear about.
So, doesn't that sound like a wishy-washy, relativistic philosophy? Ask Paul... he brought it up.
C. David McKirachan is pastor of the Presbyterian Church at Shrewsbury in central New Jersey. He also teaches at Monmouth University. McKirachan is the author of I Happened Upon a Miracle and A Year of Wonder (Westminster John Knox).
Good Stories
The Wall
by Robert Beringer
So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.
Ephesians 2:19-20
Warren Jones had just retired from a long, successful career in business. He was in good health, but he suddenly found he had more time on his hands than he could use doing chores around the house or spending afternoons with his four grandchildren. It was then that Warren remembered the pastor of his church asking for volunteers to become covenant partners with the youth who were in a class preparing to join the church.
As the pastor described the job, it sounded challenging and rewarding. Each adult covenant partner would meet once a week for an hour with one of the young people to discuss what they had both read from the Gospel of Luke. Warren agreed to become a partner, and he was looking forward to his first meeting with a boy named Sam, one of the few senior high youth at the church whom Warren had never met.
In fact, Warren was so excited about his new job that he arrived at the pastor's office early that evening when he was to begin his work with Sam. He and the pastor were chatting warmly about a church canoe trip last spring when a young Korean boy entered the room. The pastor immediately greeted the boy and then said, "Warren, I want you to meet your new partner, Sammy Oh. Sammy and his family just moved here from Korea two years ago, and we are really delighted that his parents have joined our church. I just know the two of you will have a great time together."
For what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only a few moments, Warren could not even extend his hand to the boy. The sight of that Korean face brought back a flood of terrifying memories that Warren had pushed far out of his conscious memory. Suddenly, he recalled the night when his plane was shot down over North Korea, how he had somehow managed to bail out before the plane crashed, and how he had been captured by North Korean soldiers almost as he hit the ground.
And then came almost two years in a North Korean prison camp -- the bitter cold, the beatings, the terrible loneliness, and the almost suffocating hatred that he had formed in his heart for all Koreans. How could he bring himself to work with this young student over the next few months? How could he possibly read the Bible with this smiling Korean when the wall of hatred in his heart was so great?
With a thin smile on his own face, Warren and Sammy went off to a small classroom at the church for what was to be a weekly ritual of study and discussion of Luke's Gospel. Warren had to steel himself for this ordeal, but he had made a promise and he would carry it out.
At their final meeting, Sammy, who had turned out to be more knowledgeable about the Bible than Warren, handed his partner a small gift. As Warren fumbled with the package, he was not prepared for what Sammy was about to say. "Mr. Jones, I am not sure why, but I know this hasn't been easy for you. I just want to thank you for spending the time with me. You've made joining the church really special for me."
Warren could not control the tears that began streaming down his cheeks. It was as if the wall of hatred within him was suddenly smashed. Reaching out to embrace this young Korean boy, he said quietly, "Sammy, it is I who thank you. You've taught me something very special about the love of God!"
Robert A. Beringer is a retired Presbyterian pastor who served New Jersey congregations for more than four decades. Among his CSS titles are Bright Intervals and Turning Points.
Scrap Pile
You Are Mine
by Sil Galvan
Mark 6:30-34
If we look at this week's gospel lesson, I believe there are two key themes. First, Jesus is stressing to his disciples the importance of rest, the importance of spending time alone away from the demands of others, a time spent in conversation with God. I have come to know the importance of such time in my homiletic preparation -- no matter how many resources I consult, no matter how many books I read, and no matter how many stories I use, nothing takes the place of reflection on the weekly scripture passages. I have discovered that no matter how wonderful a particular source of inspiration might be, if I don't take the time to make those reflections my own, my delivery will be as flat as the proverbial pancake, literally with no spirit -- because the Spirit has not entered into the words and into me.
I mention this, fully aware that everyone does not prepare homilies. However, people go about their lives every day, interacting with other people and hopefully giving witness to their Christian beliefs. But in order to stay the right course and not go wandering off somewhere to be seduced by the attractions of this world, you need to spend time with the Lord in your own way, at your own pace. That is what our Lord was telling his disciples in this week's gospel. And it is what he continues to tell us even today: Take time to get your act together (with Christ as your guide) before you take it on the road. An anonymous author put it like this:
Take time to laugh; it is the music of the soul.
Take time to think; it is the source of power.
Take time to play; it is the source of perpetual youth.
Take time to read; it is the foundation of wisdom.
Take time to pray; it is the greatest power on earth.
Take time to love and be loved; it is a God-given privilege.
Take time to be friendly; it is the road to happiness.
Take time to give; it is too short a day to be selfish.
Take time to work; it is the price of success.
Take time for God; it is the way of life.
(from Dynamic Preaching magazine)
This leads us into the second theme of the gospel reading (as well as the other lectionary readings). After seeking to take his disciples away from the pressures of the people (which wouldn't even permit them to eat), Jesus finds that the people have followed him and his disciples to the other side of the lake. Instead of being upset with the people, he has compassion on them and sees them as sheep without a shepherd. In this week's first reading, Jeremiah passes on harsh words from God about the leaders of the Israelites who have fallen down on the job. God has entrusted his chosen people to them. But they have led the people astray instead of keeping them on the right road, and God will punish them for this and send his own shepherd to lead his flock back from the lands to which they are scattered.
"In pastoral and nomadic cultures, shepherds are important persons. They usually are the heads of families who work at their tasks with the help of their sons and daughters. If they must have recourse to strangers, these hired hands must be trustworthy individuals because they are charged with an important responsibility... The leaders of the people were the shepherds selected by God. They were bound to observe his instructions and give him an account of their management. If the flock was ill-cared for, exhausted by too long a drive, or if sheep got lost, the shepherds in charge were held responsible. Jeremiah speaks in this cultural and religious context." (Days of the Lord Vol. 5 [Liturgical Press, 1993], pp. 147-154)
Just as Jeremiah says in the first reading that God will send his own shepherd to lead his flock back from the lands to which they have been scattered, so Paul says in the second reading that Christ will bring near the people who have been far off. Here he is speaking of the Gentiles and the Israelites, who have been brought together in the blood of Christ. This is the same fulfillment spoken of by Jeremiah, although he prophesies in the context of a divided Israel. The one to be sent by God will reunite Judah in the north with Israel in the south. But the implications are the same: Christ will unite in himself those who have been separated.
With this background, we return to the gospel. When Jesus saw the crowds follow him, he was moved with compassion. They were so earnest and wanted so much what he alone could give them. Jesus had every right to be angry and upset with them; he obviously had wanted some time for himself and his disciples to be alone. We can imagine that those who were sick were clamoring to be healed, which is part of the mission of Jesus and the disciples as outlined in last week's reading from Mark. In fact, at the end of this chapter, Mark says that "the people carried on beds those who were sick wherever they heard that Jesus was." Immediately before today's verses, the disciples hear that John the Baptist has been beheaded by Herod, have gone and buried his body, and reported the news back to Jesus. Surely Jesus was seeking some time for himself and his disciples to adjust to this news; but no time was provided to him -- the people were so eager to hear what he had to say to them. They so wanted that shepherd to lead them in the right paths.
There are several things we should know about sheep without a shepherd. First of all, they will easily get lost. They will get into situations (like cats up a tree) which they don't know how to get out of. Secondly, they will go wandering off in search of pasture and food, although they will not know where to find it. Without the shepherd's guidance, they will surely perish. And thirdly, a lost sheep has no defense against the dangers that threaten it, namely robbers or other wild animals. (William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark, pp. 154-156)
In the same way, without Jesus we are defenseless against the temptations of the devil and the allurements of this world. Consider the following story:
A traveler was returning to his home from a journey to a distant country. At nightfall he arrived at the entrance to a vast forest. Unable either to delay his journey or retrace his steps, he was prepared to traverse the sullen forest when he came upon an old shepherd from whom he asked the way.
"Alas!" cried the shepherd, "it is not easy to point it out, for the forest is criss-crossed by hundreds of paths winding in every direction. They are almost all similar in appearance, though all with one exception lead to the Great Abyss."
"What is the Great Abyss?" the traveler inquired.
"It is the abyss which surrounds the forest," replied the shepherd. "Moreover, the forest is filled with robbers and wild beasts. In particular it is ravaged by an enormous serpent, so that scarcely a day passes but we find the remains of some unfortunate traveler who fell prey to it. Still," the shepherd continued, "as it is impossible to arrive at the place where you are going without traversing the forest, I have, through a motive of compassion, stationed myself at the entrance of the forest to assist and direct travelers. I have also placed my sons at different intervals to assist me in the same good work. Their services and mine are at your disposal, and I am ready to accompany you if you so desire."
The candor and venerable appearance of the old man satisfied the traveler, and he accepted the proposal. The shepherd held a lantern with one hand and with the other took the arm of the traveler. They then set out upon their journey through the dark forest.
After walking for some distance, the traveler felt his strength waning. "Lean on me," said the shepherd. The traveler did so, and was able to continue the journey. At length the lamp began to flicker.
"Ah!" groaned the traveler. "The oil is nearly spent, and the light will soon be gone. What will become of us now?"
"Do not fear," consoled the shepherd. "We shall soon meet one of my sons, who will supply us with more oil." Just then the traveler perceived a glimmer of light shining through the darkness. The light shone from a small cabin by the side of the narrow path. At the sound of the shepherd's well-known voice, the cabin door swung open. A seat was offered to the weary traveler, and some plain but substantial food was set before him. Thus refreshed, the traveler set out again, guided by the shepherd's son.
In this manner the traveler journeyed on for the rest of the night. From time to time, they stopped at different cabins built along the path. At each stop he obtained refreshment and a bit of rest, and was furnished with a new guide. With the dawning of daylight, the traveler arrived without incident at the farthest boundary of the forest. Only then did he appreciate the magnitude of the service rendered him by the shepherd and his sons. At the very edge of the forest, right before his feet, lay a frightful precipice, at the bottom of which he could distinguish the roar of an angry current.
"This," said his guide, "is the Great Abyss which my father spoke about. No one knows its depth, for it is always covered with a thick fog which no eye can penetrate." As he spoke, he heaved a deep sigh, and wiped a tear from his eyes. "You seem grieved," said the traveler.
"How can it be otherwise?" replied his guide. "Can I look at the abyss without thinking of the thousands of unfortunate people who every day are swallowed up in it? In vain do my father and my brothers offer our services. Very few accept them, and of those few the greater portion, after journeying for a few hours, accuse us of needlessly alarming them. They despise our advice and set out on paths of their own choosing. The consequence is that they soon lose their way and are devoured by the serpent, murdered by robbers, or plunge headlong into the abyss. You see, there is only this one little bridge by which the Great Abyss can be crossed, and the way which leads to the bridge is known to us alone. Pass over with confidence," continued the guide. He turned to the traveler, embraced him, and said, "On the other side is your true home."
The traveler, overcome with gratitude, thanked his charitable guide and promised never to forget him. He crossed the narrow bridge and discovered he was now in his own land. His family was there to welcome him. ("The Traveler and the Shepherd," from A Fresh Packet of Sower's Seeds, Third Planting, by Brian Cavanaugh [Paulist Press, 1994], pp. 47-49)
Jesus is the Good Shepherd who has compassion on us, his flock, and he will lead us home -- if we let him. Left to ourselves, we will certainly be waylaid by robbers and wild animals, which are the attractions of this world. We need Christ's help to find the true and safe passage, which is known to him alone. And just like the traveler, we need to be refreshed with the bread of life periodically so that we may have the strength to continue our journey. If we weaken, we need to lean on him for strength. We acquire that strength by spending time with the Lord.
In today's gospel, the people walked ten miles around the northern end of the lake to reach the spot where Jesus and the disciples would land. We don't have to walk even one mile to contact him -- he is always at our beck and call. All we have to do is set aside some time to let him speak to us. All we have to do is ask him to be present to us. He is the Good Shepherd who knows our voice, and he will come to help us in our need. All we have to do is ask him to come to us in prayer and in solitude.
The words from the first verse of a song called "You Are Mine" speak so beautifully to these necessities of life:
I will come to you in the silence, I will lift you from all your fear.
You will hear my voice, I claim you as my choice, be still and know I am here.
Do not be afraid, I am with you. I have called you each by name.
Come and follow me, I will bring you home; I love you and you are mine.
("You Are Mine," words and music by David Haas [G.I.A. Publications])
Silverius "Sil" Galvan is a deacon at the Catholic Community of Saint Mary of the Lake in Lakewood, New Jersey. He has been involved in music ministry as an organist, guitarist, and sometime cantor for more than four decades. Galvan also operates www.deaconsil.com, a website offering extensive homiletic resources.
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StoryShare, July 23, 2006, issue.
Copyright 2006 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
