Matthew 11 

My wife and I have an ongoing bemusement with how experts try to claim bits of your time throughout a day. You need to stretch 10 minutes a day. Exercise 30 minutes a day. Cook a nutritious and delicious meal in an hour each day. Sleep at least eight hours, not counting an hour you give yourself to wind down at the end of the night. Spend an hour with your children each day. Spend an hour with your spouse each day. Clean for 15 minutes. Learn a new skill in just 10 minutes a day. Of course, none of that counts the eight hours a day many of us spend working, or the time it takes getting to and from your job (an average of about 50 minutes a day for Americans). A Google search for the phrase “minutes a day” pulls up nearly 18,000,000 results!

My spouse and I find this amusing (and a bit exasperating) because there, of course, only so many minutes a day to cram everything in — 1,440 of them, to be precise. A big chunk of them are taken up by sleep, work, and other essentials, leaving a few hundred minutes a day for lots of things that are demanding your time. Juggling all the things we should or want to do is a pretty big burden at the end of the day.

In today’s Gospel selection from Matthew, the notion of burden is foremost in Jesus’ words. His message is so earnest and simple, it’s easier to paste its 49 words than to summarize or omit: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

When I came back into the faith almost decade ago, I sighed a bit at the idea of trying to add Jesus to a life that was already jam-packed. Like the minute-counting above, how could Jesus not be one more demand upon already-busy days?

Yet today’s Gospel explains why that hasn’t been the case for me. Jesus promised to give rest to those who come to him, and he has delivered. His yoke is easy, and his burden light.

The reason is that, for me (and I suspect many others), the faith seeps effortlessly around the events of the day. If each individual task is a pebble placed in a glass, and that glass is filled to the top with pebble after pebble, then Jesus is like a cup of cold water poured over those pebbles, filling the gaps, surrounding and soaking into each pebble.

Exercising? Spend those moments conversing with Jesus. Cooking? Contemplate God at the same time. Stuck in a rush-hour commute? A great time to turn off the radio and spend minutes with Jesus. Working? There are surely many idle moments where you can say a quick prayer or reflect for a moment in gratitude.

Even those “demands” that come from following Christ are not, indeed, a burden when he lives in your heart. When I started going to Church on Sundays, I found I just woke up earlier, starting my day sooner instead of wiling away Sunday sleeping in; I ended up with more free time on Sundays, even with the worship obligation! Spending time in prayer meetings or being engaged with daily prayer— or even writing reflections— has been straightforward; somehow, I’ve found the time and energy, as other “must-do” hobbies haven’t seemed as vital. As today’s reading from Isaiah says, “He gives strength to the fainting; for the weak he makes vigor abound . . . They that hope in the LORD will renew their strength.”

Modern life is incredibly busy. I suspect that human life has always been busy, with endless tasks and obligations filling our days. And human ingenuity often comes up with new things to fill the “free time” we don’t really have. Yet a life with Christ is not burdensome in the way that other obligations are. It is a “weight” that, upon wearing it, can make the other things weighing us down less burdensome.

As we prepare for the coming of Jesus during this time of Advent, it’s a good opportunity to see about pouring the living water of Christ over our pebbles, filling in the gaps of our days and getting more out of this life than we thought was possible . . . all of which helps to prepare us for the next life.

Revelations 4

This passage from Revelations is not unlike the rest of the book, beautifully crafted, full of vivid imagery and opaque symbols. Let’s spend some time unraveling the images and symbols to come to a better understanding of what the writer is telling us and why the book was determined to be divinely inspired and included in the Bible.

The mysticism expressed bears more fruit in later centuries through the witness of other mystics like Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Julian of Norwich and my favorite, Walter Hilton. To be honest, however, the imagery captured by John has more in common with the mysticism of certain southwestern shamans who liberally utilized mescaline and peyote to and color and fill in the blanks.

Before we get started, there is another question to ask first.

“How about them Cubs?”

Back to the question in a moment.

Obviously, when we read a passage like this we are not to imagine that it in any remotely literal way corresponds to the reality of God. It is simply the use of language and images to express the inexpressible. Another way to say it, John, when he wrote Revelations, was speaking in code to a community with the cultural capacity to know what he was talking about even if it did not make sense to an unsuspecting outsider.

When I asked the question about the Cubs, I was speaking in code to you. You have the cultural understanding to understand that I was not really talking about the Cubs as much as I was not taking about Revelations. In this case the code was I was changing the subject rather than trying to climb a ladder with too few rungs and too far to climb.

Writing in the 60’s, after the letters of Paul and before the earliest compilation of the Gospels, John used imagery and symbols found throughout the apocalyptic literature of the Old Testament such as Ezekiel and Daniel to tell a story the Jewish listener would instantly understand but gentile would not comprehend.

There is one part of the passage that doesn’t require cracking any codes.

“Worthy are you, Lord our God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things; because of your will they came to be and were created.”

John speaks to us directly today, asking us to join in with the 12 tribes of Israel and the 12 Apostles and all the rest of Christendom to praise God, our creator.

Let us repeat the verse together as one.

01/17/1935 - 10/25/1966

10.25.1966
During the ordinary course of days, we encounter countless situations which impact how our life will proceed on any given day. Less frequently we face obstacles or opportunities that can impact the course of several days or even several weeks but such changes don’t often result in a dramatic redirection of our lives. There are days, however, when a single event can change everything and the arc of life spins off in a new, sudden, unexpected, and unknown direction in a previously inconceivable way.

October 25, 1966 was such a day. I went to sleep the night before an 11-year-old boy part of a family of four, counting my father, my mother, and my sister. When I woke early morning on the 25th, long before dawn, I heard the voices of my grandparents and my aunt and uncle. I knew immediately, with a now familiar sense of dread, something was catastrophically wrong. I got out of bed and went into the living room where, with my eyes blinking before adjusting to bright lights, I learned my 31-year-old father had died of a heart attack.

Nothing would ever be the same for any of us. My father was highly educated in a brand-new field then called Special Education and he held a management position with the Great Falls school district. The course of my entire life from the day of my birth up to the day he died was influenced by his pursuit of advanced education and the advancement of his career. We have always considered the job in Great Falls to just be the beginning of a long career and we have speculated he would have many other offers to move into other opportunities. Who knows what might have come after Great Falls? A federal job in Washington? A bigger school district out of state somewhere? A teaching job in a college or university? All of those possibilities slammed out of existence in a blink.

We were suddenly bereft of our leader and needed to begin our lives again. And we did. 50 years have passed and on my older son’s next birthday he will be the same age as my father was when he died. There have been many times when I paused to consider what might have been but as the years drifted by, the images of unrealized futures have darkened against the light of what came to pass for each of us. What is left is just a powerful, yet undefined, sense of what was lost or gained in a single moment just after midnight on October 25, 1966.

The most powerful impact I can articulate is that his absence from our lives has defined each of us, my mother, my sister, and I, just as radically as if he had lived beyond that day. I have learned to no longer ask how God could have allowed such a thing to happen but instead to ask what we should learn from the experience. 50 years later we are still learning because virtually every day brings a reminder of a past that is certain and a future that was changed forever.

Today I no longer fear and grieve at his absence as much as I have learned to be open his to his presence in all of the little ways that construct his legacy. When the 25th slides in while we are sleeping tonight, however, it will be appropriate to pause and remember and to consider what might have been. Other tomorrows will come soon enough.

I think I am going to have a son.

Danny's Song

I listened to Danny’s Song today for the first time in a very, very long time. Suddenly decades compressed into hours and the 70’s were only yesterday, maybe even this morning. The album the song was on was released in 1971 while I was still in high school and given how popular it was, we listened to it countless times. In the beginning, the lyrics offered hope and a picture of how my life might unfold.

Perhaps, like Kenny Loggins, I would find a good woman, get married and have a son. At least that is what I hoped for, what I wanted but could never count on with certainty. We just don’t know what our futures hold whether we are 20 standing on the first steps of adulthood or 60 and have reached the top of the stairs.

In time, I met the woman and we married. Years went by and we listened to the song often and hoped. And hoped. And dreamed. After more time a son came but left before we got to walk with him. Still more time passed and then came another son. This one became my Danny. Our Danny. As time continued to pass, there was daughter who joined our first son but then, finally, came a second Danny. We have two Dannys, two sons who walk through life with us.

When I listened to the song in the days after our children came, I no longer was moved to live in anticipation but instead felt fulfilled and experienced satisfaction from being a husband and father. Today, the song took me to a very different place, one of appreciation, recollection and remembrance. It is a good place. I have a good wife. I have good sons. They, together, are the reason I have had a good life.

People smile and tell me I am the lucky one and I know I am. We have come far from the beginning and we have 2 sons. They are free, to be like doves, conceived in love, yes, but they live every day in our love and are busy about the business of making families of their own. Danny 1 and Danny 2 are the reason the sun shines above us no matter the time of day or the kind of weather. We ARE the lucky ones.

Colors

A couple of interesting things happened to me last week. First, last Saturday morning, I brought a sweet young barista at Starbucks to tears. Second, on Thursday I saw a sunset for the first time, I mean I really saw it the way others see a sunset. The events, strangely enough, were tightly connected and were caused by the same phenomena.

Here is the rest of the story. I am color blind. It is no big deal in the scheme of things. At worst it is a nuisance. For example, there a times when I can’t tell if a traffic light is red or green until I get close enough to see the shape of the light and can determine if the light illuminated is the top of the three lights or the bottom. After years of riding with me at all hours of the day and in all weather conditions, my wife instinctively knows when I might have trouble reading the light so she simply calls out the color. It is no big deal. Neither one of us give the issue a second thought. For us it is a matter of routine and I appreciate not having to ask. She appreciates not worrying about me running a red light. It works for us.

When I am shopping for things and color is an issue, it is not uncommon for me to ask for help. There are times when I simply can’t tell what color an item might be so I just ask. I have learned it is better to ask someone who works in the store than just a random stranger. I have also learned that the color blind ask for help regarding colors far more often than I suspected. Just this week a sales associate in a store told me she is asked for color assistance just about every day. So I am not alone.

My colorblindness is a source of amusement for coworkers, friends and family. Some people don’t understand colorblindness. They think I don’t see any color and I live in a grayscale world. The term “color blind” is deceiving. I can see colors well enough. It just can’t tell some of them part sometimes. Other colors I can never tell apart. Like I said, it is really no big deal. I have learned to manage my wardrobe to avoid mistakes but if you really want to mess me up, cut off the tags on which I have written the color and I won’t be able to tell red from green from brown.

Since I have been color blind my entire life I really don’t feel like there is anything wrong with me. There are no special rules to help the color blind. No accommodations to help us get through life such as changing traffic signals from red and green to blue and red since most of those who are color blind would easily be able to discriminate between blue and red much more easily. I would think it would be silly to lobby for color blindness to be considered a disability.

I never really considered what it would be like if I could change I how I see the world by seeing colors the way the rest of world see it. I just don’t see color blindness being like true blindness, deafness, limited mobility or physical limitations. I am not handicapped. I am certainly not defective. I might be a touch defensive. Just a touch.

The world began to change Christmas day when my uncle talked about seeing videos on the internet of people putting on some special glasses which supposedly correct colorblindness. Some of the videos depicted people, mostly men, being overwhelmed by the experienced and actually breaking down emotionally seconds after putting on a pair of magic glasses. We talked about the subject for a while but then I forgot all about for a few days. On New Year’s Day, my uncle called me again to tell me he had seen another video of a man breaking down in tears after putting on the glasses and seeing the eyes of his children. He told me to google the glasses and see where it might me lead me. I did as he suggested.

The Google search led us to a website for the manufacturer of the glasses, Enchroma. My wife and I spent a significant amount of time reaching the science behind the glasses and how they worked. The following Monday I ordered the glasses from the manufacturer and was told to expect a 4-6 week delivery delay. I was surprised when they arrived on Friday. Since it was after dark when I got home, I decided to wait until morning to give them a try.

The day dawned dark and gray. The sky was overcast as morning brightened and I suspect the dull, flat light would not really be the best time to test the glasses. It was not long, however, before I couldn’t wait any longer to give them a try so I opened the box, put on the glasses and went over to window and looked out to and wondered if the world was about the change. It didn’t. My first impression is that images looked sharper and the sky had more depth but I was not experiencing anything life altering. My wife has beautiful green eyes which I absolutely love. I looked in her eyes and while they were as beautiful as always, they did not appear to be any different. My heart sank. 

After having my hopes raised, disappointment settled in over the morning.

The literature from the manufacturer instructed users to allow some time for the changes to take effect. I was not expected a gradual change. I wanted to see instant results but didn’t. I decided to just put on the glasses and wear them as instructed on my ride into the office. During the course of the trip, the sun began to peek through the cloud. Things started changing gradually. Red started really look red. Brown looked brown. Pink and tan looked different from each other. The literature warned me that I might find myself distracted as I got used to using the glasses. I should have paid more attention because I nearly drove up on a curb when I realized that I house have driven by every day for years was actually red and not green. Still, as fascinated as I was by what I was experiencing, I was not overwhelmed and I still felt a little disappointed.

I decided to stop at Starbucks to get some coffee to take into the office. I waited my turn and place my order. As the barista handed me my cup, the sun broke the clouds and even though we were behind a tinted window, the sunlight streaming in lit up her green eyes. I was dazzled. Tears streamed out of my eyes and I found I could not even talk. I clearly startled the girl who, as it turns it out, is the daughter of a friend and co-worker. I stumbled through a really sketchy explanation of what was happening. The point I was finally able to make is that I was seeing green eyes the way they were meant to be seen for the first time because of the special glasses I was wearing. In the next instant she also teared up. The two other baristas behind the counter came over. One had dazzling blue eyes. I teared up again. I could not help it. It just happened. In a few moments all three of them were crying with me.

I am still getting used to the glasses. We have had a string of dark days and we are locked into the colorless says of winter. I wore them into a store one day and I could not force myself out of the fruits and vegetables because I was locked in all on all of the colors around me.

The rest of the story is that Thursday afternoon last week I was traveling back to my sister’s home and as we drove, a beautiful sunset developed over Mt. Helena. I saw all of the colors the way most take for granted. I cried again. Maybe it was the emotion that was overwhelming us. We had just left the funeral home where we made arrangement for husband’s funeral. I could not get over the notion, however, that John, her husband had sent me a sunset to appreciate and to remind us that even in the darkest of times, we should have hope and faith in the light that chases away the darkness.

Green eyed Maggie at Starbucks served me my coffee this morning with a big a smile and question about how I was getting along with my glasses. I told her was making an effort to avoid causing tears, either someone else’s or my own. She smiled even brighter. I can hardly wait for spring. Colors are coming. 

For John........


Eulogy

January 11, 2016

Thank you again being with us today. We have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love shared with the family over the past week. For everything that has been done and for all else to come, thank you.

This is the time take a few minutes to remember John. A eulogy should be more than a recitation of the facts like we read in the obituary. Instead we should remember the simple truths about a person which when added together define the essence of the person who has passed.

There is a famous poem called “The Dash” which tells us that what defines a person is what happens between the date of birth and the date of death. The dash represents the time a person lives out the fullness of life.

So what are some of the simple truths about John? There are a few words we can use as tools to assist us in uncovering those truths.

The first word is commitment. John was committed to his family, first in time he was committed to his parents and also his sister Lesley. John was committed to Marcia as a friend, a partner and a spouse, and then he was committed to his children, Jackson and Jessica. He was also committed to the family he married into and we, in turn, were committed to him.

So what did commitment look like to John? It looked like vacationing with Marcia, whether the trips were to distant places like San Francisco or Seattle or perhaps just enjoying a leisurely canoe trip down a nearby river. Commitment looked like attending every one of Jackson’s baseball games he possibly make and he was committed to the point of often keeping score. Now that is something which really demands commitment.

Commitment looked like following Jessica from one dance event to another so he could be with her and watch while she did what she loves to do best.

Commitment was being willing to travel near and far for family events. We should remember sitting on the shore of Lake McDonald visiting and laughing together. Meanwhile our children attempted to throw every rock on the beach back out into deep water as part of a grand rock skipping contest. Our last memory of a family gathering with John will be this past Christmas. It was a very sweet day and it was so unexpected.

As I look around I see many faces who remind me of other truths. John was committed to his profession. For John to be a lawyer was to have achieved his highest vocational calling. He truly loved the law and those who knew him as a lawyer respected and admired him greatly whether the person was a partner, ally or an opponent. He was a great man and he was a great lawyer who showed us how to be an extraordinary advocate without creating enmity in what can be a bitterly adversarial occupation

There a number of other words which describe the dash between the dates we should touch upon.

Kindness.

Patience

Gentleness. He always spoke gently, both in the words he chose and the tone he used while speaking.

Wise. He was often the smartest man in any room he happened to be in but he always tried to use his intelligence to find wisdom wherever it could be found.

Loving. He loved. That is all I need to say. He loved and reveled in being loved in return.

The last word to use to describe the dash between the dates is humor. John had a wonderful sense of humor which he shared generously. If I were to ask just half of you to recall a single time when John not only caused you to laugh but also made you feel good about it, we would be here for hours.

Today is a day for us to share such stories with each other but not just today but also in the coming days, weeks, months and years. Memories are the most important thing to remember about the time the dash represents. Marcia asked me to encourage each of you to continue to share stories about John with each other and with Marcia and her children.

There is one last thing to share, something I don’t think I have ever shared with anyone but it is something I think will be fitting conclusion.

Some 18 years ago I was privileged to see my nephew Jackson for the first time. As you might expect I was nearly overcome with emotion. I glanced at John and I saw that sly grin we all loved so much. You know the look I am talking about, don’t you. We all knew that look. I just knew something unexpected was coming. And it did.

He said to me, “I think I am your favorite person in the world.”

Of course, I was enormously fond of John but it still seemed to be a very strange thing for him to say. Without allowing me to consider the statement for long, he continued, “I am your favorite guy because I married your sister, fathered her baby and made her happy.”

Of course, his precise words were not exactly appropriate to repeat while we are here in the sanctuary but you get the point. I promise you this – we laughed long and loud over that.

A couple of years later I had the opportunity to see my niece Jessica for the first time. Sharing a wee dram of fine single malt Scotch with him later, I reminded him he was, in fact, still my favorite guy in the world and we shared another good laugh.

In the past few days I have come to realize that his telling me he was my favorite guy was not just funny but that it speaks to the greatest truth about John, the truth that defined his time was between dates.

You see, John made the decision to wake up every day determined to be the best husband and the best father he could be and he spent every day for the rest of his life doing just that.

This is the great truth that gives all of the other simple truths meaning and purpose. If a man commits to making his wife and children happy, what more could any brother want?

For this brother, the answer is nothing. There is nothing more to want except, in this case, more time for him to be with us. Still, however, we treasure the time with him we were permitted on this side of the veil.

Thank you and God bless you all for being here.