Sometimes a Watched Pot Boils – Part Two

Note the difference in the final photo.

“A watched pot never boils,” but sometimes they do. “And patients never die while someone sits vigil.” Well, that’s most often the case. But sometimes they do.

This morning, I found myself watching a pot come to a boil, then reflected on a patient who died during a very brief time alone (that’s Part One, which you’ll find below). But that was only after finding myself again in the midst of mourning the loss of a friend who most certainly did not die alone.

It has now been twenty-eight years since I was called to serve The Fort Jones Community Church. There’s a lot to say about my tenure there, but on my mind this morning, watching the pot slowly build up steam, was the Elder who wasn’t an Elder, yet. He served as an Elder would in every way but one. He just wasn’t “official,” initially. He was not allowed to attend Elders’ meetings, nor was he allowed to be called an Elder through the official channels of recognition in that congregation of that denomination at that particular time.

He’d been a one-man woman for as long as anyone knew. But there had been an earlier marriage during the earliest part of his military service. The combined damage of that relationship, later experiences in Vietnam, and especially the inexorable deterioration and multiple diseases that accompany severe radiation exposure (he served on spotter planes above detonations on Enewetak Atoll), left him very mindful of his limitations, and the wisdom of simply serving wherever Christ called you, no matter what others may call you.

His advice, counsel, questions, and reproof of a then-twenty-four year old pastor in a redevelopment church was perhaps the single largest factor to my continuing in ministry there. His continued input and reminders over the subsequent years contributed significantly to my continuing in ministry…at all. For more than half my life, he called me his pastor, and he was my Elder and, I claim proudly, my friend.

The above barely does justice to him, but in this limited space, perhaps it offers some explanation for my reaction when I received a call from his wife some time ago.

After lengthy battles with the variety of damages his early experiences had imposed upon him, “He’s taken a turn for the worse,” she said. She wanted to know what my schedule looked like over the next week or so. She wanted to know where to find me when it was time for “his pastor” to help arrange the funeral for my Elder, my friend. That warning call came on a Saturday. Of course, I had duties the following morning. So, despite her concern that I might end up making two trips in the same week (and that in the time it took to drive there, he could be gone), I agreed that we would make the five-hour trip only after calling to confirm that he was still there to be visited.

We arrived that Sunday evening. He was still there. Using talents I’d developed in working with ALS, Cerebral Palsy, Muscular Dystrophy, and brain injury patients, I was able to enjoy a lengthy conversation with my Elder, my friend. He was weak, bed-ridden, but still able to reprove his pastor with good humor, even when I had to ask him to repeat with greater enunciation a particular gibe in my direction.

The next morning, we stopped by their home to visit briefly before heading back for the week’s responsibilities, knowing that my agenda and schedule were likely to be interrupted by news of his death. As we stood around his bed, though, his hand in my left, his wife’s in my right, and my wife completing the chain between husband and wife by grasping his big toe through the bed sheet, I prayed for my Elder, my friend—and I felt the unmistakable slackening in his grip, followed by the sigh I had heard from others many times before.

It momentarily threw me. I had never had someone die in the midst of prayer before. But knowing that he desired no “heroic measures,” I simply concluded my prayer (though probably more abruptly than I would have otherwise). At that point, his wife, retired from her nursing career, and I, an experienced Hospice chaplain, went into technician mode: things to check, calls to make, a pathway to clear. And then the long wait for contact from law enforcement (in some counties even a death on Hospice care requires the same attention as any other “unattended” death), their arrival, the arrival of the mortuary service and their departure with the body of my Elder, my friend. And then, the long drive home, trying to regain my bearings.

Not a watched pot. Just potted watches.

Somewhere along the twisting roads of the Northern California mountains, heading inland from my friends’ seaside home, I came to a realization. Nobody ever really dies alone. Granted, not all die surrounded by friends and family in the midst of a time of prayer. I trust that it was a blessing to my Elder, my friend, as the last words he heard on this earth were the prayers of his pastor. But as much as Jesus was with us in that moment, Christ is here, today, with every one of us.

Why, then, does it seem like so many choose to let go of the last threads of this life when all their fellow-humans have left the room? Maybe a lot of us just wait…until there aren’t so many interruptions to our conversation with Him.

Sometimes a Watched Pot Boils – Part One

“A watched pot never boils…and patients never die while someone sits vigil.” There are exceptions, though. This morning, just to prove to myself what I’d seen, I watched a pot come to a boil. But still, the adage is well-founded. It’s not something I would do very often.

The fact is, patients do most frequently die when alone. Some will hold on for that one last special visit. Some seem to remain long enough to hear the conclusion of a particularly interesting conversation. But it is in the little breaks in a vigil, when everyone leaves the bedside to see the new grandbaby, or the primary caregiver needs just one quick cigarette, or when a loved one comes away to the desk to escort the next shift’s visitor to the room…

Saturday, 2:00 p.m. – I was the one to find that he’d gone. The long-term care facility’s nurse had directed me to the room and said she’d be along in just a moment. She’d been sitting, reading to him, watching his breathing grow slower over the past half hour.Saturday, 9:00 a.m. – Some of the family had gathered at our favorite breakfast place. On our way out – “Would you mind stopping by to check on Dad? He’s not doing too well, and I know he’d love to see you.” I promised I would go after the funeral. After all, the request was made by a son just hours before his mother’s funeral. His mother and father had long-since divorced and remarried others. I’d buried the step-father some months earlier. So, that afternoon, I left the widow’s funeral for the local long-term care facility where I entered her ex-husband’s room to find that he’d died.

Saturday, 3:00 p.m. – Because I’ve trained for, served extensively at, and taught others in making an appropriate death notification, I was asked (and it seemed only right for me) to handle this one. I made a couple of phone calls to determine where the family had gathered before dispersing to their distant homes. As I drove to the hotel restaurant at which they’d gathered, I prayed that I would be able to gather the four men in order to break the news all at once. But the potential of one being in his hotel room, another in the bar, one at a table in the restaurant, and perhaps the fourth standing outside saying goodbye to friends or relatives…I imagined they might make assumptions about the purpose for my visit. I was prepared for a less-than-optimal situation.

But when I walked in, the four brothers were standing together, engaged in conversation with one another, with everyone else in rapt discussions around various tables, seemingly oblivious to my presence. The second youngest saw me, welcomed me, and asked if I had stopped off to see his dad. With just the four brothers, I was able to explain that I’d stopped by, that the nurse directed me to his current room, but when I spoke to him he was unresponsive and, in fact, I had called the nurse into the room to confirm my suspicions. “She did, and apparently in the couple of minutes he was alone, he had died.” (I try to, and train others to break the process down into seven gradually leading elements. Given the circumstances, I was very glad to come up with even six steps.)

Shortly thereafter I found myself in the center of the hotel bar, joined hand-in-hand with a circle of thirty-some family and friends, praying with them. Having gathered to mourn and reminisce together, a new grief, anticipated but still shocking in its timing, was introduced. One of the daughters-in-law asked afterward, “Has anything like this ever happened to you before?” We were in good humor at that point, so I responded, “You mean, have I ever done a mother’s funeral, then left to visit the father, her ex-husband, been the one to find the body, come to the post-funeral family dinner and break the news of the second death to the family? No, I’m not sure that’s ever happened to anyone before.”

But this morning, I stood in my kitchen and watched a pot come to a boil. It’s not something I would do very often. But I’ll tell you why in part two.

365 Shopping-Days Left before Next Halloween

How important? Think millstones & necks.

Things got busy yesterday. It’s only just today that I’ve seen the impassioned condemnations of families who “make light of evil” or “pretend that witches and demons aren’t real,” or subject their children to “the sins” of trick-or-treating. Granted, unregulated early-childhood sugar consumption has consequences. But after the first call for “wet-cleanup on aisle bedside,” most parents learn to set appropriate limits.

But today, appropriate limits do appear lacking, though primarily among Christians who would require that others who do not share their convictions join them in ignoring the children at their door, except to condemn them for their participation in the vestiges of what has been a Christian ritual. So, I offer the following comparison.

One of these things is not like the other.

I don't choose to ignore Christmas, despite the fact that it was scheduled and built upon the foundations of the Romans’ “Saturnalia” and incorporated many of that festival's symbols and characteristics. I also recognize that, for most North Americans, Christmas is merely an excuse for excessive consumption (celebrating gluttony, materialism, and competitive indebtedness). Certainly, these aspects are far more visible than the Christ Who is proclaimed during an hour or so on Christmas Eve in far too few churches. I think the birth of our Savior is important enough to not only look beyond the cultural trappings that obscure Him, but also to uphold Him in the midst of them as a worthy competitor to vain attempts to foster mirth and goodwill through economic expenditure. Therefore, I don’t choose to ignore Christmas. I celebrate it.

Fear the dragon, but only so much as the child.

Similarly, I don't choose to ignore Halloween (i.e., All Hallows’ Eve), despite the fact that it was originally an expansion of the celebration of Christianity’s All Saints' Day which was intended to either compete with or replace (depending upon whose histories you read) the Celtic harvest festival of Samhain. I also recognize that, for most North Americans, Halloween is merely an excuse for excessive consumption (celebrating gluttony, perhaps some measure of materialism, but not necessarily competitive indebtedness). Certainly, these aspects are far more visible than the mockery of demonic impotence symbolized by dressing children in the guise of frightening creatures or heroic rescuers, celebrating our freedom from the fear of evil and death. I think that God’s power and triumph is important enough to not only look beneath these cultural trappings that may obscure the celebration of Christ’s victory on our behalf, but also to uphold Him in contrast to what the demonic powers would try to scare us into believing as we hide in darkened houses, avoiding little children. Therefore, I don’t choose to ignore Halloween. And once we’ve finally redeemed Christmas, I’ll probably begin to more directly celebrate it.

I should also acknowledge that there is a key theological difference underlying two competing approaches to these “de-Christianized” holidays. I’m sure you’ll recognize my preference between them.

1. One option is to reactively withdraw into self-protective Christian networks where demonic influences are presumed to be absent. This simply leaves the enemy of our souls free-er reign over communities abandoned by too many Christians. Those who believe they must preserve their salt and light (contrasting Jesus’ instructions in Matthew 5:13-16) will likely be successful in handing over their unused talent to Christ when He returns (Matthew 25:14-30).

2. The other option is less popular, but it appears to be more Biblical (as well as more compassionate, evangelistic, and Christ-like) to proactively engage our communities and cultures redemptively (Matthew 28:18-20). This means pointing to the presence and purpose of Christ in the midst of even the most pagan of settings (e.g., Acts 17:16-34), and choosing the inherent risks of “cruciform, sacrificial servanthood” (Matthew 16:24-25; II Corinthians 4:5; Philippians 2:5-8, 4:8-9; Ephesians 4:11-16; etc.) over the comfort and convenience of our Christian enclaves.

So, my prayer is that God would bless each of us by taking away our bushel-baskets and compelling us to be, and to do, and to live where His salt and light can do the most good.

Democracy the Elusive and Illusive: Part Two – Jim Crow Meets Horace Mann

"Father of the Common School Movement"

With regard to Paul Louis Metzger and Tom Krattenmaker and their joint post “The Voting Rights Act and Post-Racialized American: Can We Vote on That?” I felt that two additional perspectives may be helpful. Here’s the second of those:

Regarding the perception that representative democracy in a constitutional republic is merely elusive and not patently illusive:

        Outside the ongoing electoral college debacle, within the boundaries of an area of population affected by a given issue, or represented by a particular office-holder, we hold to an ideal of “one person, one vote.” Yet we also discuss regularly the need for community organizers to coalesce a block of voters who will pursue a particular agenda. Please don’t stop at the next phrase, which might immediately seem harsh and judgmental, but such cynical dichotomies rely on the unwillingness and/or inability of individual voters to determine for themselves what vote to cast.

        That many are unwilling to educate themselves personally, and instead rely on decisions made by those who lead whatever group or organization claims to represent them, is well documented. The rates of voter turnout are abysmal, even when the best efforts of registration and transportation have been implemented. But that unwillingness has, I believe, the same root cause as does the inability of too many to analyze and process the information available in order to cast a responsible vote.

Antioch Hall, Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio

        The same inequities of education that prevent many from identifying their own preferences among the candidates and issues also withhold any motivation for participating through the simple mechanism of civic ignorance. While some schools require a civics class, most provide an example of something far different. Without belaboring the point, though, the portion germane to our discussion here is the reality that until we begin to raise up a generation educated in both the means and motivation for taking mutual responsibility through the ballot box, we consign ourselves to a handful of well-funded groups and organizations (not the least of which are the privileged-non-persons of multi-national corporations) who will continue to influence large blocks of voters, setting policy and enacting legislation almost entirely unrelated to the portrayals they offer in their election/marketing campaigns. That the results most often run counter to the well-being of the voters amply illustrates the need for a better approach.

But until it includes a more inclusive system of equitable education (the dream of Horace Mann, pictured above), the concept of representative democracy in a constitutional republic is not merely elusive, it is patently illusive.

Democracy the Elusive and Illusive: Part One – In Favor of Renewing the VRA, but…

…that leaves us still with very far to go in restoring functional democracy.

With regard to Paul Louis Metzger and Tom Krattenmaker and their joint post “The Voting Rights Act and Post-Racialized American: Can We Vote on That?” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/uncommongodcommongood/2013/10/the-voting-rights-act-and-post-racialized-america-can-we-vote-on-that/), I felt that two additional perspectives may be helpful. Here’s the first of those:

Regarding the necessity of documentation/verification of our participation in a mutual society:

Among our decisions to participate together in democracy, several require significant inconvenience, among the least of which are standards for documenting our participation in a society of mutual responsibility. That some want to increase these standards so as to require prohibitively expensive documentation should be addressed economically at the county level (at least in our communities) where agencies that are self-funded through fees and fines continue to wield a virtual stranglehold over most areas of life.

In contrast to this mutual participation, though, some prefer to remain unnumbered and unencumbered by “the system.” Working among some who seek to live “off the grid,” the few Anglos I know who choose not to be documented (ironically including both peace-mongering hippies and gun-toting constitutionalists) have no desire to participate in the political process. Their version of society includes an aversion to mutuality of responsibility. They view themselves as being outside and beyond the petty concerns of those who provide the infrastructure of a broader community than they see necessary. Others who choose not to be documented are likewise disinterested in the political process, except where it (hypocritically) seeks to impose penalties upon them for providing the essential services for which businesses and individuals will not employ legal (i.e., expensively minimum-waged) residents. These view themselves as outside and beneath the petty concerns of this or that candidate or ballot issue.

But for those of us who still choose to participate in a mutually responsible society, there should be clear and accessible (i.e., free) means of authenticating our right to participate. But even my possession of a valid driver’s license, current U.S. passport, and documentation of my physical address recently proved to be insufficient to allowing my participation in an important recent election.

I was recently disallowed my “right to vote” on a local issue that directly affects my personal financial situation. I must confess that what prevented me from receiving a ballot was not the lack of a state- or federally-issued ID, but having failed to fill out a change-of-address from our previous residence outside the immediate area perceived to be affected by the ballot issue. It would have cost me only the price of a first-class stamp in order to do so, but it would also have required me to be better informed of the boundary restrictions on this particular measure.

My point is that it is often an information deficit, rather than an economic one, that prevents greater participation, even where the issues are clearly motivating us to make mutual decisions through the ballot box. And that leads to my second contribution to the discussion, which will appear tomorrow.

“But the Bible says…”

I have to say it.

If you claim to be a Bible scholar and refuse the practice of hermeneutics and exegesis, then please stop prescribing others’ beliefs and behaviors. Likewise, however, if you believe that others’ prejudicial proof-texting (eisegesis is the technical term) justifies abandoning scripture’s authority, please know: your current-drifting pseudo-theology isn’t helping either.

What got me so riled this morning? In the online “Join the Conversation” section of October 8, 2013’s Christianity Today—Alister McGrath’s new Lewis biography having been reviewed—C.S. Lewis’s relationship with Joy Davidman was labeled: Adulterous. In the booming business of speaking ill of the dead, there will, sadly, be no McGrath vs. Lewis debate on the subject. But my defensiveness on behalf of Davidman and Lewis is not what stirred my ire. Here’s my problem: as some asserted adultery while others contradicted, both sides denied the authority of scripture.

The paths are well-worn, but let me try to describe their arguments briefly.

First, there were (parts of some) scriptures quoted. Some regularly sew bits and pieces of unrelated passages into a banner of false doctrine. But here the misuse of even a single portion of scripture illuminates far-reaching consequences. This morning’s textus minimus was “…and anyone who marries a divorced woman commits adultery” (Matthew 5:32b). I’m used to this scrap of scripture (nine of the twenty-nine words of the New American Standard translation of this verse—which is itself just a part of one sentence, to which the prior verse adds another sixteen words) being used to bludgeon abandoned wives into shame, or even into enduring further abuse as “their godly duty.” The public display of bad theology is unfortunately routine. But today, the person offering their opinion (in nine words from scripture, isolated from the canon, the New Testament, the gospels, Jesus’ teachings, or even their own sentence) demanded my agreement, “if we take scripture seriously.” I’m sure that it’s exactly because I take scripture so seriously that my hackles were raised, especially when I saw the immediate effect of those claims.

The practice of proof-texting our personal opinions creates mistrust in not only self-proclaimed Bible scholars, but in the scriptures themselves. The alternative viewpoint correctly identifies the faulty theology resulting from using only parts of parts of sentences (which are themselves only parts of paragraphs, etc.). Yet, in doing so, it also abandons scriptural authority in favor of personal preferences for a god who not only “shows grace to those who fail” (as I understand God’s word to teach) but, through hazily phrased divine opinions that “need to be interpreted,” wants us to “find happiness” (even if that means jettisoning our obligations in marriage).

There is a third, and absolutely essential course. Neither prejudicial proof-texting nor vague invocation “take scripture seriously.” Deepening our relationship with the God who communicates through His word requires us to merge these divergent paths, doing Theology-in-Community, practicing exegesis on the basis of sound hermeneutics, toward determining a clear answer to “What would Jesus have us do?”

Time To Shop Elsewhere: A Few Simplistic Observations on the Recent Closing of The United States of America and Its Subsidiaries.

Let me acknowledge that my perspective is limited and simplistic. I am not well-versed in political science, except where that applies to being a subject of the Kingdom of God and the attendant attitudes and behaviors He requires of me as a citizen of a secular nation. And…let’s see, what other excuses can I make? I guess that’s about it. So, here’s my relatively ignorant observations of what is, certainly, a far more complex reality, especially for those who are employees of the currently shuttered storefront that is The United States of America.

If I were to arrive today at our local hardware store in order to purchase the materials for a particular repair that our home needed, and they were unexpectedly closed in the middle of a weekday when they have previously advertised they would be open for business, then I would hope that there would be some sign in the window that told me how long I would have to make do without the part, and I could plan accordingly. But no matter how long I might be able to delay the repair, if the sign in the window said “Closed Indefinitely,” then I would make my purchase elsewhere, and go on about my business.

As I have considered why this illustration does not apply to the suspension of operations at The United States of America, these are the potential reasons that I have identified.

• First, it is possible that The United States of America and its franchisees all assume that they offer products and services that cannot be provided through other vendors. Therefore, they can stay closed as long as they like, knowing that we will all wait patiently to make our purchases at whatever point they reopen.

• Another explanation could be that all of The United States of America’s branch offices have completely run out of inventory, and see no reason to spend their employees’ valuable time handing out rain-checks in hopes that someone will eventually manufacture enough product to fill all their back-orders.

• Finally, though, there is the strong suspicion that The United States of America chain believes that its customers will continue to renew their subscriptions, allow their electronic-funds transfers, and keep up their membership dues, whether the facilities, goods, and services are available or not. Stranger things have happened.

In their catalog, The United States of America lists only a handful of products. Whether or not one thinks they have effectively delivered them in the past, the question seems appropriate: “Isn’t there somewhere else we could shop for these?” For those who skipped a day or two in High School Civics class, those products are: “a more perfect union,” “justice,” “domestic tranquility,” “the common defense,” “the general welfare,” and “the blessings of liberty.”

I am aware of at least one other supplier offering a very similar inventory. And, having been turned away from my usual source for these goods, even temporarily, I hope that the staff and management of The United States of America will understand that when (or if) they eventually reopen, I probably won’t be a customer. (Unless, of course, they run a really good sale.)