Good news!
Please continue to pray and act for God’s children who have been disappeared in Colombia and around the world.
See you along the Trail
Filed under Current Events, Friends
Something different happened when I left the office tonight. Well at least different from the previous two nights.
It was not raining. I simply note that. I am not complaining about the rain.
Places are desperate for rain. Children of God are dying, in part because of drought.
The simple reality is that for last two nights I and many other New Yorkers have made our ways home in the rain; others have endured the rain because they had to work or because they had no place to take shelter.
Tonight, it was overcast and damp when I stepped outside. But not precipitating.
This led to an interesting conversation:
When I was a child, I used to believe that the rain was God crying. That’s what my mother said. And I believed her.
Maybe, I said. We certainly give God enough reasons to cry. Look at how we treat each other, what we do to each other.
We do. We do.
We bid each other good-bye and I headed on toward the train.
And then the obvious flaw in that idea occurred to me:
If raindrops are God’s tears, it would never stop raining.
See you along the Trail.
A portion of this year’s vacation was spent at Ghost Ranch on the Service Corps. (Note that the description gets the basic gist of things, but “help in food service, housekeeping, library, museums, and, on occasion, some off-Ranch community service” is not really a part of the work any more).
This was the first time I had ever done this. It probably will not be the last.
On the one hand, participation in the Service Corps involved paying (half-price for room and meals plus $50 registration) to do work that I go out of my way to avoid doing at any of the places I call home.
On the other hand, participation in the Service Corps provided an opportunity to meet and work with amazing people and to make a difference at a place that means a great deal to me – a place where I belong – a place that feels like (yet another) home.
Weighing these two factors, the other hand wins.
Hand down. One fine day, I will see you at Ghost Ranch.
Until then, see you along the Trail.
Filed under Family, Friends, Ghost Ranch Views
In all the chaos of disengaging from Big Tent Two, I forgot that today is not a vacation day – it is a holiday. I have to revise my entire plan for approaching the day.
While I do that, let me say:
See you along the Trail.
After tonight’s meeting of the Council on Witness to Society and the World, DeLaina Gumbs and I went out to dinner. We had some plans, but as we approached the place we had originally selected, we noticed a Five Guys Burger and Fries.
“Do you want to go to Five Guys?”
“I have heard they make good burgers. But I have never been to one.”
“So do you want to go?”
“Sure why not.”
We ordered. Talked. Got our food. Started eating.
“So is it a good burger?” DeLaina had opted for another entree. I alone tried the burger.
“It’s a good burger.”
“The best burger you have ever had?” she asked. One sign proclaimed that; friends had told both of us that.
“The best burger I have ever had?” I reflected. “I don’t think so.”
“Where was the best burger you ever had?”
“Well . . . here’s how I answer that question. Memory can be a funny thing. We often romanticize experiences from the past – including food. First experiences – early experiences take on a glow and aura over the years that sometimes they don’t deserve.”
“OK. That makes sense.”
“So realizing that I may be remembering things as better than they were . . . I would say that the best burgers I ever had were in college. There was this bar. Every week or so, a group of us would go there. We would call the trips ‘2-buck-nights.'”
“2-buck-nights?”
“Well you have to remember that this was long ago.” I proceeded to demonstrate how long ago by stumbling over the number of years, finally realizing that it had been about 35 years ago or so.
“And what I remember is that for 2 bucks, you could get 2 beers and 2 burgers.”
“Really? That seems pretty cheap.”
“That’s what I remember. And there has been a lot of inflation in 35 years or so. Of course I could be wrong. But whatever the price was, those burgers are the best I remember having.”
“What made them so good?”
“I am not sure. I suspect that it had as much to do with the people – the friends, the owner, the bartender – as it did with whatever the taste might have been. At any rate, those will always be the burgers I identify as my favorite.”
Five Guys makes a good burger, but memory still burns strong.
See you along the Trail.
From the Presbyterian News Service:
The Rev. Walter Soboleff, one of the first Alaska Natives ordained to ministry in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) died May 22 in Juneau, Alaska of bone cancer and prostate cancer. He was 102.
We met once. It was a few years back, before Walter had turned 100. I had the privilege to attend the Native American Presbyterian Men’s gathering at Cook College in Tempe. It was humbling to be welcomed into the group.
I remember walking the dormitory hall on the Saturday afternoon. As I so often do, I was checking my BlackBerry.
“Don’t you ever quite working?” one of the men asked.
“He never does,” said another.
I smiled. And only now I confess that I was checking football scores. Why disillusion anyone was my thought at the time. Besides, we were in Arizona. I went with that old axiom: in the West, “when the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”
Turning the corner in the hallway was Walter. We greeted each other briefly. I took about two steps and then stopped in wonder. I stared at the BlackBerry – seeing the device, not the screen. I looked down the hall at Walter, walking away from me, then back at the BlackBerry, then back at Walter.
Amazing as the BlackBerry was, I could only imagine how much more amazing – how much more marvelous – how much more wonder-filled, Walter’s life must have been. What he had seen – and done – and experienced – during his years. I stood for a time in awe, watching as he made his way back to his room.
I stood in awe again that Sunday morning – as Walter preached – his faith, his grace, his courage, his commitment to justice shone through.
Walter lived over 36,500 days. I was blessed to be with him on parts of 3 of those days. I wish it had been more. It was enough.
For Walter’s life and love and witness, thanks be to God.
See you along the Trail.
Spent Tuesday afternoon through Thursday noon with the Middle East Coordinating Group at Stony Point Center. They were working on a study resource on the Kairos Palestine document.
Got back to the Shire on the Hudson around 1:00 Thursday. Plunged right back into things. Went to First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone where I was reminded what a blessing my calling is.
Friday brought meetings. It also brought my friend David Bowie. We are leading an antiracism event on Sunday in Plainfield, NJ. Over Fritos and Kashi Snack Crackers, we reminisced about the dogs that have touched our lives.
The NFL draft took place. Eric filled me in on what Cleveland did. I tracked the Steelers a bit. One (that would be me in this case) does wonder what will happen with the NFL season.
Tomorrow will be a day to prepare for Sunday and to try to catch up.
See you along the Trail.
Filed under Antiracism, Football, Friends
It was good today . . .
to worship at Good Shepherd-Faith Presbyterian Church
in Korean and in English;
to gather with a “United Nations” of sisters and brothers,
a multicultural, inclusive community;
to hear music ranging from
Oh Happy Day to The Holy City;
to remember Naomi
who presented me the cross I wore to preach,
who lived as a child of resurrection in a world of Good Fridays;
to experience anew the reality
of the Communion of Saints –
those with whom we once share life’s journey
go with us as the journey continues;
to watch the flowering of the cross
and to realize, for the first time,
that it denies not
the obscenity of crucifixion
but proclaims that,
affirms that,
though consequences continue and wounds remain,
resurrection follows – new life blooms.
It was good today.
See you along the Trail.
Forgiveness can come too soon.
Forgiveness can come too late.
May I have wisdom to time forgiveness well.
With thanks to Donald Shriver for this observation made in the film Forgiveness: A Time to Love and a Time to Hate
See you along the Trail.
It happens almost every night.
I shut off the computer,
turn out the light,
and leave the office.
I walk down the hall to the elevator
and push the call button.
When the cab arrives, I push “1” and head downstairs.
Hector is there to see me out.
Sometimes we talk about weather or family.
Often we talk sports.
[Conversations got interesting when
my Steelers beat his Jets.]
Then I head for the door,
and I hear Hector’s final words:
always the same
always in the same, kind voice:
“Good night, Marko.
Get home safe.”
Get home safe.
We live in a world where so many have not a home
a tent in a refugee camp
a blanket in the back of a car
a cot in a shelter
a mattress in a brothel
a root of a tree
a spot on a subway grate;
a world where unsafe situations fill so many homes:
domestic violence
sex trafficking
war
exploitation
persecution
occupation
a world where the journey home
is unsafe
perils, dangers
known and unknown
lurk and strike
with regularity and ferocity.
In such a world, Hector’s words come as
a blessing
a benediction
a prayer that the day may soon dawn . . .
and a challenge that we work for that day . . .
when
every one has a home
every home is safe
and we all travel there safely.
Get home safe.
May it be so.
See you along the Trali.
