On Holding On and Yet Letting Go

“Try to strike that delicate balance

between a yesterday that should

be remembered

and a tomorrow that must be created…

As children of today and tomorrow,

we also children of yesterday.

The past still travels with us

and what is has been makes us

who we are.” Earl Grollman, Living When A Loved One Has Died

            What a delicate balance it is, between remembering what is important and vital and life-giving, and at the same time being open to the new possibilities for living that await us just around the next corner….

            No one gets through this life untouched by loss. Grieving and sorrow are part and parcel of the human condition. If we are fortunate, our first experience of loss is that of a beloved childhood pet, but even if so, the losses come fast and furious thereafter – grandparents, parents, too often siblings, children who never see the light of day, a spouse, and on and on.  And then there are those other losses as well – broken relationships, employment, abilities that fade with advancing age.

            Grief work can be so hard.  It will have its way with us, often hitting with waves of overpowering emotion that come on their own timetable, that can be triggered by a memory, or an experience, or by nothing discernable.  We feel so out of control, and wonder if we are “normal”, or if it will ever get any easier, or if it will ever go away. “Closure” is an illusion, at least when the loss is deep, and yet when we lose someone we love so much, would we really want it any other way – would we really want to forget, to live as if the one we grieve had never been?  In a fast-food, instant gratification world,  grief refuses to progress on our timetable, and really does not “progress” in any sense of moving in an orderly, scheduled manner. 

            This is no single answer, but there is hope, and that hope is all tied up in taking what we need from the past, and letting go of what we need to, and trusting that in the grieving we are building a bridge to the future.

Bring Us a Shrubbery! (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

            Those of a certain age might remember that film with the Knights Who Say “Ni”, and their demand that those who would traverse their domain “Bring us a shrubbery!”

            What brought this to mind was seeing some buds on one of our hydrangea bushes, a promise of spring in what has been a severe and unrelenting winter of discontent here in New England.

            But it got me to thinking, if I were a shrubbery, or a tree, or a plant, what would I be?  Not what I would want to be (that is for next week!), but what I am.

            And what about you? If you were to think for awhile about what sort of shrubbery, or tree, or plant, you are, what would it be?

            Would you be a hot-house orchid, gorgeous and yet at the same time a bit on the fragile side? An oak tree in the forests of Wisconsin, with gentle autumn breezes strumming into tune your dried leaves? A palm tree gently swaying over a Caribbean lagoon? A beech, pale bark scratched here, peeling there? A Vermont sugar maple in a March thaw, sap running strong, full of the potential for growth that in just a little while will astound the world with vibrant fall colors? 

            Me, I’m thinking of a pear tree, like the ones in the orchard out back of my childhood home.  Not a towering giant, but orchard-sized, maybe 12 feet tall at most, formed by the grafting of a pear onto an unknown root stock, so as to keep the mature tree at a harvestable, yet sturdy, height. And not a spring-time pear, with its delicate blossoms, but one in full fruit.

            Thinking of the many graftings in my life. Of being adopted at four-months by two wonderful parents, who gifted me beyond measure. Of being taken in by my spouses’ families, quirks and all. Of being chosen to pastor a congregation some almost four hundred years young, and over the past twelve plus years growing in many ways. But also thinking of community – of standing with many others. And of being at a point in my life where I can be fruitful, and of benefit to family, to friends, and church, and the wider community, in many ways.

            What kind of tree are you?

“They are like trees

       planted by streams of water,

     which yield their fruit in its season,

       and their leaves do not wither.

     In all that they do, they prosper.”

Psalm 1:3

Turning the Other Cheek does not mean "Be a Door Mat"

A joke heard the other day. Seems that a fellow was driving down Rt. 132 coming into Hyannis and just as he neared the intersection the light turned yellow, then red, and so he pulled to a stop. Immediately the woman in the car behind begins to lay on her horn, beeping madly at him, then rolling down her window to give him a few choice words, followed by an angry one-fingered salute. The light changes, the man drives on through, and a police car pulls up alongside the woman’s car, lights flashing. The officer asks the woman to exit her vehicle, handcuffs her, and leads her off to jail. After a few hours she is released, and on the way out of the jail she sees the arresting officer and asks him what that was all about. He replied, “Well, you see, I saw the bumper sticker on the car that said “Jesus saves”, and the little bronze fish symbol, and the “What would Jesus do?” sign, and so, judging by the way you were carryin’ on, I just figured that the car had to be stolen.”

            Ouch! A not so gentle reminder that we who profess to follow Jesus, the one who calls us to love our neighbors, are often less than perfect in how we treat one another in our daily lives. We might well ask ourselves, if we have such a hard time in showing love and compassion in the little stuff, how can we expect to show forth the love of Christ in the big stuff, when the real challenges to live faithfully come along – like when we feel under attack by those who consider us their enemies, like when we feel persecuted by others, or put down. And, truth to tell, we sometime look at Jesus’ teachings here and simply disregard them, living as if they do not apply to us. And we do this on two grounds: first, telling ourselves that no one can live that way, that this is an ideal not meant for us and our “real world”; and second, that living by these teachings about loving your enemies, going the extra mile, and turning the other check, is just a recipe for making yourself a doormat, that it is an invitation to abuse and oppression and tyranny, and the world has more than enough of all that, thank you very much.

             As to the first, well, some people actually do live that way, and Jesus was example number one. He not only talked the talk, he walked the walk, right until the very end, where he forgave those who killed him from the cross. Jesus loved everyone, even those who would call themselves his enemies.

            As to the second, we need to take another look at Jesus’ teachings about how to respond to those who would wrong us, and see what he was really saying – that we need to expand upon traditional ways of thinking, go further, and set no limits to our goodness.

            Jesus starts by reminding his hearers of what they had been taught in the past: “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’” We need to remember that, as originally taught, this rule was a vast improvement over what had come before, which was unlimited retaliation, the nuclear option – “you put out my eye, I chop off your head.” It is not, in fact, a bad way of putting some boundaries around unacceptable behavior.  It lets us give in to that part of our hard-wiring which, when confronted with danger, urges us to “fight or flight”, but in a limited, controlled way. It can even work on the playground, at least when there are no effective structures in place to ensure that justice will be done, as long as you are big enough and strong enough and have enough buddies to back you up.  But Jesus says limited retaliation is not the way towards a better world for living in societies; as one writer put it, “The only thing an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth is good for is creating an eyeless, toothless world.”

But neither does Jesus say, “Go ahead and walk over me,” because he knows that this, too, is not a way towards a better world.

            So what does he say? Let’s take a look about what he says about how to handle what he calls an “evildoer”.

            All three situations Jesus describes are about having one’s rights infringed in a humiliating way. It is important to remember that in that culture these events would all have taken place in public, and that, in this traditional honor/shame culture, the purpose was to insult the other’s honor.

            First, the famous “turn the other cheek” saying. When we imagine a fight, we think of John Wayne rearing back and letting go a roundhouse right to the face of the opponent, but that is not the situation Jesus is talking about – if you can visualize such a blow, you can see it would land on the left cheek. What Jesus is talking about is a back-handed slap, which was what one delivered to another to show contempt for them -- which would hit the right cheek. So look what happens when Jesus says “turn the other cheek” – the victim, in turning his head, makes it impossible for the bully to strike him again. You can imagine the frustration in the face of the bully, as well as the laughs of the onlookers.

            Next, “if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat (the tunic worn next to your skin), give your cloak (the outer garment) as well.”  Everyone would have known that it is just terribly bad form to sue someone when the only assets they have are the clothes on their back, and they realize that if the one who is sued follows Jesus’ advice – strips naked right there in the courtroom – the one who has sued will be a laughingstock and a pariah in the community.

            Finally, “if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also a second mile.” The only ones who could force others to go a mile were the Roman soldiers, who by law could compel the local peasantry to carry their gear for one mile. Resistance would clearly be futile – but what if, after carrying the gear for one mile, you went on carrying it for another mile as well? In this case the soldier whose gear you were carrying would be breaking the law, and liable to discipline from his officers – Jesus’ followers surely chuckled as they imagined a Legionnaire begging for this gear back, running after the peasant in the hopes of avoiding punishment.

            The common thread here is that Jesus is not telling his followers, or us, that the way to a better world is to be door mats for those who would use and abuse and commit injustice and wrong. He is advocating what some have called “a third way”, a way which does not perpetuate the cycle of injustice and violence that comes from either retaliation – an eye for an eye -- or capitulation – walk over me --  but which calls us to envision another way forward.

            A way that might, for instance, involve calling the members of an oppressed, colonized country to spin their own textiles and make their own salt, and through a process of non-violent non-cooperation win their independence from the mightiest the empire the world had yet seen.

A way that might, for instance, involve sitting down at a lunch counter in a Woolworth in Greensboro, North Carolina, or refusing to ride a bus in Selma Alabama, that would eventually lead to the end of racial segregation and discrimination in this country.

A way that might, for instance, involve the formerly imprisoned member of the ANC, then new president of South Africa, persuading black South Africans to get behind the hated nationally rugby team, the Springboks, who went on to defeat New Zeeland for the Rugby World Cup – and thus unifying a nation still divided over the legacy of apartheid.

A way that might, for instance, involve camping out in a central town square in Cairo, Egypt, and refusing to resort to violence or destruction to oust a dictator of thirty years.

A way – and who knows? – that might involve Washington insiders actually working together to solve this country’s economic woes and immense federal budget deficit, and perhaps even compromising on cutting expenses, domestic and military, and raising taxes appropriately.

            What we want is to put limits on our goodness, to be loving towards our family and friends, to enjoy the gratification which comes from retaliation, to live on our terms. Jesus calls us to do more, to love the way God loves, choosing to act with love and compassion towards all, without discrimination, and doing the hard work of striving for justice, work which requires us to think a little harder and perhaps risk a bit more boldly.

            You have heard it said . . .  and yet Jesus says….

We get to choose which path we will risk.

May God grant that we choose wisely, and so grow into the maturity and wholeness which just could, by the grace of God, be our lot. Amen.        

           

Lessons from a Farmer, A Pig, and an Abbot

The Bishop in Jaffna, Sri Lanka, shared a parable with me over lunch.

In great distress the farmer knocked incessantly on the door to the abbot’s cell. “Abbott, Abbott, you must help me,” he cried. “I’m at the end of my rope, I cannot take it anymore, I am thinking of suicide.”

            “What is the problem, my child?”, responded the abbot.

            “Our one-room farmhouse is just bedlam, what with my wife, her mother living with us, and the four screaming children. I will do anything if you can just solve my problem”, continued the anguished man.

            Calmly, and with the wisdom born of much study and prayer, the abbot answered, “Then go hence and buy a cow, a pig, and a rooster, and take them home to live with you, and come back in one week to see me.”

            “Are you crazy?”, the farmer shot back.

            “You said you would do anything . . . ,” the abbot serenely replied.

            The farmer did as he was told. On his return a week later he was greeted at the door of his cell by the abbot, who asked, “How are you, my son?”

            Furious, the farmer screamed at the abbot, “Horrible, just horrible! Your advice was no help at all. I did exactly as you said. The children are still screaming, my wife and her mother are still driving me nuts, and now there is the incredible noise and smell from all the animals as well.”

            His placid countenance undisturbed, the abbot replied, “Do as I say then. Go home, take the cow, the pig, and the rooster, and sell them, and then return to me in a week.”

            A week later the farmer returned, and again was greeted by the Abbot. “ How are you, my child?”

            A huge grin creased the farmer face as he replied, “Everything is just great! Now everything is so much quieter, cleaner, calmer, more spacious....”

            How often it is that we let our circumstances – or how we perceive them to be -- ruin our peace, and dictate our moods. If our plane departs on time, we are happy, but if it is delayed, we are in the dumps; if our favorite team wins the game, we are on cloud nine, but if it loses, we can’t get to sleep; if we have x dollars in the bank, we tell ourselves, then we will be secure, but if not, our future is uncertain. And on and on.

            Maybe we need to put on some new glasses. What if we saw the world, and everything in it, as made by a loving Creator, who is really in it right now, and who is at this very moment calling to us from the other side of every event and circumstance?

"And the peace of God, which surpasses all human understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Paul's Letter to the Philippians 4:7)

Valentine's Day, Every Day

            Tomorrow the world celebrates Valentine’s Day, a day which has over the years become a celebration of love, and, more specifically, of romantic love.  Now this poses something of a dilemma for the pastor, because we in the church have a long history of both celebrating love, and yet at the same time, trying to hold it at a distrustful distance. And yet, I take heart from a framed letter I found squirrelled away in a church closet here.

Here is the identification on the bottom of the frame: “The Famous Love Letter of Rev. Oakes Shaw our pastor from 1760 to 1807 to Mrs. Susanna Vanguard. She married him and lived in “Old Parsonage.”” The letter is dated April 3, 1774. it reads, in part,

            Mrs. Susa,

What shall I write about?  I can hear of no great matter of news worth the communicating to a Lady and I am so dull of invention that I know not how to make any; as to myself and family we are through divine goodness in health as I trust you are. I had the luck of foul weather to ride in the day after I left Braintree and indeed every visit since our acquaintance has been attended with a storm. I hope it will not always be so, nor do I look upon it as ominous Not as a prelude to what is bad. I trust to be well paid for it in an Agreeable Companion; each of my visits to you have been agreeable. The last was in a peculiar manner so.

People here wonder why I am so dilatory; why the Lady is not to be brought home now this Spring; though but a few have mentioned it to me.  I tell them, what does it signify to be in a hurry, slow and sure is a good maxim in many cases, and why not in this? More haste than good speed has often been detrimental; however I desire the favour that you would get ready as soon as you conveniently can, I wish it may not be beyond the middle of June; I have some thoughts of making you a visit something sooner than was mentioned. If I do, I am persuaded you will take it well, if not, that also will be well…

Mrs. Susa, it would serve to exhilarate my spirits and be a pleasure to me to have a few lines from your hand, if your modesty does not forbid it– no more at present, but that I am Sincerely yours:  Oakes Shaw

            I have to say that I find the Rev. Oakes Shaw to be a positive inspiration to all of us men who, when it comes to writing a love letter, just don’t have a clue! And yet I think Mrs. Susa would have been able to recognize the passion raging just between the lines here. That talk about the stormy weather every time he visits – it is as if the very heavens themselves try to dampen his ardor, try to cool him off after his visits with his “agreeable companion” – but as the Song of Songs reminds us, “many waters cannot quench love”!  He writes that his last visit was not only “agreeable”, but also “peculiarly so.” He pretends to be measured and patient – “What does it signifie to be in a hurry, Slow and Sure is a good maxim in many cases” – yet in the next breath he voices his desire that she be ready as soon as she can!  Instead of asking her to write back, he asks for “a few lines from her hand” – no doubt reminding her of all that hand-holding they did on his last visit!

            I believe that this letter was regarded by this congregation as “famous”, and that it was preserved and displayed, shows that our congregational forbears were onto something – onto something about the power and even the sacredness of desire, of passionate love.

            From a Christian faith perspective, love, including romantic love, is a marvelous gift. Like all gifts, it can be misused, even abused – for instance, saying that “But we were in love” is often used to justify all sorts of misconduct, including the breaking of marriage vows. But love is a gift even so. It is a central element in a good creation made by a generous and loving God. At the heart of Trinitarian theology is the belief that God is three in one – that God is not unitary, that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are one in the Godhead, each retaining their own distinctiveness, but all bonded together in a relationship of love. So it can be with two persons in love: two persons who give themselves to each other in love do not lose themselves, but find themselves growing with the other into the fullness of their existence. So we might hear two people in love say, “When we are together, I feel like this is what I was created for, that together we are more than when we are apart.”

And yet the love that is shared by two is not just for their mutual enjoyment – its effects ripple outward into the world.  Just as the love within God – the love that is God – draws us towards God, so too the love of two people draws others by its example. You know what I am talking about here – we want to be around people that are truly in love, whether they are two people head over heels for each other in a new romance or a couple that just celebrated fifty years of marriage together, and who still find that their love grows and changes.

            The Song of Songs celebrates this capacity we have for longing and desire, it holds up the embodied love that cherishes the fleshiness of our existence. Each lover in the Song, man and woman alike, delight in the body of the other; each lover extends equally passionate invitations to lovemaking; together, they embody a love that is reciprocal and unspoiled, two in one flesh, one in heart and soul and united in self-giving, partners in a divine dance to which God invites all humanity. Their love is not one of dominance and submission, but of equality and respect; not of lust for objects, but love for another. The Song celebrates creation and the human condition, presenting us with an ideal of love without shame, without exploitation, without selfishness – a mutual love reflecting the love of God for us.

            For God does love us. God loves you. It is a gift, it is nothing you merit or deserve. It is sheer grace. “You are the beloved”, God says to each and every one of you. “You did not choose me, but I chose you,” says Jesus in the Gospel according to John.

            This is the good news for us today, and the law of descending grace: that God, no less than Oakes Shaw, is a fool for love. And it is God’s undoing: out of a passionate, yearning desire for us, our powerful and distant God comes wandering into the our garden in search of his beloved, becoming incarnate in Jesus, taking on this flesh of ours, and loving us towards wholeness. 

            Truly, for God and those God loves – each and all of us – Valentine’s Day comes not once a year; no, for God and those God passionately desires, every day is Valentine’s Day.

           

           

Two Monks, One Lesson

Two monks, who had taken vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity, were walking along when they came to a swollen river. On the bank they found a distraught young woman, pulling her hair in anxiety as she fretted because her family, who needed her, was on the other side.

Gauging the level of the water and the swiftness of the current, one monk lifts her up onto his shoulders and carries her through the flood to the other side.

Two hours later, as the monks walk along in silence side by side, the other monk turns to his companion and says, “Brother, how could you break your vows by carrying that woman, by touching her?”

The other replied, “I put her down two hours ago – why are you still carrying her?”

(Told to me in Sri Lanka by Bishop Jebanesan, Bishop of the Jaffna Diocese of the Church of South India).

How often is it that we carry things around with us that we should have put down long ago?  Regrets about the past, grudges we have clung to, refusals to forgive, all those “If I had only”s.

Why not just decide, today, right now, to put those unnecessary burdens down, and choose to walk in newness of life in this day, in all its never to be repeated glory?

A New Seating Chart

I believe that the world – or at least the good old U S of A – can be divided into two groups: those who loved their high school experience, and those who loathed it.  And I suspect that what made the difference for many of us was not academic or athletic success, or whether one made the cheerleading squad or the drama society. What made the difference was whether you were popular.

            I was one who, looking back on the high school experience, simply loathed it. I did have a small circle of very good friends, but we were most definitely not popular, and back in the day when people actually dated or went out together, I did not have a girlfriend, which I am sure contributed to my unhappiness with the whole situation.

            But then, one evening, late in the game, so late in the game that if it were actually a sporting contest you would have to call it overtime, everything flipped for me.

            Graduation was only a day or so away, and I was attending one of the many graduation parties that were held for us by our parents. It was at Mary McCracken’s house, out back on a field next to the barn – it was a working farm, which was unusual at the time when most of the farmland had been plowed under for the suburbs.  Mary was a friend, but not a good friend, and ranked up there pretty high on the popularity scale – a spunky little athlete, great smile, always a kind word for everybody. At any rate, the time comes to eat, and I wander off to the outer edge of the assembled tables to grab a seat before they are all taken.  A few minutes later there is a tap on my shoulder, and Mrs. McCracken tells me she has been looking all over for me, because Mary had reserved a place for me up at the head table.  It was not prize day, and I was not making that long walk up to the platform to be handed an award as Valedictorian or as Most Well-Rounded Student or some such, but if I were that would have paled in comparison to the joy that filled me as, with everyone watching, I made my way up to sit at the right hand of Mary McCracken.

            Little did I know, way back then, that we were acting out what Jesus advised those Pharisees at dinnertime a couple thousand years ago. (Luke 14:1, 7-14)  Jesus is passing along some sage advice about social etiquette, but Luke makes clear that Jesus is doing more than being an early version of Emily Post or Miss Manners by telling us that Jesus told this as a parable – in other words, Jesus is talking about behavior in the kingdom of God.  The last thing Jesus is interested in doing is starting some sort of new social game whereby everybody at the party rushes to the cheap seats in the hope that they will be seen as humble, and then, when selected to move on up to the table of honor, have their moment in the spotlight. What he is doing is telling us of the importance of genuine humility as we serve others in his kingdom, not mindful of ourselves, as we say in our church covenant, and serving God.

            But Jesus does not stop with telling us what to do when we are invited to the party – he also tells us what to do when we are hosts. He knows that many time people invite others to dinner to put them in the host’s debt – so that they will feel that they owe the host something, often a reciprocal invitation. There is no generosity or giving in this situation, it is all about what I, the host, can get out of it. But look at what God does – God invites us to the party, even though we are unworthy, even though we could never pay back that debt. So too, Jesus tells us, we should invite to the table those who cannot pay us back – the poor, the ill, those on the margins of society.

            The Greek word for hospitality, philoxenia, means “love of the stranger.”  We do not exercise true hospitality, Jesus tells us, when we invite family, friends and close neighbors; true hospitality is all about inviting the stranger and the outcast. This is what the kingdom of God is all about; this is what we participate in and help bring about when we practice true hospitality.

            Like when we open our facilities, at no charge, to a new Alcoholic Anonymous Chapter, which we have done recently.

Like when we make sure that the message gets out that our youth group is not just for long-time members here, but for their friends from the wider community.

Like when we live out our statement of welcome, which says that we welcome to our work and worship all persons, “regardless of race, gender, age, ethnicity, sexual orientation, ability, or economic circumstance.”

Like a friend up in the Boston area, Louise, a member of Trinity Church in Boston, recently did, taking into her home for the night a family of five, strangers to her until that afternoon, whose furnace had broken down. The overnight was capped with a big pancake breakfast enjoyed by the two families.

Like another friend of mine down in Savannah did recently. Born and raised in Guatemala by her American mother and Guatemalan father, living in the States ever since, Catherine overheard an agricultural worker speaking in Spanish outside a florist, and recognized him as Guatemalan. She struck up a conversation with him, and found out that he had been in this country for two years, and was having difficulty collecting his wages, now over three weeks past due from his employer. She agreed to call the employer on his behalf, and to make a long story short, got nothing from the employer but verbal abuse. In the end, she and her husband invited the worker to their home for dinner, and then to stay the night.  They had, she says, a marvelous evening, full of sharing of stories about life in Guatemala, but also full of learning how difficult life could be for people seeking a new and better life in a strange country.

            Jesus says, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, and you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous. Of course, what he means by that is not that you have to wait until the end of time to be “repaid.” You will be repaid as you, participating in the kingdom as you help bring it in, rise to new life; as you, like Catherine, share the warm glow of old memories with a new-found countryman on the down and out; as you, like Louise, share laughs around an impromptu pancake feast on a bleak midwinter’s morn with a family needing shelter from the storm; as you, like the youth group, find your life enriched by those with new perspectives, who don’t even know you enough about you to care whether or not your are popular; as you, like an awkward, insecure teen on the brink of leaving high school, suddenly awake as if from a bad dream, and look around, and see a new seating chart, and feel like you have graduated to another world.

Refrigerator Art Musings

            I was over at the house of some friends, and since they have young children, they also have an art gallery in their home – pasted all over their refrigerator door. But they also have this sticker pasted on the door, about three inches wide by ten inches or so long. It is titled “101 Ways to Praise Kids”. And it lists 101 ways in which a parent might praise their child: “Your super!” “Great job!” “You’re a big help!” “I can’t get over it!” “Unbelievable work!” “You’re a real trooper!” “You should be so proud of yourself!” You get the idea. The purpose of the sticker, and the reason these friends put it on the refrigerator, is to remind these young parents of the importance of praising their children.

            Praising our kids is important – it helps build self-esteem, it reinforces good behavior. But I was also thinking about the way in which we are changed through the act of offering praise. I think any parent who has tried to change their pattern of discipline with a child knows what I am talking about here; I think anyone who has coached a team will resonate with this; I think anyone who enjoys praising is on the same page with me here. When we offer praise, when we consciously make the effort to concentrate on affirming the goodness we see in another, something changes within us, some part of us that we might not even have acknowledged as being hungry before, is suddenly fed. We realize that it is not enough simply to observe that which is worthy of praise – we must offer the praise itself if we are to fully enjoy the experience.

                Theologian and author C.S. Lewis put it this way:

I think we delight to praise what we enjoy because the praise not merely expresses but completes the enjoyment; it is its appointed consummation. It is not out of compliment that lovers keep on telling one another how beautiful they are; the delight is incomplete till it is expressed. It is frustrating to have discovered a new author and not be able to tell anyone how good he is; to come suddenly, at the turn of the road, upon some mountain valley of unexpected grandeur and then to have to keep silent because the people with you care for it no more than for a tin can in the ditch; to hear a good joke and find no one to share it with…” (C.S. Lewis, Readings for Meditation and Reflection, ed. W. Hooper, 1992, p.43).

            You probably know from your own experience about our need for praise, for sharing the awe that unexpectedly graces us. A friend told me about her walk on the beach and how suddenly, there, playing in the white caps just past the surf line, was a seal. Enraptured by this unlooked for gift, and seeing in the distance a fellow beach–comber, she felt compelled to jump up and down and wave to get their attention, to point out the seal, to share the wonder.  And I would guess many of us will watch the Super Bowl together, that we might share in the joy of an Aaron Rodger’s touchdown, or game-winning field goal. Truly praise does more than simply express our enjoyment – somehow, praise completes it.

            Perhaps a reason many of us come together on Sunday mornings, to offer praise.