Yesterday, a roadside bomb killed Abdul-Sattar Abu Risha, the head of the Anbar Salvation Council.  He was credited with cooperating with the U.S. in organizing effectively to stem the tide of some of the terrorist violence in Iraq.  President Bush met with Abu Risha in Iraq less than two weeks ago to thank him for his efforts. 

Those opposed to Abu Risha already had killed four of his brothers and six other relatives.  Mourners attending Abu Risha’s funeral shouted, “We will get our revenge.”  So, the cycle of violence continues.  Sometimes we shake our head in wonder at the barbarism we see in other cultures. 

It’s a wonder why, though. 

In Miami, a young African-American man opened fire on police during a traffic stop, killing one officer and wounding several others.  Police officers from across the state swarmed to Miami to join in a manhunt for the suspect, and when they found him, the results were predictable. He was shot dead.  There was no arrest or trial. 

A similar case unfolded in Florida a year or two ago.  Again, police from around the state hunted down an African-American man who shot and killed a police officer during a traffic stop.   When they found him, more than 100 rounds from police weapons obliterated him.  I guess they wanted to make sure he was dead.  No sense arresting him and putting him on trial.  Instant justice. 

The cycle of violence continues.  Many factors contribute, whether you consider the culture in the Middle East, or the culture here at home. 

In both cases, solutions are sought through deadly force, and the problems continue.

A news report mentions that the Air Transport Association has advised airline carriers that U. S. Senators no longer should be allowed to book multiple flights, “hedging their bets on when they could get away and paying only for the flight they took.”  This is in response to Senate rules on the acceptance of gifts.  We have to put a lid on corruption, you know, and hold even politicians accountable -- for how, and by whom, they are influenced to vote on important issues.

Apparently, some of our political leaders followed a practice of privilege:  scheduling two or more airline reservations at different times, because they were unsure of when the legislative session would end and they could depart Washington.  The reservations they did not keep just disappeared without charge.  Some Senators now are complaining that if unforeseen developments delay their exit from Washington, they potentially would have difficulty getting a plane home.  Sort of just like the rest of us.

Everyone in the U.S. Senate is a person of privilege.  In fact, most election-winners are people of privilege.  It simply costs so much to run a viable campaign that if you don’t have the money, or the contacts to acquire it, there is no point in running for office, no matter how visionary or dynamic and insightful you might be.

And despite our tendency to put them on pedestals, and to assume higher standards of excellence and even morality, we see on a regular basis that people of privilege are just as prone to incredible fallibility, corruption, and moral failure as the rest of us.

In the community where I live, some are reeling over recent events in which an elected leader was accused of, and admitted to in some measure, child sexual abuse, and then committed suicide as the investigation accelerated.  Now that it is out in the open, there are people saying “rumors” of such behavior have been circulating for a couple of decades. 

One person reported that the deceased regularly bragged of hiring prostitutes, and that he pursued sexual escapades with female clients of his contracting business.  All while he was married to his first wife.  All while he ascended the political ladder within a party espousing “family values.”  No one, apparently, spoke up.

I once had a colleague whose deception was exposed.  He tried lying, diverting attention away from his misdeeds, forcing out staff that were on to his ways – in short, everything he could think of to avoid facing the truth.  Many people previously held this person in high esteem, and some still steadfastly refused to accept or acknowledge his failures. 

Ever since it all came to light, numerous people have approached me unsolicited and told me of instances when they observed this person engaging in his dishonest practices, dating back even ten years or more prior to the public discovery.  All while he was in church leadership.  All while he was touted as someone special within our denomination and beyond.  No one spoke up.

So, it happens, and will continue to happen, and the messes into which people get themselves probably shouldn’t surprise us. 

What is surprising, to me at least, is why we expect those who have been raised up as somehow special, or who are privileged, to be exempt from character flaws and moral failure.

Experience teaches us it just is not the case.

When our older son was a young child, he had an uncanny knack for finding money.  The rest of us somehow could pass blindly over coins, and even sometimes bills, lying on the ground.  Gabe saw them and picked them up.  One time I remember walking into the front entrance of a department store with Gabe and a quarter came rolling along the floor in a wide arc, curving toward him, and collided with his shoe.  He even figured out that there may be lost coins on the floor around photocopy machines in public places, and more than once I saw him head straight for the copier at the library.

I read about a church that began an outreach ministry with a couple of coins found on the sidewalk by a member.  Now all the members are encouraged to bring money they find and throw it in the outreach jar.  The money that was lost, then found, is put to good use, helping other people.

The lectionary for next Sunday includes the parable of the Lost Coin from Luke 15.  The woman who lost the coin searches high and low, sweeping, searching, and persistently pursuing the coin.  Finally, she recovers it, and she was so filled with joy she gathered her friends and neighbors to “Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I lost.” (v. 9b, NRSV)

Jesus tells the parable to illustrate God’s passion for recovering the “lost.”  People who are not part of the community of faith are precious to the heart of God.  The community is not whole without them.  God is diligent in drawing them in.

But, you know, to me it isn’t strictly a matter of getting everyone onto church rolls and into the pews.  I think, rather, it is somewhat similar to the congregation that uses lost money for outreach.

The more people there are who experience the grace of God, and have their lives transformed by the love of Christ, the more people there are to make that grace and love known to others, so that blessings abound.

If you’re a member of my church, you’ll hear more about this on Sunday.

Yesterday’s sermon text from Luke 14 was one of those in which Jesus wasn’t smiling.  In fact, one gets the distinct impression that Jesus was more than a little perturbed as he reacted to the posing and posturing of the religious leaders of his day.  Jesus went out of his way to make the point that their behavior wouldn’t cut it for those who wanted to be his disciples.

Jesus spoke of his followers carrying his cross and selling all of our possessions.  One point I made in my sermon was that God knows more than we ever will, and God knows what is best, so we are completely at God’s mercy – and that’s what we get when we seek to follow Jesus.  We try, but inevitably we will fall short in our faithfulness.  Fortunately, we have the power of the Risen Christ to keep us in range of God’s love.

Sermons on commitment and faithfulness can seem harsh and demanding, likely turn-offs for some people who limp into church following the stresses and challenges of the prior week, but the lessons come up in the text, so we try to share the message.

I came across a story shared by William Willamon about people who were up for a challenge: 

“Do you know Teach America? Teach America is an organization which recruits this nation’s best college and university students to go to teach in the most impossible teaching situations in our country. This recruiter from Teach America looked out on a crowd of Duke students. She began by saying, ‘I don’t really know why I am here to night. I can tell just by looking at you that you are probably uninterested in what I have to say. This is one of the best universities in America. You are all successful. That is why you are here, to become an even greater success on Madison Avenue, or Wall Street, or in Law School. And here I stand, trying to recruit some people for the most difficult job you will ever have in your life. I’m out looking for people who want to go into a burned out classroom in Watts and teach Biology. I’m looking for somebody to go into a little one-room school house in West Virginia and teach kids from six years to thirteen years old how to read. We had three teachers killed last year in their classrooms! And I can tell, just by looking at you, that none of you want to throw away your lives on anything like that. On the other hand, if by chance there is somebody here who may be interested, I’ve got these brochures and I am going to leave them down here and will be glad to speak to anybody who is interested. The meeting is over.’

With that, all of the students jumped up, rushed into the aisles, rushed down to the front, starting fighting over her pamphlets, just dying to apply for Teach America.

That night I learned: People are hungry to give their lives to something more important than themselves. It is a fact of life, not only that everything costs us something, but that, in our better moments, we are even eager to pay the cost.”

Jesus looks for our better moments.

Each year, as the anniversary of the September 11th attacks comes around, I recall not only that terrible day, but I also remember another tragedy that occurred that week.  It was the untimely death of Barbara Silverman, my co-worker for my first four years at William Penn House. 

Barbara arrived at William Penn House two months before I did, having just graduated from Earlham School of Religion, and thinking she would spend a year as an intern.  Shortly after her arrival, the Director fired the House Manager, a staff revolt ensued, and several more people ended up leaving, including the Director.  The staff I inherited when I was hired as Director consisted of Barbara, another recently arrived intern, and the custodian. 

Barbara became Acting House Manager, and I was fortunate to keep her around in that role for a few more years.  She eventually entered a program at the University of Pennsylvania to prepare for institutional chaplaincy.

Following her continued education after she left WPH, Barbara found her niche.  She became the House Manager at the Ronald McDonald House in Washington.  So, she was back in town. 

I spoke to Barbara and saw her from time to time as we kept in loose contact over the intervening years, and I truly felt she was fulfilled in her roles as head resident, counselor, chaplain, manager and everything else she did for the young patients and their families who spent time at the Ronald McDonald House. 

At the end of the week preceding the September 11 attacks I received word that Barbara was in the hospital.  She had a severe reaction to a prescription medicine and was experiencing kidney failure. 

I checked on her at the hospital just about every day.  Her condition quickly worsened.  As the news of the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon filled the television screen in her hospital room, she seemed barely aware of what was happening.          

Each day brought new complications and narrowing hope for recovery.  Her elderly father was in town standing by, as were her brother and family.  I spent time with all of them apart from the hospital.  It was a very intense week, and finally the day we dreaded arrived.  Barbara died.     

I hurried to the place where her family was staying.  When Barbara’s father, a tiny, fragile man with a variety of health issues of his own, finally came into the lobby, he slowly walked over to me, sat down, and simply said, “Today we have fresh evidence that life isn’t fair.” 

As summer wraps up and the cycle of activities spins back toward school, work, and other regular endeavors, we’re still in the midst of the longest portion, or season, of the church year.  

Following Pentecost, which occurs 7 weeks after Easter Sunday, the ensuing church season is known as “Ordinary Time.”  On some calendars, however, each Sunday is designated as being the “(whatever number) Sunday after Pentecost.”  There are 26 such Sundays in the year, fully half of all Sundays. 

The reason for mentioning this is that clearly there is an emphasis on the memory of Pentecost.  Each Sunday is listed with a reference to the world-changing events that are described in the New Testament, in chapter 2 of Acts.  As promised by Jesus, the Holy Spirit showed up, inspiring and empowering the disciples, and getting the attention of others present in Jerusalem that day.  Three thousand people became believers, and the church was off and running.   

Sometimes in churches we get bogged down in details, organizational matters, and interpersonal struggles.  We allow culture to intrude on worship.  Often, we look and behave as a collection of individuals more than as a community of faith.  Core values such as the practice of spiritual disciplines become less of a priority than counting our dollars. 

But, we’re followers of Jesus.  We’re Pentecost People!  God enables us to recognize the times when we take our eyes off of Jesus.  God empowers us to adjust our course.  The example of the earliest of Christians, whose story is reported and preserved for us in the pages of a book we all own, even in multiple copies and translations, shouts to us of the new possibilities bound up in the Holy Spirit. 

A popular feature on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno is a bit called “Jaywalking.”   Cameras are taken to a shopping mall, a busy street corner, or an amusement park, and people are asked questions about subjects that seemingly are common knowledge.  Naturally, the funniest responses are shown on the air, such as when college history majors don’t know basic facts about U.S. history, or when otherwise seemingly intelligent people are oblivious to current events.   Hopefully, most of the people Jay interviews correctly answer his questions, but we’ll never know for sure.

At one Disciples’ General Assembly, a film clip of “Jaywalking” was shown to the entire gathering.  In that particular case, Jay asked basic questions about the Bible – and the answers were predictably silly and embarrassing.  Of course, we Biblically literate Disciples were tremendously amused by the lack of familiarity with scripture shown in the clip.  It’s probably a good thing Jay and his crew, with their microphones and cameras, weren’t circulating among our group asking similar questions.

Over the years, I have encountered people who knew their Bibles backwards and forwards, but seemed lacking in grace, forgiveness and love.  Conversely, I have known some faithful, generous souls who probably would have looked foolish under Jay Leno’s questioning.  Still, it seems there is room among Christians for basic Bible familiarity and awareness.

Quick – list the Ten Commandments, in order.  Where do they appear in the Bible?  What are the names of the four Gospels?  Which ones are known as “synoptic?”  Who observed the burning bush?   When Jesus was asked which of the commandments was most important, how did he respond?  Name five Old Testament prophets.  What was the significance of Ruth?  Who succeeded Moses as the leader of the Chosen People?  Why did Jonah refuse to go to Ninevah?  What happened to him following his refusal to go?  What happened on the Day of Pentecost, and what did it signify?  What is the Great Commission?  Who first discovered the empty tomb of Jesus?

So, how did you do?  If you need help with some of the questions, there is a good source in which to find the answers. 

I think you know what that is.

We’re on the verge of welcoming two puppies into our household.  They are Pembroke Welsh Corgis, and when we bring them home, they will be eight weeks old.  Both females, their names will be Jacki and Jas, named for two flowers found in our area, jacaranda and jasmine.

It has been a while since we had puppies, so we’re trying to think of all that is necessary to prepare for their arrival, and to make plans for their needs.  In some ways, it would be nice to skip over some of the realities of puppyhood, but I guess it’s all part of the experience of responsible pet ownership.

Years ago, as we were moving to a new town and church – and into a parsonage owned by the congregation – we had Cleo, a three year-old dog; Gabe, who was a couple of months past his first birthday; and Matt was on the way.

Several months after we arrived, I discovered there was some discussion among at least a few of the church folks regarding our bringing a dog to live in their house.  A busybody Disciples pastor from a church just across the state line somehow got wind of this and submitted the case to the “advice” column in The Disciple, then the official journal of our denomination.

The busybody pastor framed the question as if he were a participant in the original discussion, noting that the incoming pastor was a young man with a pregnant wife and a toddler, as well as the dog.  He wondered whether a church should be concerned with such a “picayune” matter, perhaps the only time that word ever appeared in The Disciple.   The writers of the column responded by remarking they were glad the church allowed the “young pastor” to keep his child, since children typically did more damage to parsonages than did pets. 

Indeed.  Dogs, after all, don’t know how to use crayons.

On the DisciplesWorld website there is an article about a light bulb that has been burning almost non-stop for close to 100 years.  The best guess is the bulb was placed into a socket and the switch flipped on around 1914.   It was an outside porch light, left on day and night, at a home in Norfolk, Virginia.  When the family sold the house some 30 years later, they told the new owners about the light bulb and its longevity.  So, the incoming occupants left the light on.

Over the following quarter-century, the light was switched off only once, during World War II, when an air marshal told the family it could not remain on that night.  In 1967, the house again was sold, and a family member took the light, installed it in a hallway lamp, switched it on, and let it burn.  For 40 years.

Earlier this year, the bulb was passed along to another family member, who is keeping it on in his house.

I thought that was a remarkable story, and when I read about the 2007 International Day of Prayer for Peace on September 21, sponsored by the World Council of Churches, well, a light bulb appeared over my head.

The way our faith is handed down across generations is like the image of a light bulb that keeps burning hour after hour, year after year, decade after decade.   People, events, trends, and so much else, come and go, but the shining presence of faith in God through Jesus Christ remains.  With it, hope remains, as do new possibilities for life.

The 2007 International Day of Prayer for Peace is a by-product of the constant light of that faith.  Maybe every day could be used as a Day of Prayer for Peace.

God knows the world needs it, and maybe the light would make visible a path to the peace God desires for us.