Imagine the Ocean

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / Leave a comment
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Lava enters the Pacific Ocean in August 2016. Photo by Eric Anderson

This week I’m not going to tell you a story about a sport that you don’t play (or that I don’t play), so we don’t have to worry about not knowing the rules.

Instead, I invite you to use your imagination. That’s something all of us can do.

Imagine the ocean, the seas of this planet, as if it were a person: someone who could think, someone who could feel, and someone who could talk.

Imagine the ocean rising up all around the earth as the skies poured with rain for years and years and years.

Imagine the ocean flexing its currents as they started to move about.

Imagine the ocean, as its surface climbed higher and higher above the sea floor, wondering aloud if would cover all the earth.

Imagine God looking over it all, and saying, “No. I think not. There won’t be quite so much water for you, Ocean. There will be dry land in the world.

“But…

“Even on the highest peaks, Ocean, there can be water.

“Even on those highest peaks, Ocean, water will fall in rain or snow. In fact, the highest summits of Earth will always wear a crown of snow.

“Above those highest peaks, Ocean, clouds may float: your water, suspended in mid-air, raining down from time to time to return to you again.”

And so, to this day, the Ocean drinks in the rain and snow that falls above land or sea. And to this day, the Ocean grumbles at the shores, constantly reshaping and reforming the boundaries of the land, hoping, perhaps, to one day cover all the globe.

And to this day, slowly but surely, land still rises higher in places, pushed from below by currents of rock.

And to this day, in other places the currents of rock run down the mountainsides, where they may reach the ocean and win new land from the sea amidst a scarlet glow, and the water hisses and fumes.

And to this day, God looks upon land and ocean, and smiles.

Soccer Woes

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Emerald Dragons play soccer

Photo by Andy Elck – Used by permission under Creative Commons license.

In introducing this story, I asked if the kids were soccer players, because a few weeks ago I told a story about baseball, hoping they played it and would know about it. Well, I struck out. Then I tried telling a story about a Yu-Gi-O, the card trading game, hoping they played that. And I ended up with an empty hand.

So this week I turned to soccer, which everybody plays now, right? and once again, I failed to score. I think they’re due a penalty kick…

There was a boy who really wanted to play soccer. He loved it and he was always eager to play, so he joined a league and he joined a team.

There was only one problem: it turned out he wasn’t very good at it.

There are kids who run fast. He wasn’t one. There are kids who can kick the ball any direction they like. He could kick it pretty much anywhere but where he wanted it to go.

He kept forgetting that you can’t touch the ball with your hands, and he’d reach out to grab it as it sailed by. And the first time he tried to “head” the ball, which is to hit it with his head, it went very badly indeed. Not only did he miss the ball, he managed to trip himself and fell face-first into the grass.

It’s hard on a team when there’s a player who’s not very good. Sometimes, though, those players bring a sunny spirit to the game, and they make everybody else feel good. It happens.

But… not this time. Every time he missed a kick, he’d mope. He griped about his slowness and his clumsiness, and he moaned every time the team lost, which, it has to be said, was most of the time. It wasn’t his fault (entirely), but they weren’t winning.

His teammates, frankly, would have been just as happy to see him go. He wanted to play, though, and his coach said he could stay, so he did. Poor skills and sour attitude and all.

As the weeks went on, though, his teammates began to notice that he was always at practice. He never missed a game. He moaned and groaned, but he worked hard to get better.

And he did get better. Not a lot, it’s true, but he kept trying and trying. He stopped raising his hands to catch the ball, and he stopped tripping over his own feet. He didn’t get fast, but he got faster. He didn’t kick the ball terribly hard, but more and more it went his way.

He never got worse. Each time, he was a little bit better. Never very good, but always a little bit better.

The rest of the team noticed. First one or two, then two or three, and then the rest: they noticed he was getting better.

And if he could get better, they thought, so could they. So they did.

They worked the way he worked, and sure enough they got better. They got better, and they started to win games. By the end of the season, they had more wins than losses.

As for this one boy who wanted to play soccer, it’s true that he was never a very good player, let alone a great one. But he was a leader. He was the one who led his friends to improve, just a little, each time, to be come a pretty good team.

Sunglasses

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Why yes, I do have United Church of Christ themed sunglasses. Why do you ask?

Before worship began, I wore these sunglasses as I walked down to church from my house. And they worked really well. I could see where I was going, and I wasn’t squinting in the bright sunlight. That’s pretty cool.

Now, however, I’m wearing them here in the church. And it’s not working so well. In fact, I can’t see very well at all.

If anybody’s looking to sneak out without my noticing, this is probably a good time.

In fact, is anybody still here?

When I take them off: Look! There you all are!

In bright daylight, the sunglasses help me to see.

But in a darker place, taking the sunglasses off helps me to see.

There are lots of things in life that are like this. They work in some places, and they don’t work in others. You have to try and see what helps in this situation, but don’t assume that what works now works then, and that what didn’t work then doesn’t work now.

Life can be complicated.

One thing always works, though: seeing the world through Jesus. Seeing the world through the love and kindness and compassion that he showed. Seeing people around us as beloved by God. Seeing the world God made as lovely and precious.

It’s better than sunglasses in a dark room.

It’s even better than sunglasses on a bright sunny day.

When Did God Create Music?

/ Rev. Eric Anderson / 2 Comments

IMG_1373Well, I don’t know when God created music.

I’ve sometimes liked to say that God created music on the fifth day of Creation (as it’s described in Genesis): “And God created the birds of the air (who sing!) and the fish of the sea (who sing in water!), and it was morning and it was evening, and it was choir night: the fifth day.”

That, of course, comes from spending time in several churches whose choirs rehearsed on Thursday night.

But in truth, I like to believe that God created music first.

I like to think that God created music by singing first into the vastness of the universe, one voice ringing in the void.

I like to think that the stars and galaxies came to be so that the music could echo from them – and become the music of the spheres.

I like to think that when the planets formed, the sighing of wind and waves carries the songs of God.

I like to think that birds began to sing so that they could join the melodies of God.

I believe that you and I exist so that we might harmonize with our Creator, that we might make the music even greater.

Sometimes we’ll join with instruments or voices, blending with each other to swell the chorus of the ages. Sometimes we’ll join with dance, with swaying bodies or lilting hands. Sometimes we’ll join by building other harmonies: with kindness, compassion, love, and care for people, creatures, and this created planet of ours.

I believe that when we make our harmonies, God smiles…

And keep on singing.

Card Sense

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There was a boy who loved the card trading game Yu-Gi-Oh. He loved the time with his friends, he loved the play, and he loved the cards themselves, with their figures and monsters.

He’d save his chore money to buy new expansion sets of new cards, and then he’d do more chores so that he could buy more cards.

He’d trade cards he had many of for other cards he hadn’t obtained.

And then he’d gather his friends, and the games would begin. It was fun.

Over the course of a few weeks, though, things changed. He came to think more of the cards than of what he did with them. He played less, and traded more. His trades grew more self-serving, and downright shrewd. He managed to talk his friends into exchanges that worked for him, and not for them.

When they actually stopped trading and played, he won more and more often as his increased collection of “special” cards gave him more and more of an advantage. It wasn’t much fun for his friends when he had all the winners and they didn’t. He hardly noticed that when he brought out his cards that suddenly they were busy, or wanted to do something else, or just hadn’t brought their cards that day. It allowed him to scan through his collection instead.

Until one day, as he was laying out his cards on a table, and wanted to point one of them out to his friends. When he looked up, there was nobody there. Nobody would enjoy it with him.

He thought hard about that.

A few days later, he brought out his special cards, and one by one, he passed them around to his friends. One for you, one for you, one for you, one for you… until they were all shared.

And then: they could play. And it was a good game.

Half the Way: Shrink!

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CanyonThis story is about a wizard on his travels.

Do you know what a wizard is? It’s somebody who can work magic – at least in stories. In stories, magic is a pretty cool thing to have, or be able to do: to make things happen by using a spell.

This wizard had a spell that was really, really useful when traveling, so he set out in confidence, even though the road he was following could be a difficult one. It went through a narrow canyon, with cliffs rising steeply to either side, and sometimes big rocks would fall and block the way.

Plenty of people would choose another road, but not this wizard. He made his way down the path, enjoying the sunlight winking over the canyon walls.

And sure enough, he got to a place where a huge boulder had come loose from the cliff high above, and fallen in a very narrow section of the gorge. There was no space between the boulder and the side that he could squeeze through on the right, and no space that he could squeeze through on the left. It was too tall and too rugged to climb, and as for going under, well, he hadn’t brought a shovel.

So now was the time for the spell to prove its worth. He stood resolutely before the boulder, pointed his finger at its rocky greatness, and intoned:

“All the way, all the way, all the way… Shrink!”

The boulder shuddered, and some gravel came loose and pattered on the path, but the huge rock remained absolutely huge.

The wizard, confused, confronted the rock again, pointing his finger at its stony magnificence, and intoned:

“All the way, all the way, all the way… Shrink!”

This time the boulder didn’t even shudder. It did nothing except sit there in all its immensity.

“All right,” said the wizard to himself. “I’m tired. I’ve been walking all day, and I haven’t had supper. I’ll eat, I’ll get a good night’s sleep, I’ll wake fully rested, I’ll make breakfast, and then I’ll take care of this rock.”

And that is exactly what he did. He made his supper and ate it, he went to bed early and slept well under the stars (a good night’s sleep is important; ask your parents!), he got up and ate a good breakfast (a good breakfast is important; ask your parents!), he packed up his gear for the day, and stood once more before the boulder, and cried:

“All the way, all the way, all the way… Shrink!”

Once more the great rock shuddered, and more dust rose on the path below it. But other than that, it remained just as gigantic as it had the night before.

Now the wizard sat down to do something he hadn’t done to this point: he sat down to think.

(Thinking is a good thing. Just ask your parents!)

He thought for a good while, and then an idea lit up his face. He sprang to his feet again, and once more faced the rock. He directed his finger, and with all the strength he could mustered declared:

“Half the way, half the way, half the way… Shrink!”

And the enormous boulder shivered as it did, indeed, collapse to half its size. Which was still gigantic, and still blocked the path, so the wizard cried again:

“Half the way, half the way, half the way… Shrink!”

Again the rock shrank, and still it blocked the path, so the wizard repeated four or five times (he lost count):

“Half the way, half the way, half the way… Shrink!”

Until the boulder was a rock he could step around with ease, and go on his way.

There are things in the world that are too big to change, for sure and certain. But sometimes, we can take them on in smaller ways, chunk it down and do a little at a time. Eventually, those small things add up to make a big difference.

Photo “2011-06-13 Arizona, Antelope Canyon 065 Lower Antelope Canyon” by Allie_Caulfield via Flickr. Used by permission under Creative Commons license.

Overhand or Underhand?

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Baseball_showing_stitching_on_grass

Two young baseball players, new to the team (if not quite to the game) found themselves in deep disagreement one day over the proper way to throw a baseball.

 

“Overhand!” insisted the team’s new shortstop. “That’s the best way – the only way. It gets there faster, and you can throw it farther. Underhand just doesn’t cut it.”

“Underhand is best!” argued the second baseman. “You’ve got more control. It goes where you want it to, and it’s easier for your teammate to catch.”

Neither would give an inch.

“Overhand!”

“Underhand!”

“Overhand!”

“Underhand!”

This went on for some time.

At last, the coach had reached her limit for unreasoned discussion – or, well, argument. She told the players to take to the diamond for some fielding practice. As the infielders and outfielders took their positions, she told one of the other players to stand on first base.

“Here’s the situation,” she called to the team. “We’ve got one out, and there’s a runner on first. That could be the tying run in this game. So we’ve got to get these runners out!”

She stepped up to the plate with bat and ball, and hit a scorching ground ball between second base and third. The shortstop ran to intercept it, caught it neatly, and she looked to where the second basement was running to cover the bag as the runner took off from first.

The second baseman was close. Really close. So the shortstop – the overhand thrower – tossed the ball underhand to the second baseman just as his foot tapped the bag. One out.

Now the second baseman – the underhand thrower – spun to look toward first base. The coach was sprinting down the base path, making for first. So he cocked his arm back, and fired a fast straight throw (overhand!) to the first baseman, who caught it just before the coach’s foot could come down on the bag.

Double play!

All the players hooted and hollered their congratulations, and the coach walked over to the wondering pair who’d just reversed their argument in a fraction of a second.

“It’s not about one way to do things,” she told them. “There’s a place and a time for underhand, and a place and a time for overhand. You just need to learn which is which.

“Now, play ball!”

Baseball image by Hector Rodriguez – originally posted to Flickr as Baseball, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10178609

With a Grateful Heart

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The youth rejoice.

In company with many of my fellow citizens, I’ve felt a lot of sorrow this week, and a burden on my soul. The deaths of Alton Sterling, then Philandro Castile, then Lorne Ahrens, Michael Krol, Michael Smith, Brent Thompson, and Patrick Zamarripa, came as a relentless beat of violence. They laid bare once again how incomplete is America’s effort to eradicate racism from its society, and how overly ready we are to turn to force – deadly force – when fear and rage drive us.

 

On Saturday, I took the road south from Hilo to another UCC church, Kalapana Mauna Kea First Congregational Church, as they were celebrating their 193rd anniversary and holding a Ho ‘Ike, a musical celebration including musicians from a number of congregations around the island and a 90-person group of young people doing service projects at local churches across Hawai’i.

As I was watching liturgical hula for the first time (video below), I felt my soul rise. It was exactly what I needed.

Later on, I joined the kahu (pastors) and other church leaders in the house for an impromptu rendition of a Hawaiian song. Well, I’ve only been here three months, my Hawaiian can be generously described as minimal, and I simply didn’t grow up with the songs – but when you don’t know the melody, you can harmonize, and when you don’t know the words, you do your best with the vowels as they come along.

So thank you, Kalapana Mauna Kea, Kahu Mike Warren, and all the leadership and musicians of the day that made it so special. I’ve been richly blessed. May God bless you even more.

I Wish…

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IMG_1082I wish I had words to express my sorrow.
I do not.

I wish I had words to express my anger.
I do not.

I wish I had words to persuade the world.
I do not.

Only tears gathering at the corners of my eyes,
Tears insufficient to cleanse the bloodied shirts
Which could not shield the ebon bodies
Desecrated by lead.

I wish I had words to speak the bullets back to the chamber,
The fingers off of the triggers,
The guns back into the holsters,
The fear out of the hearts,
The aggression out of the speech.
I do not.

I wish I had words so all the world would know
And act as if it knew
That #blacklivesmatter.

But I do not.

In anger and in sorrow at the deaths of Alton Sterling and Philandro Castile.

‘Apapane Pride – And Hubris

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‘Apapane_and_Nestlings

An ‘Apapane and nestlings, courtesy National Park Service

If you were very lucky, and found the right tree, and if you stood in the right place where the branches weren’t too think, and if you looked at the right place, you might see the ‘Apapane nest high in an ohi’a tree.

There were three chicks in the nest, about 2 weeks old, they were hungry all the time, and they had grown feathers – so they were starting to think about flying.

Birds grow up faster than people.

One of them, who might have been the oldest but they all hatched at the same time so who knows?, was sure that he was ready to fly. So when his mother had flown off to get some food – did I mention that they were hungry pretty much all the time? – he hopped up on the side of the nest, spread his wings, and launched himself into the air.

Well, I’m afraid he didn’t get far. Those new feathers weren’t quite grown out, or his wing muscles weren’t quite strong enough, or some combination of the two, and he was lucky to find himself grasping a branch not far below with his wings all a-flutter and his heart racing.

And that was before his mother got back and hounded him along the branch he’d landed on to the tree trunk and then some hopping and frantic fluttering to bring him back to the nest at the top of the tree.

Quite aside from all the air she blew at him with her wings, she gave him The Look.

You know The Look, right? It’s the one your mother gives you when she’s Just Had Enough?

I know The Look.

And likewise this little bird got to know The Look.

Two days later, though, all their wings were stronger and now the mother thought they were ready to fly – did I mention that birds grow up faster than people? So the mother nudged them onto the edge of the nest one by one. Our proud chick went first, and sure enough, his wings were ready and he flew off. But I’m afraid he still had more pride than wing strength, so when he tried to fly farther than the next tree he found himself on the ground a little ways past it. It took some time before he was rested enough to come back to his home tree.

The second chick, I’m afraid, let his fears get the best of him. He’d watched his brother do badly, of course, but even without that, he wouldn’t believe he could do it. His mother nudged him up on the edge of the nest, and there he stayed, even when his mother gave him The Look.

You now The Look, right?

I know The Look.

And this little bird got to know The Look.

When he still wouldn’t take off, his mother finally resorted to pushing him right off the nest. He frantically sawed the air with his wings, and to his surprise, found himself flying right over to the next tree, where he perched with his heart pounding and his mind soaring.

Then came the last one. He stepped up, and looked at his mother, who nodded. He spread his wings, and looked at them carefully, to see all the feathers were in place. He thought they were, but he looked at his mother, and she nodded again. He flapped his wings a couple of times, just to feel how the air pressed against them, and one last time, looked at his mother. She nodded once again.

So he stepped off into space, let his wings descend and rise again…

And he flew.