“Grace isn’t a little prayer you chant before receiving a meal. It’s a way to live.” ~ attributed to Jacqueline Winspear, English author
The computer keys made a clacking sound as I clattered away on the key board. I use a modified two index finger method as I never learned the more eloquent touch typing approach. The two finger method was much more satisfying anyway because I was frustrated…really frustrated.
The center of an office cat fight is never pleasant. People flexing there political muscles in the relative safety of cyber space. As usual there had been plenty of finger pointing and butt covering served up from the safe distance of offices and cubicles; like firing artillery into the enemy lines. Tragically, in today’s work environment there often are no “lines”, making everyone and anyone a target. As long as “me” comes out on top the impact on “you” doesn’t matter much.
Now it was my turn. I like to call my method the “paper cut and lemon juice” approach; inflicting maximum discomfort without the appearance of having caused any. This particular writing style requires a delicate touch; one wants to sound concerned without appearing patronizing or condescending; pointing out tragic mistakes in the spirit of helpfulness. Once mastered it is a particularly effective method as it allows one to stand honorably above the rest while squashing the competition like roaches and perhaps even being promoted for doing so.
Stopping my clatter for a moment I scanned the screen rubbing my chapped hands together, my lips moving as I read the document out loud to myself; making sure the tone was just right. A word correction here and some punctuation there; a strategically placed underline there and a little bit of bolding here; then it was ready to go. My finger hovered over the send key which would propel my electronic missile off into cyberspace creating havoc as it went.
Then…I paused.
Years of experience reminded me: though I had gleefully approached my task up to this point; once I hit that key my glee would turn to guilt and my enthusiasm to worry. I returned to my draft and for another ten minutes fiddled with what I had written. But, regardless of what I did, it still came out wrong.
Finally, I decided I would rather be happy than right. I clicked the X in the upper right corner of the screen. The “Do you want to save changes?” box appeared. I clicked “No”. The screen went clear and refreshed.
I retrieved the original string of offensive emails and tapped the mouse as the cursor hovered over “Reply to all”. I typed the following: “Is there anything I can do to help remedy this situation?” A moment later, with a sigh of relief, it was sent.
When we are frustrated, resentful, unsettled, or upset, no matter the reason, the cause is usually within us. We must look inward not outward to resolve our issues. It is not the event, which stirs us up and clouds our vision. Rather it debris of our life which we carry with us which obscures our view. Faith was once described as a state of being in which no one can steal your peace.
And yet, our feelings are hurt, our ego bruised or we feel disrespected and we want others to “feel our pain”. Or perhaps more accurately, since we feel pain, they should too.
Perhaps surprising to some, it is stewardship which can provide an answer to our daily angst and frustration. Many of us see stewardship as a way for the church to get something out of us (more money, more volunteer time, etc.) without realizing it is intended to make us better, happier, more alive. In this regard, the restorative power of stewardship is often overlooked.
When I locked myself in email jail to do battle I had convinced myself I was defending a principle. What I was really defending was a need to be right, a need to be validated, a need for my ego to be protected.
Stewardship teaches us to be grateful for everything. When we live our lives knowing we are showered with God’s grace, pettiness dims in comparison and defense is unnecessary.
When I am truly grateful for all that I have: a job, people with which to interact, a desk, a computer on which I can communicate with the world (and write unkind things things without the fear of the police breaking down my door), it corrects my otherwise lopsided perspective. What I thought needed to be defended really didn’t.
Once I have identified what is askew with in me I can see the world anew. It is hard to engage in office politics when you are saying to yourself “I am truly blessed and forever grateful.” Gratitude is the key to a happy life.
Dear God: Make me forever grateful.
“Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted–a paved road or a washing machine? If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” ~ Rabbi Harold Kushner, prominent American rabbi and author (b 1935)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Friday, January 7, 2011
Close Encounters
“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” ~Lao Tzu, Chinese philosopher, founder of Taoism (600 BC -531 BC)
It had been pouring rain off and on for three days. All our plans for that Sunday had been washed away with the winter rains. We had arranged a special birthday experience for our daughter, Angela, combining brunch at a local restaurant of her choosing, a trip to visit her Grandmother in the convalescent home and a gratis “hair-do” by her favorite beautician. We had a long history with this particular beautician. Joanne had styled Angela’s hair since high school including proms, formals, graduations and even her wedding. For all intents and purposes she was family.
Our best laid plans were no match for the intervals of torrential downpours. Angela’s drive up the 405 from Redondo Beach, hampered by weather and traffic accidents, had taken twice as long as usual. Undoubtedly, the trip back, in the twilight of early winter darkness, would take as long if not longer.
Our plan had been to finish brunch in time to visit her Grandmother during her noon meal. When that didn’t work out Angela headed straight to her Grandmother’s care facility and then to the beautician, blood sugar plummeting due to lack of food.
When Angela arrived at the Hair Style Salon she had put in an emergency call to her mom (Teresa) for food. Still the best take out in town; Teresa packed lunches for the three of us. Then we drove to the salon so we could visit with our daughter during her hairstyling.
I rested in a black swiveling reception chair still dressed in my long, dark brown trench coat. Teresa and Angela sat opposite me in similar padded chairs. Angela’s head was covered with the stuff beauticians put on people’s hair. Sometimes the less you know the better.
So there we sat; munching away on our ham and cheese sandwiches on sprout bread with brown mustard. The meal was rounded out with sliced apples, small bags of cashews, cheese sticks and bottled water. With only one other customer in sight we had the run of the place and had requisitioned an alcove at the back of the shop.
We caught up on family gossip, shared stories, discussed recipes, confirmed holiday plans and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Somewhere along the way we realized the context of our visit didn’t matter; it was each other’s company we enjoyed the most.
Hair rinsed and ready for the scissors we moved to a different part of the salon. It was Joanne’s turn to catch us up on her life and our lives’ frame of reference widened accordingly. There was someone new in Joanne’s life and she shared her joy with us.
As she was finishing up (both the hair-do and the update) we paid the bill (our gift) and said goodbye to our daughter. “This turned out to be a really nice birthday,” she said, giving us each a hug.
After extracting a promise from her to call us when she got home we headed out the door into the rain. An old Woody Allen adage came to mind as we trotted through the parking lot to our car: “If you want to make God smile…tell him your plans.”
It is an irony that life often irritates us by interfering with our plans. Yet it is life which is most important. True stewardship is not how well we plan our time, but how well we live our time. It is not about the execution of our plans, but the experiencing of our life. Crafting our life is not the same as living our life. Life can only be experienced through human encounter, through interacting with the world even when those interactions are not exactly what had in mind for ourselves.
Unfortunately we often allow our happiness to be defined by the flawless execution of our plans. We become frustrated when things don’t work out as we intend. Potentially pleasant human encounters become disappointments over poor execution: the lost reservation, the delayed schedule, the late guest or family member, all pull us away from the simple joy of human interaction. The warmth of sharing our stories, our joys and sometimes even our hurts is dissipated by our need to control. Life was meant to be lived; not managed to death.
If we are to be truly happy in life we need to enjoy the journey, not fret about how well we followed our itinerary. Rest assured God has a different one in mind.
Dear God: Remind me to stop, look and listen.
“We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It’s just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn’t have expected.” ~Ben Okri, Nigerian author (b1959)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
It had been pouring rain off and on for three days. All our plans for that Sunday had been washed away with the winter rains. We had arranged a special birthday experience for our daughter, Angela, combining brunch at a local restaurant of her choosing, a trip to visit her Grandmother in the convalescent home and a gratis “hair-do” by her favorite beautician. We had a long history with this particular beautician. Joanne had styled Angela’s hair since high school including proms, formals, graduations and even her wedding. For all intents and purposes she was family.
Our best laid plans were no match for the intervals of torrential downpours. Angela’s drive up the 405 from Redondo Beach, hampered by weather and traffic accidents, had taken twice as long as usual. Undoubtedly, the trip back, in the twilight of early winter darkness, would take as long if not longer.
Our plan had been to finish brunch in time to visit her Grandmother during her noon meal. When that didn’t work out Angela headed straight to her Grandmother’s care facility and then to the beautician, blood sugar plummeting due to lack of food.
When Angela arrived at the Hair Style Salon she had put in an emergency call to her mom (Teresa) for food. Still the best take out in town; Teresa packed lunches for the three of us. Then we drove to the salon so we could visit with our daughter during her hairstyling.
I rested in a black swiveling reception chair still dressed in my long, dark brown trench coat. Teresa and Angela sat opposite me in similar padded chairs. Angela’s head was covered with the stuff beauticians put on people’s hair. Sometimes the less you know the better.
So there we sat; munching away on our ham and cheese sandwiches on sprout bread with brown mustard. The meal was rounded out with sliced apples, small bags of cashews, cheese sticks and bottled water. With only one other customer in sight we had the run of the place and had requisitioned an alcove at the back of the shop.
We caught up on family gossip, shared stories, discussed recipes, confirmed holiday plans and generally enjoyed each other’s company. Somewhere along the way we realized the context of our visit didn’t matter; it was each other’s company we enjoyed the most.
Hair rinsed and ready for the scissors we moved to a different part of the salon. It was Joanne’s turn to catch us up on her life and our lives’ frame of reference widened accordingly. There was someone new in Joanne’s life and she shared her joy with us.
As she was finishing up (both the hair-do and the update) we paid the bill (our gift) and said goodbye to our daughter. “This turned out to be a really nice birthday,” she said, giving us each a hug.
After extracting a promise from her to call us when she got home we headed out the door into the rain. An old Woody Allen adage came to mind as we trotted through the parking lot to our car: “If you want to make God smile…tell him your plans.”
It is an irony that life often irritates us by interfering with our plans. Yet it is life which is most important. True stewardship is not how well we plan our time, but how well we live our time. It is not about the execution of our plans, but the experiencing of our life. Crafting our life is not the same as living our life. Life can only be experienced through human encounter, through interacting with the world even when those interactions are not exactly what had in mind for ourselves.
Unfortunately we often allow our happiness to be defined by the flawless execution of our plans. We become frustrated when things don’t work out as we intend. Potentially pleasant human encounters become disappointments over poor execution: the lost reservation, the delayed schedule, the late guest or family member, all pull us away from the simple joy of human interaction. The warmth of sharing our stories, our joys and sometimes even our hurts is dissipated by our need to control. Life was meant to be lived; not managed to death.
If we are to be truly happy in life we need to enjoy the journey, not fret about how well we followed our itinerary. Rest assured God has a different one in mind.
Dear God: Remind me to stop, look and listen.
“We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It’s just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn’t have expected.” ~Ben Okri, Nigerian author (b1959)
© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Reboot!
“Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.” ~Hal Borland, American author and journalist (1900-1978)
I was running as hard as I could. Down the concrete sidewalk, which connected the two houses, I went. My grandfather’s big black Cadillac had turned in from McMurray Road and was headed down our long gravel driveway.
My family’s house, and that of my grandparent’s, occupied the same plot of land. We shared a common driveway with a sidewalk connecting the two homes. Ours was first, went entering from the road, so I always knew when Grandpa was coming home. Even before I saw the big, black, broad finned vehicle, I could hear the sound of the tires crunching in the gravel and the putter of the engine as he went by. Undoubtedly, he had just gotten home from Round Hill United Presbyterian Church where he was doing interim pastor work.
Having just arrived home from school, I dropped my book bag in the kitchen and headed out the back screen door, banging it as I went, hoping to beat him to his garage so I could be there to greet him. Grandpa was just getting out of the car when I arrived. He wore his quintessential black two piece suit with a white dress shirt and red patterned tie.
I came to an awkward stop, but my usual “Heh Grandpa!” caught in my throat. Silently I stood staring at the huge chrome front bumper, blinking occasionally to confirm the reality I beheld. The bumper, which had always been so perfectly formed, now had a big semi-circular indentation just to the left of center. Compensating for the stress in the middle, the ends of bumper had pushed awkwardly forward making the whole front look awkward, deformed.
“What happened Grandpa?” I blurted out. “Oh, I was visiting an old lady from the church.” “I was parked facing downhill and forgot to set the parking brake.” “When I got out of the car it rolled down the hill and ran into a tree,” he finished with a smile.
“Wow, you must have really had a bad day,” I concluded. “No, actually I had a pretty good day,” he responded and proceeded to tell me about all the good things which had happened that day including his visit with the little old “shut in”. “Let’s go in and get a glass of milk and see if Grandma baked anything today.” He held the door for me as I stepped into the breezeway and headed on into the kitchen; greeted by the aroma of Parker House rolls.
The New Year is traditionally the time to make resolutions. It is perceived as a magical window of opportunity to change our lives; to eat less, drink less, spend less, stop smoking, start exercising and better our lives in general. Within a few weeks most of us have slipped back into our old patterns, promising ourselves we’ll do better when the next “window of opportunity” comes along.
It is ironic we are so preconditioned to believe our lives are…preconditioned. If my year or month or week or day gets off on the right foot then the rest of it will go well. But woe to us if we get off on the wrong foot. Woe to us if we wake up late, spill our coffee or have a flat tire.
There is another irony here as well: one bad event seems to carry far more weight in our lives than one good event. The flat tire or the unkind word have exponentially more impact on our lives than a friend’s greeting, our spouse’s hug or the parking space we didn’t expect we would find at the mall. Sadly, the negative becomes a blockage to all the positive surrounding us.
But, life is not a roller coaster onto which we step each day, preconditioned by a few bad experiences, and my Grandfather knew this. He knew one event did not a day make. A bent bumper did not take away from the positive human interactions he experienced through out the same day. Nor did it prevent him from expressing his gratitude to his grandson (and others) for the many good things in his life.
As stewards gratitude is an important part of our daily life. We are called to be grateful for the many gifts we receive from God each and every day. So, rather than making resolutions, take every opportunity, throughout the year, to “reboot your day”. Whenever the negative experiences come, as we know they will; REBOOT. Stop for a moment and simply say “CANCEL”. More importantly when the gifts come, as they always do; REBOOT. Stop for a moment and simply say “THANK YOU GOD”.
So, as we enter this New Year, resolve to be more grateful and give negativity the REBOOT.
Dear God: Teach me gratitude.
“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential.” ~Ellen Goodman, American columnist and Pulitzer Prize-winning syndicated columnist (b 1941)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
I was running as hard as I could. Down the concrete sidewalk, which connected the two houses, I went. My grandfather’s big black Cadillac had turned in from McMurray Road and was headed down our long gravel driveway.
My family’s house, and that of my grandparent’s, occupied the same plot of land. We shared a common driveway with a sidewalk connecting the two homes. Ours was first, went entering from the road, so I always knew when Grandpa was coming home. Even before I saw the big, black, broad finned vehicle, I could hear the sound of the tires crunching in the gravel and the putter of the engine as he went by. Undoubtedly, he had just gotten home from Round Hill United Presbyterian Church where he was doing interim pastor work.
Having just arrived home from school, I dropped my book bag in the kitchen and headed out the back screen door, banging it as I went, hoping to beat him to his garage so I could be there to greet him. Grandpa was just getting out of the car when I arrived. He wore his quintessential black two piece suit with a white dress shirt and red patterned tie.
I came to an awkward stop, but my usual “Heh Grandpa!” caught in my throat. Silently I stood staring at the huge chrome front bumper, blinking occasionally to confirm the reality I beheld. The bumper, which had always been so perfectly formed, now had a big semi-circular indentation just to the left of center. Compensating for the stress in the middle, the ends of bumper had pushed awkwardly forward making the whole front look awkward, deformed.
“What happened Grandpa?” I blurted out. “Oh, I was visiting an old lady from the church.” “I was parked facing downhill and forgot to set the parking brake.” “When I got out of the car it rolled down the hill and ran into a tree,” he finished with a smile.
“Wow, you must have really had a bad day,” I concluded. “No, actually I had a pretty good day,” he responded and proceeded to tell me about all the good things which had happened that day including his visit with the little old “shut in”. “Let’s go in and get a glass of milk and see if Grandma baked anything today.” He held the door for me as I stepped into the breezeway and headed on into the kitchen; greeted by the aroma of Parker House rolls.
The New Year is traditionally the time to make resolutions. It is perceived as a magical window of opportunity to change our lives; to eat less, drink less, spend less, stop smoking, start exercising and better our lives in general. Within a few weeks most of us have slipped back into our old patterns, promising ourselves we’ll do better when the next “window of opportunity” comes along.
It is ironic we are so preconditioned to believe our lives are…preconditioned. If my year or month or week or day gets off on the right foot then the rest of it will go well. But woe to us if we get off on the wrong foot. Woe to us if we wake up late, spill our coffee or have a flat tire.
There is another irony here as well: one bad event seems to carry far more weight in our lives than one good event. The flat tire or the unkind word have exponentially more impact on our lives than a friend’s greeting, our spouse’s hug or the parking space we didn’t expect we would find at the mall. Sadly, the negative becomes a blockage to all the positive surrounding us.
But, life is not a roller coaster onto which we step each day, preconditioned by a few bad experiences, and my Grandfather knew this. He knew one event did not a day make. A bent bumper did not take away from the positive human interactions he experienced through out the same day. Nor did it prevent him from expressing his gratitude to his grandson (and others) for the many good things in his life.
As stewards gratitude is an important part of our daily life. We are called to be grateful for the many gifts we receive from God each and every day. So, rather than making resolutions, take every opportunity, throughout the year, to “reboot your day”. Whenever the negative experiences come, as we know they will; REBOOT. Stop for a moment and simply say “CANCEL”. More importantly when the gifts come, as they always do; REBOOT. Stop for a moment and simply say “THANK YOU GOD”.
So, as we enter this New Year, resolve to be more grateful and give negativity the REBOOT.
Dear God: Teach me gratitude.
“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential.” ~Ellen Goodman, American columnist and Pulitzer Prize-winning syndicated columnist (b 1941)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Scrooged
“There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember Scrooge, time is short, and suddenly, you're not here any more.” ~The Spirit of Christmas Present ("Scrooge” 1970)
In 1843, Charles Dickens wrote "A Christmas Carol". It was one of a series of successful Christmas books by Dickens: which he described as "a whimsical sort of masque intended to awaken loving and forbearing thoughts". There have been at least ten movie versions of this classic tale: the first in 1938 and the most recent released in 2009. These include a Muppet, a Mickey Mouse and a 3D version.
Why do we keep returning to this endearing tale of the reformation of the irritable miser Ebenezer Scrooge? It is because, beneath the sarcasm and cruel remarks (“then let them die and reduce the surplus population”), he is us. He is obsessed with work and the acquisition of money. Scrooge is defined by his work to the point of sacrificing his one true love. “And as your business prospered, Ebenezer Scrooge, a golden idol took possession of your heart, as Alice said it would” (The Spirit of Christmas Past).
Most of us define ourselves more by our work than by any other single factor:
“There's no more telling example of how people identify themselves…by what they do, than in the current argument over the 9/11 memorial plans for Ground Zero. When the World Trade Center Memorial Foundation announced that victims' names would be displayed without specifying, among other things, what company they worked for, a group of their families denounced the plan, saying that not displaying these affiliations "robs victims of the human qualities that rallied and sustained the nation" ~“Lives Defined by Work, Even in Death” posted 2007 by Fast Company staff.
Why do we do this? Why don’t people asked to be identified as a Parent or as a Christian? Why do we define ourselves by our jobs rather than by who we are or what we believe?
First, it is the easiest way to measure our success at living life…a way of keeping score. Rather than being happy we try to quantify our happiness: i.e. I have a really good job where I spend a lot of time. It helps me have more money, a bigger house, a nicer car and more stuff; therefore I must me happy.
On the other hand, Jesus was essentially an itinerant preacher from a poor family who lived, on the “other side of the tracks”…Galilee. He died a humiliating and excruciating death. How would you measure his success?
Secondly, it is our way of exercising control. If I can acquire it, I can control it. Money, power, possessions and prestige are manifestations of successful living which seem to allow us to say, “I have got this life thing licked.”
Jesus, however, reminds us we have no control. "But God said to him, ' You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?' (Luke 12:20). As the popular commercial puts it, “Life comes at you fast.”
This is the important lesson Ebenezer learns on a snowy Christmas Eve. Scrooge’s obsessive quest for success, defined by his work and accumulation of riches and wealth, does not garner him happiness…quite the opposite. Staring into his own open grave he realizes his life, which is filled with success and money, has been empty. I doubt any of us would choose a tombstone inscription which read, “I should have spent more time at the office.” Unfortunately, we behave as if it would be a good idea.
So what changes on Christmas morning for Ebenezer? He is just as wealthy. He still owns his business to which he will undoubtedly return the next day. What makes him go from miserable and miserly to merriment overnight? HE BECOMES A STEWARD!!! A Christian Steward is “One who receives God’s gifts gratefully, cherishes and tends them in a responsible and accountable manner, shares them in justice and love with others, and returns them with increase to the Lord” (A Disciple’s Response).
Scrooge accepts God’s gift of life gratefully and, more importantly, he recognizes the gift of the “opportunity to change” his life…a gift which all of us receive. For the rest of the story Ebenezer goes about “cherishing and tending” his many gifts “in a responsible and accountable manner” and “sharing them in justice and love with others.”
He begins by making amends to those he has harmed beginning with his nephew. As the story comes to an end he sets about restoring Bob Crachit’s life and livelihood and we are pretty much assured he will make sure Tiny Tim gets the necessary medical attention he needs.
To paraphrase Tiny Tim “God has blessed us every one”. How do we define ourselves? More importantly, how will we keep Christmas in our hearts 24/7/365?
Dear God: remind us that you have blessed us every one.
"Mortal! We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three-hundred and sixty-five. So is it true of the Child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men's hearts one day of the year, but in all days of the year. You have chosen not to seek Him in your heart. Therefore, you will come with me and seek Him in the hearts of men of good will." ~The Spirit of Christmas Present (“A Christmas Carol” 1951)
© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the”© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
In 1843, Charles Dickens wrote "A Christmas Carol". It was one of a series of successful Christmas books by Dickens: which he described as "a whimsical sort of masque intended to awaken loving and forbearing thoughts". There have been at least ten movie versions of this classic tale: the first in 1938 and the most recent released in 2009. These include a Muppet, a Mickey Mouse and a 3D version.
Why do we keep returning to this endearing tale of the reformation of the irritable miser Ebenezer Scrooge? It is because, beneath the sarcasm and cruel remarks (“then let them die and reduce the surplus population”), he is us. He is obsessed with work and the acquisition of money. Scrooge is defined by his work to the point of sacrificing his one true love. “And as your business prospered, Ebenezer Scrooge, a golden idol took possession of your heart, as Alice said it would” (The Spirit of Christmas Past).
Most of us define ourselves more by our work than by any other single factor:
“There's no more telling example of how people identify themselves…by what they do, than in the current argument over the 9/11 memorial plans for Ground Zero. When the World Trade Center Memorial Foundation announced that victims' names would be displayed without specifying, among other things, what company they worked for, a group of their families denounced the plan, saying that not displaying these affiliations "robs victims of the human qualities that rallied and sustained the nation" ~“Lives Defined by Work, Even in Death” posted 2007 by Fast Company staff.
Why do we do this? Why don’t people asked to be identified as a Parent or as a Christian? Why do we define ourselves by our jobs rather than by who we are or what we believe?
First, it is the easiest way to measure our success at living life…a way of keeping score. Rather than being happy we try to quantify our happiness: i.e. I have a really good job where I spend a lot of time. It helps me have more money, a bigger house, a nicer car and more stuff; therefore I must me happy.
On the other hand, Jesus was essentially an itinerant preacher from a poor family who lived, on the “other side of the tracks”…Galilee. He died a humiliating and excruciating death. How would you measure his success?
Secondly, it is our way of exercising control. If I can acquire it, I can control it. Money, power, possessions and prestige are manifestations of successful living which seem to allow us to say, “I have got this life thing licked.”
Jesus, however, reminds us we have no control. "But God said to him, ' You fool! This very night your soul is required of you; and now who will own what you have prepared?' (Luke 12:20). As the popular commercial puts it, “Life comes at you fast.”
This is the important lesson Ebenezer learns on a snowy Christmas Eve. Scrooge’s obsessive quest for success, defined by his work and accumulation of riches and wealth, does not garner him happiness…quite the opposite. Staring into his own open grave he realizes his life, which is filled with success and money, has been empty. I doubt any of us would choose a tombstone inscription which read, “I should have spent more time at the office.” Unfortunately, we behave as if it would be a good idea.
So what changes on Christmas morning for Ebenezer? He is just as wealthy. He still owns his business to which he will undoubtedly return the next day. What makes him go from miserable and miserly to merriment overnight? HE BECOMES A STEWARD!!! A Christian Steward is “One who receives God’s gifts gratefully, cherishes and tends them in a responsible and accountable manner, shares them in justice and love with others, and returns them with increase to the Lord” (A Disciple’s Response).
Scrooge accepts God’s gift of life gratefully and, more importantly, he recognizes the gift of the “opportunity to change” his life…a gift which all of us receive. For the rest of the story Ebenezer goes about “cherishing and tending” his many gifts “in a responsible and accountable manner” and “sharing them in justice and love with others.”
He begins by making amends to those he has harmed beginning with his nephew. As the story comes to an end he sets about restoring Bob Crachit’s life and livelihood and we are pretty much assured he will make sure Tiny Tim gets the necessary medical attention he needs.
To paraphrase Tiny Tim “God has blessed us every one”. How do we define ourselves? More importantly, how will we keep Christmas in our hearts 24/7/365?
Dear God: remind us that you have blessed us every one.
"Mortal! We Spirits of Christmas do not live only one day of our year. We live the whole three-hundred and sixty-five. So is it true of the Child born in Bethlehem. He does not live in men's hearts one day of the year, but in all days of the year. You have chosen not to seek Him in your heart. Therefore, you will come with me and seek Him in the hearts of men of good will." ~The Spirit of Christmas Present (“A Christmas Carol” 1951)
© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Stewardship Coordinator for Saint Monica Catholic Community in Santa Monica, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the”© 2008, 2009 & 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Are All Welcome?
“Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.” ~G.K. Chesterton, English writer (1874 – 1936)
John Q was a catholic in name only. Baptized in a Catholic church his parents had forced him to attend confirmation classes even though they never really went to Mass themselves. Occasionally they would attend a Christmas Midnight Mass or Easter service. John’s dad was fond of having a few to many “toddies” during Christmas Eve dinner. Then off they would go to Mass. His dad, still smelling of booze, would always nod off during the sermon. One year, he snored so loudly, the priest actually stopped mid sentence. That was the last time they ever went to Midnight Mass.
Now, at 37 years of age, John Q, for the first time in a long time, found himself outside a Catholic church…and on Christmas Eve no less. His divorce from his second wife had been final only a month earlier; his kids were spending Christmas with their Mom (his first wife) and her new husband. John’s girlfriend, a secular Jew, was back in New York visiting her family.
The office party had ended an hour or so earlier. Rather than drive home to an empty apartment John had chosen to walk for a while, to clear his head, and had ended up here. Even before tonight he had felt an emptiness in his life he couldn’t seem to fill. His efforts to find meaning and solace had failed. So here he stood, alone on Christmas Eve, in front of a Catholic Church.
He was invisible amidst the clamor of people coming to Christmas Eve services. Laughter was all around him as people greeted one another on there way up the broad stone stairs. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black pea coat he wondered if there was an open bar close by. Maybe his dad always had one too many at Christmas just to fortify his courage to go to Mass.
“What am I doing here anyway?” he thought. The answer came back quietly but distinctly: “I’m here because I have no where else to go.” People were rushing in through the church doors now. Mass was about to begin. He could hear the organ playing and a familiar hymn being sung. His right foot rested on the bottommost step.
He looked back the way he had come. The streetlights seemed to dim for a moment. The siren song of the secular world tugged at him. “Surly there must be a bar or restaurant open close by” he thought. His focus returned to the church door and the music flowing from it, his weight shifted from one foot to the other…
Will John Q go in? More importantly how will he be received if he does? The “average Joe” no longer resides in a nuclear household (a married couple with their own children). In fact, we are not only diverse ethnically; we have become a nation of diverse living arrangements. Singles constitute 25.5% of households, the number of nuclear families has decreased 40% and the divorce rate is skyrocketing. The only truism is that most Americans will marry at least once in their lifetime, with the first marriage most likely ending in divorce.
So what message do we give (twice divorced, single) John when he enters a church service celebrating a nuclear family: Jesus, Mary and Joseph? Jesus’ birth family may have been well rounded in appearance, but consider this: Mary was pregnant out of wedlock and Joseph nearly divorced her. In turn we forget Mary was a single Mom most of her life.
Nor did Jesus hang out in the suburbs with nice “normal” church-going families. He was a blue color, single guy. He saved an adulteress from stoning. The Samaritan woman he engaged at the well lived with a man out of wedlock. Jesus ate with tax collectors and prostitutes. He even hung out at the docks and in the rough part of town. In short, Jesus broke boundaries, he didn’t create them. He welcomed and engaged everybody, regardless of who they were or how it reflected upon him.
We often joke about the “CEO Catholics” (those who attend at Christmas and Easter only) but why do they keep returning to our doors every year? What keeps them coming back? They are not finding the spiritual sustenance they need in the world. Like John Q nothing seems to satisfy the emptiness in their lives. But what do we have to offer them instead?
As Christian stewards what are we doing to welcome our CEO’s (and I don’t mean those who run companies)? How are we communicating to them they are welcome at our parish or in our homes? Are we the loving father of the prodigal son welcoming them with open arms…running to greet them? Or, are we the resentful older brother, who, because we never left (our church), feel entitled. Are we breaking boundaries or are we creating artificial ones?
This Christmas I ask you, I challenge you, to say hello to someone you don’t recognize at church. Greet people outside, as well as inside. Does John Q go up the stairs and enter the church on Christmas Eve? It might be your greeting or “Merry Christmas” or a thoughtful “How are you?” which makes the difference. We need to be like Jesus: welcoming everyone. We need to be the face of Christ to the world.
Dear God: When it comes to welcoming people let me be a boundary breaker.
“The church is the great lost and found department.” ~ Rev. Robert L. Short, Presbyterian minister and writer (1932-2009)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
John Q was a catholic in name only. Baptized in a Catholic church his parents had forced him to attend confirmation classes even though they never really went to Mass themselves. Occasionally they would attend a Christmas Midnight Mass or Easter service. John’s dad was fond of having a few to many “toddies” during Christmas Eve dinner. Then off they would go to Mass. His dad, still smelling of booze, would always nod off during the sermon. One year, he snored so loudly, the priest actually stopped mid sentence. That was the last time they ever went to Midnight Mass.
Now, at 37 years of age, John Q, for the first time in a long time, found himself outside a Catholic church…and on Christmas Eve no less. His divorce from his second wife had been final only a month earlier; his kids were spending Christmas with their Mom (his first wife) and her new husband. John’s girlfriend, a secular Jew, was back in New York visiting her family.
The office party had ended an hour or so earlier. Rather than drive home to an empty apartment John had chosen to walk for a while, to clear his head, and had ended up here. Even before tonight he had felt an emptiness in his life he couldn’t seem to fill. His efforts to find meaning and solace had failed. So here he stood, alone on Christmas Eve, in front of a Catholic Church.
He was invisible amidst the clamor of people coming to Christmas Eve services. Laughter was all around him as people greeted one another on there way up the broad stone stairs. With his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his black pea coat he wondered if there was an open bar close by. Maybe his dad always had one too many at Christmas just to fortify his courage to go to Mass.
“What am I doing here anyway?” he thought. The answer came back quietly but distinctly: “I’m here because I have no where else to go.” People were rushing in through the church doors now. Mass was about to begin. He could hear the organ playing and a familiar hymn being sung. His right foot rested on the bottommost step.
He looked back the way he had come. The streetlights seemed to dim for a moment. The siren song of the secular world tugged at him. “Surly there must be a bar or restaurant open close by” he thought. His focus returned to the church door and the music flowing from it, his weight shifted from one foot to the other…
Will John Q go in? More importantly how will he be received if he does? The “average Joe” no longer resides in a nuclear household (a married couple with their own children). In fact, we are not only diverse ethnically; we have become a nation of diverse living arrangements. Singles constitute 25.5% of households, the number of nuclear families has decreased 40% and the divorce rate is skyrocketing. The only truism is that most Americans will marry at least once in their lifetime, with the first marriage most likely ending in divorce.
So what message do we give (twice divorced, single) John when he enters a church service celebrating a nuclear family: Jesus, Mary and Joseph? Jesus’ birth family may have been well rounded in appearance, but consider this: Mary was pregnant out of wedlock and Joseph nearly divorced her. In turn we forget Mary was a single Mom most of her life.
Nor did Jesus hang out in the suburbs with nice “normal” church-going families. He was a blue color, single guy. He saved an adulteress from stoning. The Samaritan woman he engaged at the well lived with a man out of wedlock. Jesus ate with tax collectors and prostitutes. He even hung out at the docks and in the rough part of town. In short, Jesus broke boundaries, he didn’t create them. He welcomed and engaged everybody, regardless of who they were or how it reflected upon him.
We often joke about the “CEO Catholics” (those who attend at Christmas and Easter only) but why do they keep returning to our doors every year? What keeps them coming back? They are not finding the spiritual sustenance they need in the world. Like John Q nothing seems to satisfy the emptiness in their lives. But what do we have to offer them instead?
As Christian stewards what are we doing to welcome our CEO’s (and I don’t mean those who run companies)? How are we communicating to them they are welcome at our parish or in our homes? Are we the loving father of the prodigal son welcoming them with open arms…running to greet them? Or, are we the resentful older brother, who, because we never left (our church), feel entitled. Are we breaking boundaries or are we creating artificial ones?
This Christmas I ask you, I challenge you, to say hello to someone you don’t recognize at church. Greet people outside, as well as inside. Does John Q go up the stairs and enter the church on Christmas Eve? It might be your greeting or “Merry Christmas” or a thoughtful “How are you?” which makes the difference. We need to be like Jesus: welcoming everyone. We need to be the face of Christ to the world.
Dear God: When it comes to welcoming people let me be a boundary breaker.
“The church is the great lost and found department.” ~ Rev. Robert L. Short, Presbyterian minister and writer (1932-2009)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Noise Next Door
“Brotherhood is the very price and condition of man’s survival.”~Carlos P. Romulo, Filipino diplomat, politician, soldier, journalist and author (1899-1985)
Teresa and I sat across the table from our old friends Richard and Penny. Richard is a Federal Court Judge from Pittsburgh and Penny, a linguistics professor from Thailand. The music and noise from the next room was distracting making it hard to follow a conversation. It wasn’t exactly unbearable, but it was, without a doubt, annoying. The tables in our room were jammed so tightly together every time someone stood up their chair banged into the chair of the person behind them.
We were attending a Christmas party for the Italian Catholic Federation. Normally they are fun, festive affairs held in our Parish Hall. This year, however, the hall had been inadvertently double booked; over lapping our event with the Filipino Catholic Community’s annual Christmas party. In an effort to accommodate everyone it had been decided we would divide the hall space by way of a folding partition used to separate Religious Education classes. A single hallway connected the two rooms to the Parish kitchen which both groups were sharing as well.
What had first seemed like an amicable solution was quickly turning into an irritating debacle, however. The claustrophobic space and the cacophony produced by two very different styles of Christmas music playing simultaneously were making everybody edgy. I watched as Jim Fillipelli and John Viani communicated silently to one another with a glance and a nod. Like a couple of “wise guys” on an assignment they rose from their chairs and quietly slipped out, disappearing up the hallway. I wasn’t the only one who noticed their departure as the room got noticeably quieter with expectation.
Suddenly there was a loud thud at one end of the wall as the trip panel was shoved open allowing the wall panels to slide freely in their track. The partitions separated at the center and the panels began to slide apart folding up flat at the exterior walls. Several times the process had to be halted so tables could be moved out of the path of the folding walls. It quickly became apparent that Jim and John had negotiated a truce. It had been decided it was better to have one big Christmas party than two cramped little ones.
Serving tables and eating tables quickly blended together and suddenly everyone had more space. The feast was amazing: kare-kare (Filipino stew), seafood linguini, pancit, lasagna, lumpia, raviolis and chicken pork adobo. Then came the desserts: pizzelles, suman luya (sweet rice with ginger) biscotti, suman moran (chocolate rice cake), anisette cookies; there was even a flan of unknown ethnic origin. Isaiah’s holy mountain could not have had better food.
Richard and I leaned against the wall sipping our espressos, chatting with Julie Labatique who explained the Filipino dances to us. We watched as Filipino children bounced on the lap of an Italian Santa Claus. The cooks swapped samples, recipes, sources for key ingredients and helpful hints. Italian grandmothers with blue hair pinned in tight buns clapped out rhythms as Filipino teenagers danced the Tinikling (the National dance of the Philippines).
As the evening began to wind down I noticed the two members of the Filipino band (a guitar player and keyboardist) whispering to one another. Suddenly they struck up their version of “That’s Amore!” We all joined in even if it only meant yelling out “That’s Amore!” at the appropriate time. I was choking with laughter between my efforts to sing.
An hour later my wife and I found ourselves escaping into the parking lot with our white plastic bag of foil wrapped food (seafood pancit, lasagna and an assortment of cookies). We exchange anecdotes of the evening as we headed for our car. “Thank God everyone had the good sense to put the Christmas parties together,” Teresa observed. “Yes,” I replied, looking up at the full moon. “Thank God!”
What happened at that Christmas party? Was there really more room and more food or did it just seem that way? Why was it, when the wall finally came apart, irritation changed to joy? Why was it two very different worlds did not collide but blended gracefully together?
It was a stewardship moment. A vision of what the world could be. It was no longer a case of my room, but our room. It was no longer my food but our food. In one defining instant everyone had a moment of clarity when the good of all overcame what was advantageous for a few. Everyone was vested in everything. Everything became a gift, gratefully received and returned to God with increase. “Me” became “We” and we shared who we were…our cultures, our heritage, ourselves.
When we stop protecting who we are, start being who we are, and begin sharing who we are, our lives change dramatically.
This is what it means to enter a loop of grace. Through giving, we receive more in return than we would have if we had not shared. This includes sharing ourselves. Imagine what it would have been like if the two groups had stuck it out in their two confined spaces…the irritation, the agitation, the grumbling. But when we gave of ourselves to one another everything seemed bigger, better, happier.
This is very much the story of the multiplication of the loaves which appears in all four gospels. The more we give the more we receive in return. The more grateful we are and the happier we become. Jesus loved banquets and I am sure he enjoyed ours that evening.
Buon Natale or should I say Maligayang Pasko!!!!
Either way…MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Dear God, teach me to give of myself.
"Love is when someone gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing." ~Torquato Tasso, Italian Poet (1544-1595)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Teresa and I sat across the table from our old friends Richard and Penny. Richard is a Federal Court Judge from Pittsburgh and Penny, a linguistics professor from Thailand. The music and noise from the next room was distracting making it hard to follow a conversation. It wasn’t exactly unbearable, but it was, without a doubt, annoying. The tables in our room were jammed so tightly together every time someone stood up their chair banged into the chair of the person behind them.
We were attending a Christmas party for the Italian Catholic Federation. Normally they are fun, festive affairs held in our Parish Hall. This year, however, the hall had been inadvertently double booked; over lapping our event with the Filipino Catholic Community’s annual Christmas party. In an effort to accommodate everyone it had been decided we would divide the hall space by way of a folding partition used to separate Religious Education classes. A single hallway connected the two rooms to the Parish kitchen which both groups were sharing as well.
What had first seemed like an amicable solution was quickly turning into an irritating debacle, however. The claustrophobic space and the cacophony produced by two very different styles of Christmas music playing simultaneously were making everybody edgy. I watched as Jim Fillipelli and John Viani communicated silently to one another with a glance and a nod. Like a couple of “wise guys” on an assignment they rose from their chairs and quietly slipped out, disappearing up the hallway. I wasn’t the only one who noticed their departure as the room got noticeably quieter with expectation.
Suddenly there was a loud thud at one end of the wall as the trip panel was shoved open allowing the wall panels to slide freely in their track. The partitions separated at the center and the panels began to slide apart folding up flat at the exterior walls. Several times the process had to be halted so tables could be moved out of the path of the folding walls. It quickly became apparent that Jim and John had negotiated a truce. It had been decided it was better to have one big Christmas party than two cramped little ones.
Serving tables and eating tables quickly blended together and suddenly everyone had more space. The feast was amazing: kare-kare (Filipino stew), seafood linguini, pancit, lasagna, lumpia, raviolis and chicken pork adobo. Then came the desserts: pizzelles, suman luya (sweet rice with ginger) biscotti, suman moran (chocolate rice cake), anisette cookies; there was even a flan of unknown ethnic origin. Isaiah’s holy mountain could not have had better food.
Richard and I leaned against the wall sipping our espressos, chatting with Julie Labatique who explained the Filipino dances to us. We watched as Filipino children bounced on the lap of an Italian Santa Claus. The cooks swapped samples, recipes, sources for key ingredients and helpful hints. Italian grandmothers with blue hair pinned in tight buns clapped out rhythms as Filipino teenagers danced the Tinikling (the National dance of the Philippines).
As the evening began to wind down I noticed the two members of the Filipino band (a guitar player and keyboardist) whispering to one another. Suddenly they struck up their version of “That’s Amore!” We all joined in even if it only meant yelling out “That’s Amore!” at the appropriate time. I was choking with laughter between my efforts to sing.
An hour later my wife and I found ourselves escaping into the parking lot with our white plastic bag of foil wrapped food (seafood pancit, lasagna and an assortment of cookies). We exchange anecdotes of the evening as we headed for our car. “Thank God everyone had the good sense to put the Christmas parties together,” Teresa observed. “Yes,” I replied, looking up at the full moon. “Thank God!”
What happened at that Christmas party? Was there really more room and more food or did it just seem that way? Why was it, when the wall finally came apart, irritation changed to joy? Why was it two very different worlds did not collide but blended gracefully together?
It was a stewardship moment. A vision of what the world could be. It was no longer a case of my room, but our room. It was no longer my food but our food. In one defining instant everyone had a moment of clarity when the good of all overcame what was advantageous for a few. Everyone was vested in everything. Everything became a gift, gratefully received and returned to God with increase. “Me” became “We” and we shared who we were…our cultures, our heritage, ourselves.
When we stop protecting who we are, start being who we are, and begin sharing who we are, our lives change dramatically.
This is what it means to enter a loop of grace. Through giving, we receive more in return than we would have if we had not shared. This includes sharing ourselves. Imagine what it would have been like if the two groups had stuck it out in their two confined spaces…the irritation, the agitation, the grumbling. But when we gave of ourselves to one another everything seemed bigger, better, happier.
This is very much the story of the multiplication of the loaves which appears in all four gospels. The more we give the more we receive in return. The more grateful we are and the happier we become. Jesus loved banquets and I am sure he enjoyed ours that evening.
Buon Natale or should I say Maligayang Pasko!!!!
Either way…MERRY CHRISTMAS.
Dear God, teach me to give of myself.
"Love is when someone gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing." ~Torquato Tasso, Italian Poet (1544-1595)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Minister Ministry
“The human contribution is the essential ingredient. It is only in the giving of oneself to others that we truly live.” ~ Ethel Percy Andrus, American Educator and first woman principal in California (1884-1967)
Situated strategically between the steam table of white meat and the vat of cream gravy stood my wife Teresa, her large metal spoon poised over mounds of mashed potatoes and stacks of stuffing. It was the day before Thanksgiving and the St. Monica Thanksgiving dinner and clothes boutique for the less fortunate was in final preparation mode. A kind of ordered chaos had descended on the place. You know you’ve got a large scale ministry event when people volunteer to feed the volunteers.
Gerard to her left and Ana to her right Teresa and her partners were serving up lunch for the first wave of 600 volunteers. Gerard ran his non-stop patter of “white meat or dark” while Ana swirled gravy onto anything that wasn’t moving.
I was in line, approaching like a supplicant, my white paper plate extended in both hands. Having made sure Gerard served me only my prescribed portion of dark meat I gave my wife a wink to assure I got extra stuffing. And, before I could give her direction, Ana covered everything on my plate with gravy.
As I turned to leave a heavily accented voice stopped me, “You- haven’t-a-come-to-my-a-table-yet.” Turning toward the voice I came face to face with a spectacled, grandmotherly countenance. Her nickname was Meemee (short for Immaculata no doubt). She looked like something out of a greeting card: flowered house dress, a crocheted sweater, wire-rimmed glasses and sensible lace up black shoes. “Where are you from,” I asked? “Napoli,” she replied rhythmically. “You-needa-some-sweet-a-potatoes.” I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Sure,” I responded without thinking.
In the midst of the gravy, a generous portion of candied sweet potatoes landed on my plate. I turned to leave a second time. “You-don’t-a-have-a-no-pumpkin-pie.” After 30 plus years of Italian in-laws I knew better than to argue with Meemee over food or portions. Nothing makes an Italian happier than preparing food and serving it (unless it’s winning the world cup). “There’s no room on my plate,” I apologized. “That’s-a-no-problem,” Meemee said with a smile handing me a second plate. “You like serving food,” I observed. “I-a-do. But-it-would-be-a-better-if-a-I-had-a-little-glass-of-wine.” As I walked away I smiled to myself thinking they had put the perfect person in charge of that food table.
The contemporary church rests at a tipping point between the spiritual and the material worlds. God, in the unfolding of His creation, has blessed us with technology and management techniques to make us more efficient. When we apply these to the stewardship of time and talent (or what the secular world calls volunteerism) it gives us the ability to do more with less.
There is, however, an inherent danger here. Secular not-for-profit organizations often rationalize and frequently emotionalize their causes, but they rarely, if ever, spiritualize their efforts. We too, in our efforts to be more efficient and effective, run the risk of failing to nurture those who are of service to others…failing to spiritualize and even ritualize what we do. It is at this razor thin line of demarcation where simple volunteerism is delineated from ministry.
Like many things in our lives our efforts to do good works in the world more efficiently have resulted in our adopting business models of management. Volunteers are recruited, trained and managed just as we would recruit, train and manage employees. In this rush to be more efficient are we truly being more effective, or are we losing the human quality which distinguishes our efforts?
There is a difference between being an organization to which people donate their time and one which provides emotional and spiritual nourishment through active participation in ministry. Ministers are invited, formed and affirmed. Volunteers are recruited, trained and hopefully thanked.
We receive spiritual nourishment from being of service which nothing else can duplicate. It fills a hole in our soul no amount of possessions can. People need to be of service rather than simply providing service. We have an innate desire to do good works in the world. People need to do ministry more than we need people for ministry. Those of us who coordinate others (ministers or volunteers) should be constantly mindful of this need.
There is an indescribable mirth and excitement when people can sense they are making a difference in the lives of others. I saw it in the eyes of those who served me food that day. They had a sense of something “bigger than themselves”. It was not just about dishing out food, but about serving others.
Those of us who are the stewards of those who offer their time and talent for the betterment of the world have a responsibility to assure they are spiritually nourished and cared for. Often this means cherishing them and affirming them. Other times it means picking them up when things go horribly wrong. We are stewards of the stewards because sometimes ministering to the ministers is the ministry. Even if it means making sure they have an occasional “little glass of wine.”
Dear God: Help me to nourish the spirits of those who nourish the bodies and minds of others.
“If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery, French writer and aviator (1900-1944).
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Situated strategically between the steam table of white meat and the vat of cream gravy stood my wife Teresa, her large metal spoon poised over mounds of mashed potatoes and stacks of stuffing. It was the day before Thanksgiving and the St. Monica Thanksgiving dinner and clothes boutique for the less fortunate was in final preparation mode. A kind of ordered chaos had descended on the place. You know you’ve got a large scale ministry event when people volunteer to feed the volunteers.
Gerard to her left and Ana to her right Teresa and her partners were serving up lunch for the first wave of 600 volunteers. Gerard ran his non-stop patter of “white meat or dark” while Ana swirled gravy onto anything that wasn’t moving.
I was in line, approaching like a supplicant, my white paper plate extended in both hands. Having made sure Gerard served me only my prescribed portion of dark meat I gave my wife a wink to assure I got extra stuffing. And, before I could give her direction, Ana covered everything on my plate with gravy.
As I turned to leave a heavily accented voice stopped me, “You- haven’t-a-come-to-my-a-table-yet.” Turning toward the voice I came face to face with a spectacled, grandmotherly countenance. Her nickname was Meemee (short for Immaculata no doubt). She looked like something out of a greeting card: flowered house dress, a crocheted sweater, wire-rimmed glasses and sensible lace up black shoes. “Where are you from,” I asked? “Napoli,” she replied rhythmically. “You-needa-some-sweet-a-potatoes.” I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. “Sure,” I responded without thinking.
In the midst of the gravy, a generous portion of candied sweet potatoes landed on my plate. I turned to leave a second time. “You-don’t-a-have-a-no-pumpkin-pie.” After 30 plus years of Italian in-laws I knew better than to argue with Meemee over food or portions. Nothing makes an Italian happier than preparing food and serving it (unless it’s winning the world cup). “There’s no room on my plate,” I apologized. “That’s-a-no-problem,” Meemee said with a smile handing me a second plate. “You like serving food,” I observed. “I-a-do. But-it-would-be-a-better-if-a-I-had-a-little-glass-of-wine.” As I walked away I smiled to myself thinking they had put the perfect person in charge of that food table.
The contemporary church rests at a tipping point between the spiritual and the material worlds. God, in the unfolding of His creation, has blessed us with technology and management techniques to make us more efficient. When we apply these to the stewardship of time and talent (or what the secular world calls volunteerism) it gives us the ability to do more with less.
There is, however, an inherent danger here. Secular not-for-profit organizations often rationalize and frequently emotionalize their causes, but they rarely, if ever, spiritualize their efforts. We too, in our efforts to be more efficient and effective, run the risk of failing to nurture those who are of service to others…failing to spiritualize and even ritualize what we do. It is at this razor thin line of demarcation where simple volunteerism is delineated from ministry.
Like many things in our lives our efforts to do good works in the world more efficiently have resulted in our adopting business models of management. Volunteers are recruited, trained and managed just as we would recruit, train and manage employees. In this rush to be more efficient are we truly being more effective, or are we losing the human quality which distinguishes our efforts?
There is a difference between being an organization to which people donate their time and one which provides emotional and spiritual nourishment through active participation in ministry. Ministers are invited, formed and affirmed. Volunteers are recruited, trained and hopefully thanked.
We receive spiritual nourishment from being of service which nothing else can duplicate. It fills a hole in our soul no amount of possessions can. People need to be of service rather than simply providing service. We have an innate desire to do good works in the world. People need to do ministry more than we need people for ministry. Those of us who coordinate others (ministers or volunteers) should be constantly mindful of this need.
There is an indescribable mirth and excitement when people can sense they are making a difference in the lives of others. I saw it in the eyes of those who served me food that day. They had a sense of something “bigger than themselves”. It was not just about dishing out food, but about serving others.
Those of us who are the stewards of those who offer their time and talent for the betterment of the world have a responsibility to assure they are spiritually nourished and cared for. Often this means cherishing them and affirming them. Other times it means picking them up when things go horribly wrong. We are stewards of the stewards because sometimes ministering to the ministers is the ministry. Even if it means making sure they have an occasional “little glass of wine.”
Dear God: Help me to nourish the spirits of those who nourish the bodies and minds of others.
“If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery, French writer and aviator (1900-1944).
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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