Remembering a Saint, in His Own Right...

My grandfather died, unexpectedly on Thursday afternoon. I had both the honor and the awesome difficulty of co-officiating his funeral. What follows is the manuscript I have prepared over the past few days...

Ecclesiastes famous words, as Sister Joan Chittister, a Benedictine Sister of Erie, Pennsylvania points out that “Calamity is the human’s true touchstone...” “Calamity, in other words,” Chittister writes, “lets loose the fire that tries the gold, the wind that tests the tree, the water that sweeps away everything in life that is not anchored, not grounded, not imbedded in the firmament of souls. Without calamity what shall we ever be and how shall we ever know it?”

There is no doubt that there is a time to weep and a time to laugh. For Grampy, life was a party looking for a place to happen. Life was meant to be lived and experienced and wasn’t meant to be idly wasted. He managed to laugh about everything and celebrate the smallest of accomplishments, whether it was spotting an extra can along the side of the road, while coasting from the home he affectionately called the ‘little house on the praire’ to ‘the camp’ located on Monson Pond--a place he thought was heaven. Or whether it was a graduation of one of his grandchildren. When I graduated from high school, as each name was called, there were cheers. After my name was called there was this loud baritone voice bellowing from the third row calling, “YAAAAY Bubba!” a nickname assigned by my youngest sister, Alexandria, when she was learning to talk and couldn’t say ‘Jordan.’ A stunt that he was very proud of, and that caused the crowd to begin to laugh--and, I have to admit one that made an exciting event even more exciting. It was an event that highlights, in reflection, how important each day, no matter what came, each day was, in his death we are reminded once again how important each day is.

Whether you knew him well or not, you know Grampy loved to laugh. In every situation there was something to find that was humorous. He lived as though he was the most important person in the world, and indeed he was, at certain times, the most important person in the world to each of us. And, it was at those moments that we were all convinced that we were queens, princes, and princesses. That we were on top of the world. It wasn’t so much in the events and situations but the perspective on the situation. Grampy liked to tell stories, and still we are not sure exactly how true some of the stories were, but he enjoyed telling them and no matter how many times we heard them, we would continually be captivated by them. He would be wearing a piece of his costume jewelry, or at least I think it was costume--it could have easily been real, after all Grampy insisted that one of the diamonds would buy the maroon buick that he and grammy had or his pick up. When we were children, Grammy wanted a convertible to cruise around town in. In true Grampy fashion he bought a bright red convertible. Years passed and eventually they got busy with other things and the car was stored for a year or two. When I began undergraduate, I began at University of Maine at Presque Isle and would spend a lot of time with both grammy and grampy. I needed a car and got a job working at the video store and arcade that was in the mall in Presque Isle and set a goal to buy a car. He decided that he would sell the convertible to me-- for a fair price. I bought a bright red Dodge Shadow Convertible for one dollar...plus sales tax, of course. It was such a good deal that the seller, Grampy, registered and inspected it, too. Now, the purchase of this, my first car, lead to a few challenges. Not the least of which was that I learned to drive on an automatic and the convertible was a five speed. So, Grampy decided he was also going to enroll me in “Gordon Glew’s Driving Academy.” He had two lessons. 1) feel the rhythm of the engine and shift when it feels right. 2) when at the bottom of a very steep hill with a traffic light, under no circumstance are you to stop...even if the light is red. To teach me how to drive, he took me out to the end of the Sam Everett Road hopped out of the car and said, “see you at home!” and proceeded to walk home. Looking at the situation I had two choices...1) walk home, abandoning my ‘new car’ or 2) learn how to drive the car, without injuring myself or anyone else in the process. I still have a little whip lash...but I learned how to drive what Grampy affectionately referred to as the ‘limosine.’ 'A true testament to how he viewed life.

When I was even younger, Grampy decided that he and Larry McKinney, were going to take Dad and me on a fishing trip on Fish River. Dad and I were in one canoe and Larry and Grampy were in the other, both with small outboard motors. Grampy was seated in the bow of the boat, in a chair, legs stretched out and about a half of an inch of skin showing. Later that day the strip of skin that had been exposed to the hot sun and thick mosquitos proved to be bitten and burned. On top of the misfortune which seemed to cause him to need to milk the situation for all it's worth, it was hot...really, really hot. I had my bathing suit, so I decided I was going swimming and hopped in the river. Not long after, Grampy, who never swam--I’m pretty sure he didn’t know how to swim, dove in as well. I rushed out to snap a picture and he assured me, up until the last time I spoke with him that no body would believe that, that was him...because he thought it looked to much like a stump.

One, perhaps little known bit of information about Grampy, was that he LOVED to cook breakfast. When we would come to visit he would rise at 5:30am, make coffee and immediately begin cooking breakfast: pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and his infamous baked potato hash; a concoction only he knew how to prepare. The problem in this situation was two-fold. 1) you had to be up early. If you weren’t up by 6:30am, he’d open the door to the stairwell leading upstairs and start bellowing “rise and shine!” “It’s time to get up!” 2) you HAD to eat it.

There is certainly a time for everything. What I think Grampy would disagree with is that there is a certain time to love. Regardless of time and place it was always a time to love and to share that love by being generous. As is witnessed by his gift--or generous sale, if you work for the IRS, of the convertible.

We grieve...we have grieved as if there is no hope and as if there is much hope. The man, the myth, the legend, Gordon Glew has passed from this life to the next. On my 5 hour drive from Boothbay Harbor I talked with friends on the phone. The first friend I talked with, after telling her some stories, there was an extended silence. Then she said, “well, it sounds like your grandfather was upset that the world didn’t end on May 21st and so he had to go give Jesus a hard time.” Still, we grieve. We hold onto the good times, the times of collecting bottles, or buying red hot dogs at Irving, or even taking his grandchildren to buy a Sam’s Club cola for 35 cents and then going to McDonald’s for a hamburger...because it was cheaper. A couple of us thought we were criminals as we smuggled our contraband into the restaurant and quietly sat at the table.

We have been bruised and battered, the long road of declining health and the sudden death of Grampy have left us bruised and battered on the inside, some of us developing a hard calloused exterior--the last couple of days have been tough, very, very tough. There have been tears shed, arguments had, there has been uproarous laughter as we, as a family, have remembered “Brother, Husband, Dad, and Grampy.” Now is the time to grieve, to grieve ‘the man, the myth, the legend.’ In our grieving, we remember--we tell stories and speak of the great gift that we had in Grampy and the legacy he set in motion on March 1, 1930.
God did a good thing in the life of Grampy. As Alfred Lord Tennyson so eloquently wrote, “God touched him, and he slept.” After a lifetime of long, hard work, seldom complaining about the tasks which were set before him, he sleeps a well deserved sleep. Verse 15 of Ecclesiastes says, “That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by.” There is hope in the promise of everlasting life, of comfort, of rejoicing in the gift of the life of Grampy. A life that was well lived. On my drive north I saw a bumper stickers--there is a lot of truth in bumper stickers, so I tend to try to pay attention to them, when I can. It said, “Life’s journey is not to arrive at the grave safely, in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting “Holy Crap, what a ride!” I can guarantee that Grampy entered his eternal life skidding sideways, totally worn out, and shouting “YEEEEHAWWW, What a ride!”

The Obituary is here: http://obituaries.bangordailynews.com/obituaries/bangordailynews/obituary.aspx?n=gordon-glew&pid=151317548&sms_ss=facebook&at_xt=4de197731598add5%2C0

Movin' on up...

The proverbial wheels have begun turning and in exactly one month from today I will preach my final sermon as a clergy person of the Boothbay Region United Methodist Cooperative Parish, in the pulpit of First United Methodist Church of Boothbay Harbor, Maine. As I am preparing for this final Sunday, which happens to be Pentecost, I am simultaneously turning my thoughts to my new congregation, Sudbury United Methodist Church.

Moving is an occupational expectation as a United Methodist Minister. In fact, settled ministry, or the one church/one preacher model that we have become so comfortable with is a relatively new invention in the United Methodist system. In the early days of American Methodism circuit riders would be responsible for dozens of Methodist Societies and would ride from town to town preaching, supplementing the work of the laity and administering the sacraments.

I can’t say that I would like to move back to circuit riding, as much as I enjoy traveling and staying busy with 3 churches and having to share them with another pastor by swapping off each week I have found it difficult to create and maintain that deep relationship that a congregation and a pastor develops with every congregation.

This year has offered a lot of really great opportunities for learning both about myself and about the inter-workings of churches in a traditional fishing village on the coast of Maine. I’ve learned that congregations rarely care if you’ve carefully exegeted a particular passage of scripture, mostly because the word outside of the Academy is a strange, foreign one that needs careful explanation. They care if you’ve prepared well for Sunday morning, yes, but more importantly they care about whether God loves them and they really need to hear, from their preacher’s lips, that God does love them.

I’ve learned that it is easy to get bogged down with budgets and financial issues and that those things can scare even the greatest of people. We live in a time that is not friendly to the local church. People are leaving in droves, the majority of churches in Maine are facing hard decisions about who they employ and what ministries they continue to support. When we focus solely on our budget and the amount that is being put in the offering plate on Sunday morning, we forget why we exist. We forget that the church exists to glorify God and proclaim that Christ is risen! Yet, that is difficult to do when a congregation is worried about whether they are going to be able to pay their pastor, organist, or secretary that week. Further, it is difficult to ‘deny [ourselves], take up [our crosses] and follow [Christ]’ when we focus on our money problems by holding on tight to what little we do have instead of giving it away so that others may share in the abundance of God’s blessings. If, instead of wallowing in our own problems of not enough we as the question, ‘what is it that this community needs that God is calling us to provide?’ we begin to share the good news and in ways that not only feeds those who have not heard the Word before but also feeds the disciples who are serving.

Finally, I’ve learned the important words of the prophet Micah, “Do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with your God...” (Micah 6:8) The prophetic vision of justice is one that can’t be laid aside if we are to be actively engaged in the ministry which God is calling us to. Instead the church must be on the front lines of justice and in the face of injustice proclaiming God’s love for everyone--that all people, no matter what, are the recipients of God’s love. That unless we are willing to march with union workers, fight for just healthcare coverage, and stand up and protect migrant workers we are not doing our job. What’s more, I have learned that to do so is to take a risk. That risk will make your heart pound, will make your body shake, and if the weather is cold enough threaten frost bite; but, it is the church’s calling to stand in solidarity with the oppressed when rights are threatened. It is the pastor’s responsibility to connect the church to the front lines in a way that does not push aside those who disagrees with the cause, but invites them into the conversation and makes the church a wellspring of conversation and debate, allowing people to speak their mind lovingly, to worship and pray together, and then take to the world their theologically sound interpretation of the issues and causes.

As I pack boxes and separate out stuff that will go to the thrift shop and stuff that will move with me the Sudbury, I can’t help but thank God for, what Lillian Daniel and Martin Copenhaver describe as, ‘this odd and wondrous calling.’

Where we've been and where we're headed...

Every morning when I sit behind my desk, hunching over my laptop computer, behind a stack of books and paper which undoubtedly includes a sheet of paper with a long to-do list, I thank God that I can do what I love, though it is often overwhelming. Every time the phone rings and at the other end is someone that needs to talk, needs help with something, or needs to reconfirm a meeting I thank God for the opportunity to serve them in that manner. And late Saturday night, as I am putting the finishing touches on Sunday morning’s sermon, I am glad to say that I love my job.
There are many other reasons I love my job--I get to meet really incredible people, I get to hold a dying persons hand and five minutes later hold a new born baby. The road to get here was not easy. As a child I was diagnosed with a learning disability and if it was not for good, dedicated teachers, a school psychologist, and two dedicated parents I would not have graduated from high school. When I got to high school, if it had not been for dedicated teachers I would not have had the opportunity to explore areas of interest, like Maine politics, music, and geography; among the plethora of other mandatory courses like Algebra, Chemistry, and Biology. If it was not for hardworking, dedicated, unionized teachers I would not have had the opportunity to receive a Bachelor of Arts from one of our state’s fine public universities. Further, if it was not for the hard working, dedicated professors at that public university I would not of have the opportunity to sit where I do today, working in a profession I love.
There is more to the story, though. I am the son of a man who grew up in a potato farming family in Aroostook county and a woman who grew up the daughter of a unionized railroad engineer. My mother and father instilled the value of hard work at a young age. When my father’s potato house burned to the ground in the mid-1980’s we moved from the tiny northern Maine town to southern Maine, where my father was able to procure a union job at a local company. I remember, as a child, watching him work long, arduous hours. To say he loved every position he held at that institution would be exaggerating. I am sure if I were to ask him he would not waist anytime identifying at least one position he disliked in the 20 years he worked for that company.
Today, both of my parents work in a factory. Both of them, like many of the people of the state of Maine, work hard and depend on certain rights that were won after long, hard fights throughout history. The story of how those rights came to be is a powerful one and one that is as important as the story of the woman at the well in the Gospel of John or the story of the prodigal son in the Gospel of Luke; because, the story is ours. It is a story of strikes, marches, and people willing to risk everything to gain very little. It is a story of women’s right to vote, to work, to be paid a wage equal to their male counterparts. It is a story of Franco-American factory workers finding solidarity and standing up for better working conditions in the mills of Lewiston-Auburn. It is the story of a woman, who became the first woman to hold a senior cabinet position in the United States, another woman who later became the first woman to serve in the United States Congress.
The recent removal of the mural that once hung in the Department of Labor offices is more than a Governor over reaching the power of his office to exploit Maine people, or offering ill-taste in redecorating a public office, it is an attempt to erase our story--the story of teachers, steel-workers, fire-people, police officers, and so many other public servants on whose back this great state has grown. It is an attempt to erase the story of so many students who have struggled and of good teachers who were there to encourage, give tools to succeed, and to open doorways that some never knew existed.
My forth grade teacher, Mrs. Peterson, showed me that I could do anything if I set my mind to it, which was often a difficult lesson learned. Her strict manner left little room to waste time. She also taught me, whether she realized it or not, to recognize the urgency in some matters, that hard work is a blessing, and that you should never give up. The people of the state of Maine are at a cross-road: we either compromise our scruples and unconcernedly accept a tyrannical erasing of our story and exploitation of all we have, or we stand up for what is good and right, holding on to our story as hard-working, independent Mainers.
It would not be appropriate for me to jump on my soapbox without, of course, offering some sort of biblical citation with which to arm all readers of this, my humble opinion. If you attend a church or make a habit of reading the revised common lectionary the readings for the last two weeks and the next few weeks highlight the importance of looking at where we have come from to determine where it is God is calling us to go. The Samaritan Woman at the well, in John 4:5-42, not only is asked to analyze where she had come from, but to go back to where she came from before following Jesus’ teachings. If we are to effectively progress, we must be reminded of where we came from, from time to time. The mural that once hung in the office of the Department of Labor was, no is, a reminder of our past and in being so, is a celebration of what we can once again accomplish.

Luke 14:7-14

Jesus’ words are hard to swallow and yet all to instructive. When you’re invited to a wedding banquet, he points out, ‘don’t chose the place of honor.’ Don’t assume that the best seat in the house is for you. How embarrassing would it be to have to be asked to move? Can you imagine? Here’s this huge, extravagant wedding--the event of the year. Bigger than Taylor Swift coming to Maine to shoot a music video. We’re talking Chelsea Clinton wedding big. You’re dressed in your tux or evening gown, after all such an occasion requires your very best clothes, you hire a car to pick you up, a close friend such as this, you must arrive in style. You arrive, there are cameras everywhere, people wanting to meet you, dying to know your relationship to the bride and the groom, people are commenting on your gown, who designed it? Gucci, Versa chi? Calvin Kline? An up and coming designer? Are the sparkles all in the right place? Why did someone decide to put a huge daisy right in the middle of the chest? Or, why did the designer choose to use red and green on a dress that would be worn to a summer wedding? I’ve been informed recently that, that is a faux paux.

As you enter the building the host asks, ‘bride or groom,’ you respond ‘personal friend of the bride...’ After all you’ve met her once, in college, when you went to different schools together. You were in the same state for a few days, when her family vacationed in Maine...once. She’s practically family!

After you’re seated, by an unassuming usher, the wedding coordinator comes up to you, “excuse me...?” “Yes...” “Your name again please...?” “Shaw... is there a problem?” “It seems as though you are not listed on the guest list, anywhere and I’m going to have to ask you to leave...” “Pardon me? Ms. Clinton will be very upset when she finds out I am being asked to leave, you see we graduated from different high schools in different years and I’m sure that she’s heard my name at least once, perhaps from that letter I wrote her father when he was president...” “No sir, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to leave...” “You don’t know what you’re doing..., Ms. Clinton and I were once campers at a summer camp, at different camps, in different states...possibly different countries...but what is a country really...” “sir?” “I bought a new bow tie especially for the occasion...” “That’s nice...I’m sure they’ll enjoy it on the other side of the metal detectors and secret service...”

This morning’s Gospel reading is intricately placed between the story of Jesus’ interaction with the crippled woman, we heard last week, in which the woman shows up to the temple physically, emotionally, and spiritually broken and Jesus gently heals her; and, Jesus’ parable of the ‘Great Banquet. In its mere placing, there is cause for pause, cause for a deep breathe and a moment of meditation on Jesus’ commands in this passage. If you show up for a banquet, take the lesser seat, lest there be someone more important, or more honored...later on he points out, when you throw a luncheon or a dinner, don’t just invite your friends...they’ll repay you, but invite the stranger. The person that may not be able to repay you...luke writes, “when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you...” In other words...never think you are above the person suffering the most among you.

Yesterday marked the 47th anniversary of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King jr.’ ‘I have a Dream” speech. Dr. King, best known, and closely associated with the struggle for racial justice in the 1940’s, 1950’s, and 1960’s, also advocated for economic justice--the closing of the gap between the people living in the poorest conditions among us and the people living in the richest conditions among us. Between people whose lives are dictated by the friendliness, or lack there of, of the streets, and people who own multiple homes, foreign cars, people whose lives are dictated by the New York Stock Exchange and people who have only seen the exterior of the exchange as they walk by, hoping for a meal that evening. Dr. King saw the interconnectedness of racism and classism. Dr. King had many strengths...one of which was his ability to see everyone’s contribution to ‘the cause’ as valid...not just the rich or the high profile supports of equal rights, but everyone’s. He said...”I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering.” He goes on with a charge...”Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.” ...go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.”

Perhaps, one of the most important lessons, that Dr. King ratified, though, was two-fold. 1) remain humble. Remain willing to be cast off feelings of self-righteousness, and to see the humanness of others. See the need for love and compassion that others possess and, in our own need for love and compassion, our ability to give the gift. 2) See the needs of others as our needs...our need for love, forgiveness, and feelings of adequacy are shared across humanity and we need only see our selves in relation to one another as a Child of God, in order to begin to accept the gift so freely given.

We have shown up to the great feast. We have taken our place. Unlike the high profile wedding, there is no paparazzi, high profile guests, security guards, or any one person that is more important than the next. Our host knows all our failings, all our faults, and still we are called, just as we are, to receive the great gift of God’s love, in return offering nothing but our imperfect, unworthy selfs.

Amen.

You Want Me to do WHAT!?

Picture it: You are standing in a large crowd surrounded by hundreds even thousands of people who, like you, have travelled far to hear this rabble-rouser Jesus preach and teach. You’ve travelled long hours in the hot desert sun from the east to a hilly knoll where you take your place among people from all over the region. Suddenly the crowd gets a bit quieter as this Rabbi begins to teach. His message is like none other you’ve ever heard. He speaks about loving those who hate you, about making peace with those you are angry with, and about proclaiming a radical new vision of the kingdom of God. A way of living that no matter who you are, the wrongs you have committed, or the amount of money in your purse you are loved and accepted by God. There’s just something about his message that intrigues you, it’s so counter to what you have heard previously. It encourages peacefully speaking out against the wrongs of the Roman occupation, it encourages a new look at sacrificial atonement, and on top of all of this, Jesus himself is claiming to be the divine son of God Almighty.

As you listen Jesus gets to a point where he’s calling out to the crowd, inviting anyone that feels so called to proclaim the gospel to step forward, to commit to going forth from the comforts of their homes and proclaim the good news to a world ripe with war, violence, poverty, and disease. Before you can stop yourself you jump up, after all you had comfortably seated yourself in a place where there was some hope of shade from the afternoon sun. You make your way forward. Before you realize what is happening Jesus has his hands on your head commissioning you to spread this new way of doing things. Suddenly your life went from a comfortable peaceful existence to something totally different. Suddenly you have been asked to give up your shoes! In favor of walking barefoot from town to town. Which also means that you’ll be asked to give up other comforts. There goes that favorite tunic, the comfortable tent, the lucrative sheep herd. Suddenly, your life just got a whole lot more simple and as a result, a lot more complicated.

W. Somerset Maugham, English author and playwright most famous for novels Of Human Bondage and Cakes and Ale, wrote, “Nothing in the world is permanent, and we’re foolish when we ask anything to last, but surely we’re still more foolish not to take delight in it while we have it. If change is of the essence of existence one would have thought it only sensible to make it the premise of our philosophy.” Friends, our lives are on the cusp of dramatically changing. We have lead very separate lives in the same direction. One image that often comes to mind in thinking about this is Camp Mechuwana, where I have spent the past 10 years working as part of the seasonal staff. As you drive along the dusty dirt road past the welcome Garden, Basketball courts, Soccer field, several camping areas, winding past the dining commons and down the hill toward the lodge you inevitably have to, at some point turn around, at least to head back up the hill for Supper. There are various pathways, and 2 roads that lead back to the dining commons. The most popular are the main camp road that we just drove down and the Owl trail which follows the same route as the road to the top of the hill, but through the woods--giving ample opportunity to see wildlife and for kids to complain about having to walk up the hill. We all began at the top of the road and we will all eventually have to drive on to our next stop but on the way we get to spend time together, we get to share a meal together, like we will do in a moment. Our Sunday meal that starts off our week, that begins our time together. In our time together we will disagree, we may argue, we may flip a few canoes in the middle of the lake but we do it with the knowledge that as a quote in a welcome email I received this week says, “God [has] led us to this, God will see us through this.”

The change in the seventy that Jesus called, commissioned, and sent on their way was inevitable. They were no longer who they were previously. Their time for awakening had come. All they could do was answer Christ’s call on their lives.

I love to go for walks. When I was a freshman in college, at the University of Maine at Presque Isle I would walk Main Street almost every night. Generally it was time for me to be with God. It was a time that I could get angry with God, or challenge the existence of God and somehow I was reassured. One particular evening in November or December I think it was, I was on my usual walk and finally got it. Instead of an Abercrombie and Fitch model I was being called into ministry. Now I know what you’re thinking: why not Ambercrombie and Fitch. Well when the Holy Spirit is moving, the Holy Spirit is moving as I began to explore this pull with my pastor and the District Superintendent there were times I was anxious, scared, ready to run the other way. God kept pulling though. I had already picked up the phone and no matter how many times I tried to hang up God had my number on redial. As a result a change has taken place. I am no longer the person I was those 8 years ago, nor will I be the same person in another 8 years.

Friends, we are embarking on a journey that has never been tried in this part of the country ever before. 3 churches, 2 co-pastors, one common mission: to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. Just as that person who answered Christ’s call and was sent out as one of the seventy was scared, anxious, went out on a limb, so we do as well. Just as that person had God on his or her side, so we do, too. Friends the journey will bring a few pot holes and rocks in our shoes from walking the dusty road to dinner, but we make the journey together, carrying the knowledge and love of Christ Jesus everywhere we go.