April 21,1836, the Texian army defeated Santa Anna at the short Battle of San Jacinto. When the news reached the General (national) Conference of The Methodist Church, three men came forward to volunteer to be missionaries in the newly independent Republic of Texas.
One of them, Martin Ruter, was president of Allegheny College in Meadville, Pa. A fine scholar, he left that career to go to Texas. He had already done two spectacular things: 1) passed legislation in a previous national gathering to establish a college in every area as the Methodists moved westward (now numbering more than 170 nationwide), and 2) founded the Western Book Concern. Southwestern University at Georgetown was founded as Rutersville College in his honor.
After a short time in Texas, Ruter died of an illness and is buried in Navasota.
And today, we are connected. I got a reminder of his work: a catalog came from Cokesbury Books, now so named, which grew directly out of the Western Book Concern. This scholar who came to Texas as soon as he could, this one who could speak five languages and read and write seven others, this creative leader of lots of people, came to Texas.
He believed and gave his life in the fulfillment of the mission to Texas. That might not be YOUR mission, or MY mission, but he performed HIS mission in such a way that EVERYONE should be inspired to find and fulfill THEIR mission in life just as energetically.
Texans have a fine heritage! Sometimes as earthy as the backwoodsman, and sometimes as noble as the ones who shaped our high ideals. And almost uniquely to Texas, sometimes it was the backwoodsman WITH the high ideals who models out best.
Aim high.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
One Influential Rabbi
Dr. Goldstein, rabbi in Port Arthur, was an unforgettable character. Holder of five doctorates (Law, Philosophy, Medicine, Canon Law, History), a survivor of the Holocaust as a child, he had a love of life. Rabbi Goldstein drove an enormously long, old, gold Chrysler, and was "fearless" about things like stop signs and such.
I met him when he brought a program to the Port Arthur Ministers Alliances with a provocative title: "The Egyptian Roots of the Christian Communion." In part, it was a summary of the Passover rituals, and their influence on Communion through the Last Supper setting. But, in part, it was an exploration of Egyptian religion and its influence on the Hebrew Scriptures. Like most folks, I was of a mind that there was little influence flowing from Egyptian to Hebrew.
Moses grew up and was educated as an an Egyptian nobleman. He knew the law. He knew what was called the Book of Courtesies, much of which is quoted in Proverbs. And he knew another thing lost to us until after Napoleon's discovery of the Rosetta Stone: Egyptian poetry.
The spiritual poetry, with so much reflection on the world of nature and the mysteries of the stars, just the simple wonder of a starry night, was lost for such a long time. Each "new age" of rulers has always tended to erase the culture of the former dominant figures (just as the Spanish erased much of the Aztec and Inca cultures which they conquered.) But Moses knew it all well.
Bit by bit, we discover treasures, all over again, from the ancients. To slowly read ancient Egyptian poetry about the wonders of the created night sky, the magnificent gifts from the divine to the human, is to recognize that God has never hated any people, but revealed himself to those who seek him.
The key? Once I stop looking at the ancient world as a "more modern" person, and see the products of those of another time who are my equal, history and history's God begin to open into an incredibly broad view. God loves all his children. Never told more profoundly than in Jesus Christ, but never left UN-told.
(To follow up on some interesting reading: Awakening Osiris by Normandi Ellis, and The Hermetica by Freke and Gandy.)
I met him when he brought a program to the Port Arthur Ministers Alliances with a provocative title: "The Egyptian Roots of the Christian Communion." In part, it was a summary of the Passover rituals, and their influence on Communion through the Last Supper setting. But, in part, it was an exploration of Egyptian religion and its influence on the Hebrew Scriptures. Like most folks, I was of a mind that there was little influence flowing from Egyptian to Hebrew.
Moses grew up and was educated as an an Egyptian nobleman. He knew the law. He knew what was called the Book of Courtesies, much of which is quoted in Proverbs. And he knew another thing lost to us until after Napoleon's discovery of the Rosetta Stone: Egyptian poetry.
The spiritual poetry, with so much reflection on the world of nature and the mysteries of the stars, just the simple wonder of a starry night, was lost for such a long time. Each "new age" of rulers has always tended to erase the culture of the former dominant figures (just as the Spanish erased much of the Aztec and Inca cultures which they conquered.) But Moses knew it all well.
Bit by bit, we discover treasures, all over again, from the ancients. To slowly read ancient Egyptian poetry about the wonders of the created night sky, the magnificent gifts from the divine to the human, is to recognize that God has never hated any people, but revealed himself to those who seek him.
The key? Once I stop looking at the ancient world as a "more modern" person, and see the products of those of another time who are my equal, history and history's God begin to open into an incredibly broad view. God loves all his children. Never told more profoundly than in Jesus Christ, but never left UN-told.
(To follow up on some interesting reading: Awakening Osiris by Normandi Ellis, and The Hermetica by Freke and Gandy.)
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Canards and Canaries
The dictionary says:
Canard:
a : a false or unfounded report or story; especially : a fabricated report. b : a groundless rumor or belief.
"Canards" show up when political debates get long, when one side or the other is too eager for something persuasive, especially when they feel their argument is "in trouble" for one reason or another. They are the meat and potatoes of propaganda.
"Canaries" were the old-fashioned early warning signal for gasses inside mines. When the canary died, being sensitive to the gasses, it was time for the people to leave immediately.
Canards and canaries BOTH signal, in their own ways, that things are really going downhill. When a politician fabricates stuff, he or she begins to lose "believers". It is sometimes a desperate move.
You hear canards every day, usually making up "reasons" for things, or causes that really don't fit. One example of a canard is this one: "Women are about eight times more likely to die from cardiovascular disease than by breast cancer, so all that concern about breast cancer is overblown." Extreme and ridiculous, but an example of what can come up in a financial argument.
Physicians and surgeons already make more money than burger-flippers, some arguments seem to run, therefore we don't need to pay them much from Medicare. Canards appear attacking most anything that does not benefit ME personally. Ranting about property taxes is a good source for finding some, if you look.
So, in healthcare discussions, gun control discussions, any good hot-button conversation, when the "Here's why...." argument comes up with unbelievable stuff, you usually have some of those weird "canards". I would wager that the Congressional Record is the depository of the largest number anywhere in the world.
And they keep recurring! 53 years ago as a college sophomore, the debate topic was "National Health Insurance", and part of our task was to recognize and refute the same canards you can hear in any conversation or political speech on the subject today. More emotion than logic (death panels, for example) they still stir up folks.
But, if you've been fooled by these weird things once, maybe twice, they lose their influence (for most folks!) and we can get on with the conversation. Our nation has plenty of conversations that need to be productive, and fewer of these old propaganda tools running around.
Canard:
a : a false or unfounded report or story; especially : a fabricated report. b : a groundless rumor or belief.
"Canards" show up when political debates get long, when one side or the other is too eager for something persuasive, especially when they feel their argument is "in trouble" for one reason or another. They are the meat and potatoes of propaganda.
"Canaries" were the old-fashioned early warning signal for gasses inside mines. When the canary died, being sensitive to the gasses, it was time for the people to leave immediately.
Canards and canaries BOTH signal, in their own ways, that things are really going downhill. When a politician fabricates stuff, he or she begins to lose "believers". It is sometimes a desperate move.
You hear canards every day, usually making up "reasons" for things, or causes that really don't fit. One example of a canard is this one: "Women are about eight times more likely to die from cardiovascular disease than by breast cancer, so all that concern about breast cancer is overblown." Extreme and ridiculous, but an example of what can come up in a financial argument.
Physicians and surgeons already make more money than burger-flippers, some arguments seem to run, therefore we don't need to pay them much from Medicare. Canards appear attacking most anything that does not benefit ME personally. Ranting about property taxes is a good source for finding some, if you look.
So, in healthcare discussions, gun control discussions, any good hot-button conversation, when the "Here's why...." argument comes up with unbelievable stuff, you usually have some of those weird "canards". I would wager that the Congressional Record is the depository of the largest number anywhere in the world.
And they keep recurring! 53 years ago as a college sophomore, the debate topic was "National Health Insurance", and part of our task was to recognize and refute the same canards you can hear in any conversation or political speech on the subject today. More emotion than logic (death panels, for example) they still stir up folks.
But, if you've been fooled by these weird things once, maybe twice, they lose their influence (for most folks!) and we can get on with the conversation. Our nation has plenty of conversations that need to be productive, and fewer of these old propaganda tools running around.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
A Reality Check on "OLD"
I know, life gives you some reality checks when you start GETTING old, but there are some good moments to learn lots earlier that we sometimes want.
One of my first came in Zilker Park in Austin, in the swimming area then called Barton Springs.
Coldest water in the world! My great-aunt came for a visit, and wanted to swim a bit, so the whole family went. I was 10 at the time, and Laura was about 60. (In 10-year-old-eyes, that is OLD!!!) I waited on the long sidewalk as Laura came out of the bath-house, then we walked to the edge.
"Let's race across", she said with a grin. I thought: "this is NO challenge." But I remember being polite about it. Toes at the edge of the pavement, we both dove and hit the water at the same instant. It was SO COLD that I couldn't catch my breath, finally stood, and looked across at Laura stroking smoothly half-way across. No way to catch her, so I followed along.
"Race back?" she said. "Sure!" This time we started even, a standing start. No competition. She pulled easily away AGAIN. She waited, smiling at the bank where we'd started, and said (kindly) "You might be pretty good with practice, you know."
I was a kid, with a kid's little inexperienced world, so sure that the small, red-haired woman I was talking to was as old as the hills! Looking back at me with a world of understanding was Laura, director of Women's Physical Education and coach of the swim team at Tarleton College in Stephenville.
The lesson started then, but it took a long time to learn it (like every kid and most grown-ups) that: 'older than me is not over the hill'.
Laura loved teaching, loved physical competition, and she was (some years later) younger at 85 than some folks are at 30. She understood that faith is all about abundant life, and that kind of life just keeps growing and getting better, day after day. Her faith was not just about going-to-heaven-when-I-die; her faith was about being every ounce alive in every day that God gives.
And THAT is a reality check on getting older!
One of my first came in Zilker Park in Austin, in the swimming area then called Barton Springs.
Coldest water in the world! My great-aunt came for a visit, and wanted to swim a bit, so the whole family went. I was 10 at the time, and Laura was about 60. (In 10-year-old-eyes, that is OLD!!!) I waited on the long sidewalk as Laura came out of the bath-house, then we walked to the edge.
"Let's race across", she said with a grin. I thought: "this is NO challenge." But I remember being polite about it. Toes at the edge of the pavement, we both dove and hit the water at the same instant. It was SO COLD that I couldn't catch my breath, finally stood, and looked across at Laura stroking smoothly half-way across. No way to catch her, so I followed along.
"Race back?" she said. "Sure!" This time we started even, a standing start. No competition. She pulled easily away AGAIN. She waited, smiling at the bank where we'd started, and said (kindly) "You might be pretty good with practice, you know."
I was a kid, with a kid's little inexperienced world, so sure that the small, red-haired woman I was talking to was as old as the hills! Looking back at me with a world of understanding was Laura, director of Women's Physical Education and coach of the swim team at Tarleton College in Stephenville.
The lesson started then, but it took a long time to learn it (like every kid and most grown-ups) that: 'older than me is not over the hill'.
Laura loved teaching, loved physical competition, and she was (some years later) younger at 85 than some folks are at 30. She understood that faith is all about abundant life, and that kind of life just keeps growing and getting better, day after day. Her faith was not just about going-to-heaven-when-I-die; her faith was about being every ounce alive in every day that God gives.
And THAT is a reality check on getting older!
Friday, March 22, 2013
Ah, Grumpy Cat Profiles
Is there anyone who doesn't have a mental picture of "Grumpy Cat"? And, as important, is there anyone who doesn't know SOMEONE who really looks like "Grumpy Cat?"
I know someone, looks just like that famous cat, almost all the time. I first met her when we moved here as newcomers (more or less) about 10 years ago, looking not at all like "Grumpy Cat". She was very pleasant. I asked about background for her and her husband, and discovered they were "church people", devoted Christians who had spent much time in service. They described their history with warmth and friendliness, told of the joy they had had before their retirement, the different jobs they had done.
I listened, and then their turn came to ask. As soon as I said the denomination of my ministry, "Grumpy Cat" appeared. Short responses took over, mostly guaranteed conversation-stoppers. I was the wrong kind of cat! There was to be no "next" conversation. Over. Done.
The strategy from that point forward was a religiously based "shunning", an approach used by some groups to demonstrate their disagreement with other groups. It has yet to be demonstrated that "shunning" ever persuaded the one shunned to suddenly draw closer to the "shunner." The only result, so far as I know, ever, is to erect a wall that is then grumpily maintained over the years. Different groups have done this throughout history, and, as an example, you can find documented in the lives of American presidents and their families who has shunned who.
It has never seemed to have a good outcome, persuaded anyone, or drawn people or families together, but some do persist.
John Wesley evangelized in a time in England when polarization and shunning were familiar. He was banned from preaching in churches of the Church of England, although he remained a priest in that church until he died. His response was quite simple: let's lay aside the doctrinal fine points. "If your heart be as my heart, give me your hand." If you belong to Christ, if you love Jesus, if you are part of the Body of Christ, then we are close kin! That blew fresh air into the church in that day, blew out the smoke of old and smoldering arguments, and kindled a new joy into relationships.
Still works! Except for those who are committed to shunning. But along the way, you discover so many who DO respond to the joyful opening of new friendships, you soon don't take Grumpy Cat seriously.
There is so much joy to be discovered, it is worth it to put aside one of the rougher elements of human nature, and celebrate whoever it is that God places in front of you.
Smile. Take a hand. Find joy in life. Discover what Jesus intends for every life.
I know someone, looks just like that famous cat, almost all the time. I first met her when we moved here as newcomers (more or less) about 10 years ago, looking not at all like "Grumpy Cat". She was very pleasant. I asked about background for her and her husband, and discovered they were "church people", devoted Christians who had spent much time in service. They described their history with warmth and friendliness, told of the joy they had had before their retirement, the different jobs they had done.
I listened, and then their turn came to ask. As soon as I said the denomination of my ministry, "Grumpy Cat" appeared. Short responses took over, mostly guaranteed conversation-stoppers. I was the wrong kind of cat! There was to be no "next" conversation. Over. Done.
The strategy from that point forward was a religiously based "shunning", an approach used by some groups to demonstrate their disagreement with other groups. It has yet to be demonstrated that "shunning" ever persuaded the one shunned to suddenly draw closer to the "shunner." The only result, so far as I know, ever, is to erect a wall that is then grumpily maintained over the years. Different groups have done this throughout history, and, as an example, you can find documented in the lives of American presidents and their families who has shunned who.
It has never seemed to have a good outcome, persuaded anyone, or drawn people or families together, but some do persist.
John Wesley evangelized in a time in England when polarization and shunning were familiar. He was banned from preaching in churches of the Church of England, although he remained a priest in that church until he died. His response was quite simple: let's lay aside the doctrinal fine points. "If your heart be as my heart, give me your hand." If you belong to Christ, if you love Jesus, if you are part of the Body of Christ, then we are close kin! That blew fresh air into the church in that day, blew out the smoke of old and smoldering arguments, and kindled a new joy into relationships.
Still works! Except for those who are committed to shunning. But along the way, you discover so many who DO respond to the joyful opening of new friendships, you soon don't take Grumpy Cat seriously.
There is so much joy to be discovered, it is worth it to put aside one of the rougher elements of human nature, and celebrate whoever it is that God places in front of you.
Smile. Take a hand. Find joy in life. Discover what Jesus intends for every life.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Growing Up Fast
His Mom was a widow, he'd been told. No one mentioned she was, in the language of the day, a "grass" widow (a woman whose husband had just left). So when the state senator needed a page in Austin, he was eager to go.
At age 12, he was the page for the state senator from Tyler, discovering Austin. Legislative sessions are less than a half year, once every other year. So, before the Great Depression, he was living in Austin, at first with an uncle, and then in his own apartment, writing for a small newspaper.
At age 14, a man approached him on the Capitol grounds, asking about his relatives in Smith County, knowing all the names, but refusing to identify himself. A short conversation, then the man disappeared. This prompted him to pursue just exactly what had happened to his father. The truth came out, and he found his father living in Florida. By this time, as the Depression deepened, he was alone in Austin, with a secure job, feeling a bit detached from the economy around him.
Some folks grow up slowly, extending "youth" through graduate school, having to be "grown-up" as late as 28 or so. For him, it was like learning to swim by being thrown off the end of the pier!
The lesson in all this? It does not have to be made easy for a person to succeed. Success is a matter of finding purpose and direction, finding that internal compass which guides us to "make something happen".
(It can be a characteristic to search out in historical figures. From Abraham Lincoln becoming the best self-taught lawyer and orator in our history, to simple folks that you and I know, what happens internally is the key. )
The boy who started growing up very early went back to Austin after World War II, but this time as an honor doctoral student in graduate school, preparing to be a teacher. A calling to ministry interrupted him, in a way, turned a corner in his education, and the boy who left home at 12 became a life-time student, and an articulate pastor and preacher.
Some folks grow up fast, and discover that growing up doesn't ever need to stop! Jesus' gift of abundant life can always be a life-long adventure of becoming. And then looking back and celebrating just how good life has been!
At age 12, he was the page for the state senator from Tyler, discovering Austin. Legislative sessions are less than a half year, once every other year. So, before the Great Depression, he was living in Austin, at first with an uncle, and then in his own apartment, writing for a small newspaper.
At age 14, a man approached him on the Capitol grounds, asking about his relatives in Smith County, knowing all the names, but refusing to identify himself. A short conversation, then the man disappeared. This prompted him to pursue just exactly what had happened to his father. The truth came out, and he found his father living in Florida. By this time, as the Depression deepened, he was alone in Austin, with a secure job, feeling a bit detached from the economy around him.
Some folks grow up slowly, extending "youth" through graduate school, having to be "grown-up" as late as 28 or so. For him, it was like learning to swim by being thrown off the end of the pier!
The lesson in all this? It does not have to be made easy for a person to succeed. Success is a matter of finding purpose and direction, finding that internal compass which guides us to "make something happen".
(It can be a characteristic to search out in historical figures. From Abraham Lincoln becoming the best self-taught lawyer and orator in our history, to simple folks that you and I know, what happens internally is the key. )
The boy who started growing up very early went back to Austin after World War II, but this time as an honor doctoral student in graduate school, preparing to be a teacher. A calling to ministry interrupted him, in a way, turned a corner in his education, and the boy who left home at 12 became a life-time student, and an articulate pastor and preacher.
Some folks grow up fast, and discover that growing up doesn't ever need to stop! Jesus' gift of abundant life can always be a life-long adventure of becoming. And then looking back and celebrating just how good life has been!
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
One Generation and Another
My mother's best friend stayed in touch all their lives. Every trip meant a post-card, every holiday a greeting. By the time their 50th high school reunion came around, they were both eager to get back to Jacksonville.
Mom's friend had been her tennis partner in high school, and they made a run for the state tournament the last year. Having a familiar name in Galveston, and later in Indianapolis, she was always a fun guest to see in the hometown.
Taking Mom to her reunion, my son rode along.
"How did she get to Jacksonville today?" he asked.
"I think in her plane." Mom replied.
"She flew a plane???" he asked.
"Oh, probably not. I think she has a pilot now!"
"Probably not??? You mean what?"
"Well, Amelia Earhart was her idol when we were in high school, and she got a license early on. She's flown all over the world, and her husband has the record for being the oldest licensed pilot in Indiana. But today, I imagine her pilot flew the plane for her." Mom filled him in.
There was a long, almost silent sound from the back seat: "Wow!"
My son discovered in that moment that folks now old, in fact with LOTS of years, haven't always BEEN old. She and her husband had flown all over the world, hired pilots when they needed them, and finally graduated to a company plane when they no longer wanted to own one personally. She had studied Amelia Earhart just like my son had studied Luke Skywalker and a whole collection of basketball players.
And it was just like the day that my Dad said to me and to my son, "Now, when you go to Austin, and visit the State Capitol, don't you be even thinking about crawling out a second floor window and walking that ridge that goes all the way around the outside of the building. Don't even think about it!" Which immediately did two things: first, it made us look at that ridge and check out that it was possible to do it! and second, re-envision my Dad as an adventurous teenager!
What do you see? Ah, what do you perceive? I see an older neighbor all ancient and stooped, but I perceive a 19-year old fearless young man (hidden inside) who flew back and forth over Omaha Beach, in the early morning darkness, flying paratroopers behind the enemy lines on D-Day.
Seeing doesn't amount to much without the perceiving! And there's a world to perceive all around us.
Mom's friend had been her tennis partner in high school, and they made a run for the state tournament the last year. Having a familiar name in Galveston, and later in Indianapolis, she was always a fun guest to see in the hometown.
Taking Mom to her reunion, my son rode along.
"How did she get to Jacksonville today?" he asked.
"I think in her plane." Mom replied.
"She flew a plane???" he asked.
"Oh, probably not. I think she has a pilot now!"
"Probably not??? You mean what?"
"Well, Amelia Earhart was her idol when we were in high school, and she got a license early on. She's flown all over the world, and her husband has the record for being the oldest licensed pilot in Indiana. But today, I imagine her pilot flew the plane for her." Mom filled him in.
There was a long, almost silent sound from the back seat: "Wow!"
My son discovered in that moment that folks now old, in fact with LOTS of years, haven't always BEEN old. She and her husband had flown all over the world, hired pilots when they needed them, and finally graduated to a company plane when they no longer wanted to own one personally. She had studied Amelia Earhart just like my son had studied Luke Skywalker and a whole collection of basketball players.
And it was just like the day that my Dad said to me and to my son, "Now, when you go to Austin, and visit the State Capitol, don't you be even thinking about crawling out a second floor window and walking that ridge that goes all the way around the outside of the building. Don't even think about it!" Which immediately did two things: first, it made us look at that ridge and check out that it was possible to do it! and second, re-envision my Dad as an adventurous teenager!
What do you see? Ah, what do you perceive? I see an older neighbor all ancient and stooped, but I perceive a 19-year old fearless young man (hidden inside) who flew back and forth over Omaha Beach, in the early morning darkness, flying paratroopers behind the enemy lines on D-Day.
Seeing doesn't amount to much without the perceiving! And there's a world to perceive all around us.
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