The Road to Emmaus

Posted on April 5, 2013 by smaxreisert

Some of my favorite Bible stories are post-Resurrection stories—doubting Thomas, the breakfast of fish and bread (both stories from John). My favorite is the Road to Emmaus story, from the Gospel of Luke.

In the story, two of Jesus’ followers are heading out of Jerusalem, on the Sunday after the crucifixion, on their way to a place called Emmaus. Though the text does not say why they had set out for Emmaus, we can guess that they probably thought the story was over, that Jesus was gone forever. He had been crucified on Friday and had not been seen since, despite the news that the tomb had been found empty.

As the two followers walked along the dusty road, they talked about the events that had taken place in Jerusalem. At some point, Jesus himself “came near.” The followers did not recognize their friend and their teacher. They thought him to be a stranger.

The stranger asked to share their conversation and the two followers—one named Cleopas, but the other unnamed—talked about the terrible events that had taken place.

And, then the stranger, beginning with the story of Moses, shared with them what was contained in the scriptures. Still, Cleopas and the other follower, failed to recognize their friend and teacher.

When they arrived at Emmaus, the stranger looked like he was planning to continue his journey, but Cleopas and the other urged him strongly to stay and to eat with them. After all, it was getting late in the day.

As they sat at the table, the guest took the bread, blessed it and broke it, and gave it to them. And as they began to share the meal together, there came a burning in their hearts and they recognized the risen Christ. And, as soon as they recognized him, he vanished from their sight.

This wonderful story offers many lessons. Two of those lessons are especially important for Christians in this Easter season.

The first is that, we don’t always recognize Jesus Christ, even when he’s very close to us. The Christian writer Frederick Buechner has wondered if Cleopas and the other follower had a hard time recognizing Jesus because they really had never truly recognized him during his earthly life.

Those of us who identify as Christian and for whom the Christian faith is vitally important, must acknowledge that we sometimes have difficulty recognizing the risen Christ in our midst. At the beginning of the story, Cleopas and the other seem to have been looking for a magnificent, special effects kind of event on that Sunday morning, the third day after the crucifixion. But that didn’t happen, and though there were tales of the empty tomb, the two followers walk away, perhaps to get away from what they perceived as unfulfilled promises.

Even though the risen Christ “came near” to them and shared conversation about the events and what was contained in the scriptures, the two followers still could not come to that place of recognition. Recognition is sometimes—maybe often—difficult. The risen Christ comes to us in unexpected ways and in unexpected places.

The other important lesson is that those wonderful moments of recognition, those epiphanies in our lives of faith, are fleeting. We cannot hold onto them as precious jewels. As soon as that burning in their hearts came, and they recognized the risen Christ, he vanished from their sight.

Moments of epiphany feed us for a moment, but then we must continue the journey to the next place. Moments of recognition are brief, and do not contain all of the truth of Christ’s presence.

Our spirits are fed, but yet we are also drawn further into the story. Easter isn’t simply about the amazing news of resurrection, it is also about the continuing journey of discovering what it means to follow and to recognize our Risen Savior, who bursts through the tombs of our lives and beckons us to follow, often in ways that do not conform to our preconceived notions.

The challenge of Easter is to open our hearts and our minds to the unexpected nature of God’s presence with us.

Posted in Bible | Leave a comment

Death and Life

Posted on March 30, 2013 by smaxreisert

A few years ago, I chose a Lenten theme that focused on the “death of the church as we’ve known it.” For all of the Sundays of Lent, I walked the congregation through the various stages of grief. I talked about the many losses we had experienced, and wove them through denial, anger, etc. through to acceptance. On Easter of that year, I tried to highlight the joy of new life, not just for us as individual Christians, but for us as a church.

For most of the season, parishioners politely listened and tried to absorb some of the messages. One of the more effective messages I was so sure of, was the Sunday when I paraded out an old rotary phone, a typewriter, a record turntable and asked a provocative question that went something like: “We don’t use these old things anymore. Why do we insist on having worship, and much of the rest of church life, look and feel almost exactly how it did fifty years ago?”

There was an awkward pause. Someone finally spoke up and admitted to still using a rotary phone. And someone else said that they still use a typewriter and still another person looked completely perplexed and seemed to try to ask, “How does anyone listen to music if they don’t have a turntable?”

There are ways in which the church is stuck in the past because at least some of its members are stuck in the past.

At Old South, I struggle sometimes with how we embrace “new” things, while still being welcoming and accepting of those who have not embraced new things. E-mail, for instance. For me, email is not a new thing, yet I have several active members of Old South who do not use email. I make some attempts at keeping them “in the loop,” but it is increasingly difficult.

At the end of that Lenten journey through the stages of grief, one of my older parishioners who has been a member of the church for a very long time, came in to meet with me. She had in her hands the church newsletter piece that I had written introducing the theme; I could see that it was all marked up. She was upset. Why, she asked, did I insist on being so negative? Why, in my right mind, could I ever choose, over such a long period of time, to focus on such a depressing subject?

Yes, death is negative, and difficult. But, as Easter people we must confront the ways of death in order to experience the new life that Easter brings. Jesus didn’t go directly from the triumphal entry into Jerusalem right to the glorious experience of resurrection. Death, and suffering, happened in between.

Many mainliners, especially in places where lots of other aspects of life are undergoing significant change and loss (the population and economics of Central Maine, for example, are very different than they were fifty years ago), have a hard time seeing themselves in the throes of the reality of Good Friday in what’s happening to the church that they love.

But, we are in a Good Friday time, with all of the confusion, pain, heartache and heartbreak, and actual death that comes with it. But, our faith teaches us that new life will come. We have a hard time trusting that message, though, and more than that, we struggle to cling to the old ways—as if we can resist death, as if our beloved friend can stay with us, despite the slowing heartbeat.

In this holy time of year, my prayer is that Old South, and churches like it, will begin to find ways of moving faithfully through the lessons and the reality of the stories we highlight at worship—these challenging, painful, but ultimately wonderfully joyous, stories of Jesus Christ and his early followers. Somewhere in there, though painful as well, is our story, and it pulls us into something very much alive, but unexpected, and new.

Happy Easter.

Posted in Holy-Days | Leave a comment

Embracing Our Identity and Status

Posted on March 23, 2013 by smaxreisert

Last year, my husband, son and I attended the bar mitzvah of one of my son’s closest friends, Gabe. Gabe had clearly worked hard to reach this point in his life and to accept the new responsibilities that were conferred upon him during the service.

In her remarks that were made directly to Gabe, the rabbi acknowledged, unabashedly, the minority status of Jews in Central Maine. She counseled Gabe that he may find himself the only Jewish student in his school. And, with that minority status came responsibilities and opportunities. The rabbi encouraged Gabe to serve as a good role model and to be prepared to speak up, to speak for justice, for instance, and to be prepared to share something from time to time about what it means to be Jewish with people who may have absolutely no concept of Jewish belief or practice.

I found the rabbi’s words and counsel to be wonderfully refreshing.

I wish we in the mainline church, also in Central Maine, could adopt a similar posture. Instead of wringing our hands almost constantly about the low numbers of people in our pews and trying to come up with new ways of luring people in, I would like to see us at least try to accept and embrace our minority status and to explore how we can better outline and speak about our identity as a minority group in the community.

This is not to say that we shouldn’t be extravagantly welcoming of new people, and to continue to find new ways of expressing our hospitality, but I am concerned that we pin far too much of our identity on how well we do in luring new people into the fold. And, it’s not just the congregation that does this; I know I’m guilty as well.

To embrace our minority status, as more progressive Christians, would offer an opportunity to do more work in outlining what is truly meaningful for us, and to articulate our identity in a more robust way.

We spend so much time considering the numbers that I feel that a big part of our identity is found in our numbers, especially the numbers of our past. Yet, in our former days we must acknowledge that our full sanctuary had more to do with the culture as a whole pushing people into churches and that there wasn’t much else to do on a Sunday morning, and less to do with a healthy and strong articulation of what it meant for us to be Christian.

To explore and embrace our minority status is an opportunity to discover anew what it means to be Christian. In these days when the dominant definition of “Christian” is not what we practice at Old South, it is even more important that we—at Old South and churches that are like Old South— figure out what we mean and then to learn how to express what it means for us to be Christian.

I’ve begun to notice some movement in this direction when it comes to Old South’s Open and Affirming statement. The statement was passed, unanimously, in June of 2008. But since it passed, the church has struggled a bit with how to live the statement. We say we are “Open and Affirming,” but we have a hard time acknowledging that most people in the community have no idea what that phrase means. So, the question is for us, how to we express our Open and Affirming status?

At recent church meetings at Old South, this topic was taken up with meaningful enthusiasm. People shared ideas and thoughts about how we can live out our statement in a more obvious way. This was a good sign. It helps not just with this aspect of who we are, but it begins that community discussion of what it means for us to live as Christians in this time and place, rather than simply looking at who we are through the lens of the past.

My “hope in the wilderness” moment for this week is to be thankful for these small signs of movement, of exploration of our identity, of noticing that some of those sermon messages of the past five years are finally taking root in fertile soil.

There is responsibility and opportunity in exploring who we are in this time and place, and to be connected in new ways to the movement of the Spirit—and to do that as a community. To embrace and explore our minority status is not to be fatalistic about our future, but to experience the hope that our faith always brings—even when there’s just a very small group huddled up near the cross. There’s always hope. We are always an Easter people.

Posted in Maine Cautionary Tales | Leave a comment

Church, Spirituality,and the Convenience Factor

Posted on March 16, 2013 by smaxreisert

A few weeks ago, I encountered a conversation between two women at the gym.  It was Ash Wednesday and both women were talking about how to get to church that day.  They didn’t seem to want to go, but it was clear that they recognized that they needed to go, that they were required to go.  How were they going to fit it in during a normal, busy day in the life of their families?  And, even more than that, could they find a way to get to church just late enough that they could get those ashes rubbed on their foreheads, but then not have to be seen in public for the rest of the day?  And, how about their children?  How could they keep them from being seen in public with that smudged stain on their foreheads?

It was an interesting conversation to overhear.  And, it’s similar to other conversations or comments that I hear, one way or another, from other people.  I have a few families who have found their way to Old South over the last few years, but eventually they drop away.  Life is just too busy.  Church doesn’t fit anymore.  And, more than that, the practice of religion has become the expression of a requirement, instead of an experience of spiritual refreshment.

I’ve noticed in my work in the church that people in the church generally explain away the ever-shrinking presence of people—especially people under the age of fifty—in church by observing that families have a lot more choices for activites on Sunday mornings than they once did.  Sports practices, brunch, even grocery shopping are all available on Sunday mornings.  Families do those things, instead of church.

What’s missing in this observation is that younger and middle-aged adults make time for things that are important to them, amid the myriad choices available to them.  It’s not that the government requires that people bring their children to sports practices on Sunday mornings.  Families make that choice.

The hard thing for those still in church to admit is that families are choosing not to go to church on Sunday mornings.

But, even as families make choices that either do not include church, or choose church only when required by the faith, I have observed in my conversations with people in the community—at the gym, at the grocery store, etc.—is that people do yearn for spiritual refreshment and spiritual connection.  They just don’t know where to turn or how to fit it into their lives in a way they feels manageable.

I wonder sometimes if it’s time to set up a little spiritual drive-through window—a little something that will offer a little more convenience for those whose lives have become just too busy for worship on Sunday, or Saturday.

One of the biggest challenges for churches, especially mainline churches like mine, is to explore ways that we might offer spiritual refreshment that is both meaningful—and worthy of someone’s time—and manageable.  And to do this without judgment.

This is hard, though, and we should admit to that too.  For churches like mine, a congregational church that invites and expects the participation of the congregation, that values highly the central place of the ministry of the laity, we need to be open to—gasp—new ways of doing things and new ways of being church.

Our job is not simply to preserve how we’ve always done things, as if the church is like a museum, but to share the good news and to open our own selves—individually and collectively—to the transformative power of that good news.

We should worry less about the survival of our church buildings, and engage more in the health and vitality of the gospel in our midst, and to live, truly, as people who have experienced the joy and love of God.

Posted in My Life as Pastor | Leave a comment

Thoughts on a Birthday

Posted on March 8, 2013 by smaxreisert

I recently observed a birthday and I’m trying to confront that I am now officially in my late forties—or, as my husband would insist, in my very late forties.

In terms of my age and my relationship with ministry, I have two thoughts that have been swimming around in my head in a big way.

The first is, that despite what seems like my clearly advancing age, I remain one of the youngest members of the congregation I serve.  I wonder sometimes if this could be a marketing point for my church, and others like mine.  It could go something like this:  “Are you under the age of sixty and want to feel young?  Come to church!”  “Want to feel young again?  Come hang out with some old people at church!”

You know, something like that.

The longer I serve the church, the more I notice that I am among the youngest members.  It’s like I am a member of the last wave of people to be any part of church; there’s no one following.  And now that I am getting older, it’s a lot more noticeable that there just are not any younger people coming to church—at least not many of them.

While being younger can be a positive experience, it also causes me a great deal of worry and concern.  If I’m really among the youngest—and I am a part of a small group—what really is going to happen to the church over not just the long-term, but what about the short-term?

And, the other thought that’s swimming in my head, and swims around often these days, is a related point.  I am the youngest ordained minister serving a UCC church in my association—and that’s been true for almost five years now.  And, I am the youngest by more than a decade.

It’s lonely being me.  I don’t say that to elicit sympathy—well, maybe a little—but to suggest that it may signal something much deeper and problematic.

It’s nice to feel young, certainly, but it’s also very isolating.  I’m in a very different stage of life than my colleagues.  I still have children under 18 at home, for instance.  Most, if not all, of my colleagues are grandparents.  But, in terms of years in ministry, I’m among the “oldest.”  Many of my colleagues have been ordained in the last ten years or so, while I’ve been ordained almost twenty years.

I’ve been noticing an increasing group of people who look to ordained ministry as a good “retirement” kind of thing to do.  I don’t want to suggest that these ministries are not valuable, but I do wonder about the health and well-being of a church with no, or not many, ordained pastors under the age of fifty.

Diversity of age is not only a good thing, it may be a very important thing.  So, I’m wondering about age and the church, and trying to find some hope in a not so hopeful looking future.  Might I find some people like me who want to feel younger and may want to get that feeling by coming to church or will I remain among the youngest members of my church even when I’m sixty-four, or more?

Posted in Misc | Tagged , | Leave a comment

The Pope and Memories of the Vatican

Posted on March 2, 2013 by smaxreisert

For the purposes of this blog, I was thinking that I should just ignore the resignation of the Pope. The Pope isn’t an authority figure for me, although he is for some in my family, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan. So, I thought I should just ignore the whole business with Pope Benedict’s resignation and the clamor surrounding who will be next.

But, it’s just so hard to escape. It’s all over the television and the radio.

For me, all of the broadcasts from Rome, bring up my own memories of a visit to Rome, and the Vatican, in the fall of 2008. Although most my memories of Rome are good ones, my memories of my visit to the Vatican are not as positive. I especially remember when my family and I visited St. Peter’s. We had first climbed to the top of St. Peter’s and had then climbed all the way down, to be deposited into the enormous sanctuary—along with masses of other people.

And, though we were in one of Christianity’s most sacred of places, with countless other Christians, most of whom were in tour groups, my family and I were subjected to some of the worst pushing and shoving of our whole two and a half month trip through Europe. Pilgrims from all over the world were in the same place, and they needed to stay in their group. They needed to keep within eyeshot of whatever umbrella or other waving object that their group leader was carrying—and they needed to follow that object no matter the cost. Even if it meant trampling children.

Occasionally, we would spot a pilgrim overcome with emotion, stuffed into some corner to escape the constantly moving river of people. It seemed clear enough that some people had waited a very long time to visit St. Peter’s, had perhaps saved their pennies to afford such a trip, and the experience of being in that sanctuary was emotionally overpowering. They wept in corners or in other out of the way places (which were hard to find), to keep from being overrun by the crowds of tourists, many of whom shared their faith, but acted like the most obnoxious, self-possessed, tourists.

We had with us a kid-oriented tour book, to help us, and our kids (who were 12 and 9 at the time) understand what we were seeing in the magnificently enormous sanctuary. But, it was close to impossible to read any part of that book as we made our way through the sanctuary. We quickly gave up and just kept moving at the pace of the masses.

I must admit that there was a moment in this experience (several moments, actually) that I was thankful to be a Protestant, to not have an emotional attachment to the basilica, with its bodies of former popes and relics of saints, and to be thankful that Martin Luther protested the selling of indulgences to finance it. It’s not that Protestants are without their own issues, but the display of obnoxious tourists and pilgrims at the Vatican was more than disappointing, even more so because in the midst of all that pushing and shoving, I don’t ever remember hearing and “excuse me” or “mi scusi” or “permesso.” Somehow in their quest to stay as close to possible to their tour guide, while also seeing as much as possible, those tourists ended up denying the existence of those around them—even in the place that supposedly stood in glorious recognition of the love of God.

I’ll take my little sanctuary, with my little struggling congregation, any day—where there is no pushing and shoving and where people are not ignored and where those wonderful, holy moments are allowed to happen not just in the corners, but right in the middle of everything, and where the nearness of God seems closer, unhindered by the sheer enormity of a structure that seems to endeavor to make human beings appear and feel very small and insignificant.

Posted in Other Denominations/Christians | Leave a comment

How Is The Church Like a Man With a Singing Frog?

Posted on February 21, 2013 by smaxreisert

Remember Michigan J. Frog? He was the animated singing frog from a Looney Tunes cartoon. In the cartoon, Michigan J. Frog is discovered by a hapless man during the destruction of a building. In the cornerstone of the almost destroyed building, the man finds a metal box and in that box is, Michigan J. Frog, who jumps out of the box with his top hat and cane, singing “Hello my baby, hello my darlin’,” and dancing vaudeville style.

The discoverer believes that he has found a jackpot. This frog is going to make him rich.

The man’s head is so full of dollar signs that he fails to notice that the frog won’t sing for anyone but him. Despite early signs of failure, the man boldly rents out a hall to show off Michigan J. Frog’s amazing talent. The man puts out a sign, “Singing Frog! Appearing Tonight! The wonder of the world. He sings! He dances! Opening tonight.”

But no one is interested.

So the man tries a new sign: “Free Admission.” Still, no one.

There’s a strange sort of kinship between the man with the singing frog and churches like the one that I serve. We put out our signs of welcome, and await the trampling crowds, yet they never come. We certainly have something much better than a singing frog, but there’s a strange kind of disconnect between the love of God we are touting and the lack of interest from those who walk on by, uninterested in what we have to offer. How do we get their attention?

A couple of years ago, I attended a lecture given by Robert Putnam, who was speaking at Colby College about his book, American Grace, which focuses on religion in America.

One of the interesting things that he found in his research was that, while people in the U.S. tend to be involved in churches that are very clear that their way is the only true way, and pastors preach that those who follow alternate paths are not bound for heaven, the average person in the pew is not likely to subscribe to these hard-line views. The people in the pew possess a much more broader perspective on God’s love.

After the lecture, I asked Professor Putnam why he thought that people continued to attend churches that preached such a narrow view with which they were uncomfortable, instead of churches (like mine) that take a less harsh view of God’s love? His answer was, basically, that we have a problem with marketing.

I’ve been wondering about that a lot. For many in the mainline, the whole concept of marketing sends a shiver down our spine. How do we “market” what we do? How do we “sell” the extravagant welcome of God?

These are uncomfortable and difficult questions.

According to Professor Putnam, those people who attend those harder-line churches, especially the young, may begin to look elsewhere. And, that presents an opportunity for the old mainline.

But, we’ll need more than gimmicks, it seems to me, and we’ll need to get our message out in new and different ways. The question is: are we up for this challenge?

Posted in Popular Culture, Movies, TV | 1 Comment

Reclaiming Old Language

Posted on February 16, 2013 by smaxreisert

During a recent clergy meeting, I asked a question about how other clergy handle questions from parishioners that convey either a lack of understanding of a sermon, or even worse than that, when a parishioner takes the complete opposite of the intended message. In the ensuing conversation, one of my colleagues told me that I was “too controlling” in my desire to preach and teach my congregation.
I’ll admit that there’s some truth to that, but I also found in her comment, and in the nods of agreement from others around the table, another truth that seems to me to be even more important, a truth that gets at some of the difficulties that we in the declining mainline Protestant churches are having. In our efforts at extravagant welcome and in our overt tolerance for a diversity of opinions, perspectives and beliefs, it seems to me that we have missed, and are missing, a critical piece of what we should be doing: reshaping the language of Christianity.
As preachers and teachers of the Gospel, I believe that it is our calling—in the more progressive and liberal wings of Protestantism—to be more determined and conscientious in reshaping and reclaiming Christian language, beliefs and theology.
In a recent conversation with an Old South parishioner who’s been at Old South just a few years longer than I’ve been and who came to Old South from a much more conservative background, I found this person struggling to ask a question that had clearly been on her mind for years. Had she somehow managed to miss the Sundays when I preached the “salvation message” and offered something akin to an altar call?
I’ve been pastor and teacher of Old South for seven years. I was both surprised, and not so surprised, by this question. I couldn’t believe that it had taken so long for her to ask it, but at the same time, I wanted to ask her if she had been listening to my sermons over the years. I wondered not only if I had ever led her to believe that I subscribed to a theology of the “salvation message,” but how had she missed all of my messages that described a theology quite different from one that required a personal, saving relationship with a personal Savior?
Sunday after Sunday, sermon after sermon, how had she missed that I am a different kind of Christian than the kind that she grew up with?
We in the more progressive, liberal side of mainline Protestantism have been quite good at changing and reshaping Christian practices. We’ve opened ourselves to the leadership of women, the full participation of homosexuals and transgendered folk, and a welcome of the divorced, etc. But, we haven’t been very good at reclaiming the language and reshaping beliefs and theology of Christianity.
I don’t claim my own leadership and welcome homosexuals just because I’ve become soft in my standards. I believe that I am well-grounded in the Bible and in tune with the movement of the Holy Spirit.
As a pastor and teacher, I find that I need to be more open about what I am doing in trying to re-train my parishioners, especially those who have a more conservative or a very different background. While I want people to feel welcome, and welcome to wrestle with big, and little, questions of faith and belief, I also want to help them lay claim to a new awareness, appreciation and understanding, that is solidly grounded in scripture and theology.
Clergy must be more willing to guide and shape a new way, with new definitions of old language, and to bring new life to old ways of doing and believing. And, then perhaps our parishioners will find the grace and confidence to share that message, to share that good news, and to find a new and wonderful breath of life in the old mainline.

Posted in My Life as Pastor | Leave a comment

(Almost) Everything I Need to Know About the Body of Christ I Learned at a YMCA Swim Meet, Part 2

Posted on February 9, 2013 by smaxreisert

Lessons 3 and 4

Lesson 3: Focus on individual achievement in an encouraging group format.

The Y does a great at helping kids focus on personal achievement. Those swimmers may very well have not a clue about who won or who came in second, but they know if they’ve beat their own previous best time. And, it’s amazing to see how those kids know and respond to their teammates who have expressed a desire to do better in an event that they’ve been working on, or in a new event that they are trying. You can see groups of friends at the other end of the pool cheering on their teammates.

In a meet this season, in an event that is only rarely offered because it is so long—the 1650—my daughter was in the pool, trying to beat the time she got in the one time the event was offered last season. She was in the pool with a couple of older, very strong and fast boys, and two other girls, one from her own team who’s usually faster than she is and another fast girl from a different team. My daughter ended up being the last to finish, but you wouldn’t have guessed from the look on her face when she looked up at the board. She had beaten her previous time by a minute. She was thrilled and so were her friends for her.

That’s part of what we do as the body of Christ—encourage and support each other in the development of our individual gifts and talents, and in our exploration of new gifts and talents.  It’s important that we be an encouraging presence as we gather.

Lesson 4: Everyone in the pool.

There’s a young, disabled woman who swims for another Y not too far away. She’s been swimming for their swim team for years. She’s about 19 now, and because she’s over the age of 13, there are not a lot of shorter events in which she may compete. At a recent meet, she swam in the 100 yard freestyle This is an event that takes most swimmers from just under a minute to about a minute and a half to complete. It takes this particular young woman just under three minutes and that means that she usually swims the second half of the event by herself; the other swimmers have already finished.

In a recent meet, as she made the turn to swim the final leg of the event, the last 25 yards, people started to applaud, until just about everyone in that place was applauding, for the entire time it took her to get from one end of the pool to the other. The noise was thunderous, and amazing. She may have come in last and considerably slower than the rest, but everyone recognized her effort and her place. She may not win any awards, but everyone—almost instinctively—recognized that she belonged in the pool, that’s it’s important to participate.

Those parts that seem weaker, are indispensible in the body of Christ. It’s not just about celebrating the “best” or the “fastest,” or who demonstrates particular strengths in the offering of their gifts and talents. The body of Christ is also about participating, about being a part of the body, and reflecting that God values the “weaker” and less obviously “gifted” parts of the body.

Get in the pool! And, let’s be the body of Christ.

Posted in Sports | 1 Comment

(Almost) Everything I Need to Know About the Body of Christ I Learned at a YMCA Swim Meet

Posted on February 2, 2013 by smaxreisert

Lessons 1 and 2 (3 and 4 next week)

Well, maybe not even “almost” everything, but important lessons about the Body of Christ, as envisioned by Paul in 1 Corinthians 12, can be learned at a YMCA swim meet.  I’ve become more aware of these lessons, Saturday after Saturday, winter after winter, as my kids have been swimming meet after meet, since they were young (they are both teenagers now and still competing on the local Y team).

Lesson #1:  Winning is not the point of the game or, better still, You don’t know who wins and you don’t care.

Heats are set up so that swimmers who have not previously competed in that particular event before swim first, then the heats are arranged from the slowest to the fastest.  But, in those heats, the swimmers are all mixed, boys and girls, various ages.  For some heats, you might have a 17-year-old boy swimming against a 15- year-old girl and a 12-year-old boy, along with others.  You know who won the heat, but you don’t know—sometimes for days—who actually won or placed in each event.  They shake everything out after the meet is over.  My kids will get ribbons days or even weeks after the meet.  I’m still amazed, as they are as well sometimes, to find that one of them had come in first or second or third in an event—in their age group and gender.  But, at the meet itself, unless you are paying very close attention to everyone’s time, you don’t know.  You don’t really know who’s the fastest until later and not only that, it really doesn’t matter.

For the body of Christ, it’s important to remember that it doesn’t matter who’s the “best” at something—after all, we shouldn’t even assume that we know who is the “best,” because God doesn’t look at the world in the same way we do.

Lesson#2:  It’s important to develop your strengths, but it’s also important to explore talents that are yet untapped.

Swimmers usually find, over the course of their swimming “careers” on the YMCA team, events in which they feel comfort and in which they do well—and to continue to work on improvement in those events.  But, swimmers are also encouraged by their coaches to explore new events.  During a recent meet, I noticed this dynamic in an especially interesting way.

There was one event that involved a few of the local team’s—the Dolphins—faster swimmers, including my daughter Margaret, swimming in an early heat of the 200 backstroke.  They were swimming in one of the first heats because none of them had ever competed in the event before.  One of the boys – a very fast swimmer—was  clearly out of sorts.  He doesn’t usually swim in an early heat.  He usually swims in the final heat.  He’s the local high school’s fastest boy swimmer.  And, he didn’t like where he was.

We may become very comfortable in where we think we belong in the body of Christ, we may know that like being a foot or a upper arm or a knee, but it’s also good to get a sense of what one of the other parts does, even if it feels a little disconcerting and puts us a little out of sorts.

It’s important to strengthen our gifts and talents, to continually try to improve those things that we do well, but it’s also important that we not stifle the emergence of new gifts and talents and that we accept God’s grace that allows us to try new things, and to explore untapped potential.

The body of Christ finds strength when God’s people find their place in the body, that in the diversity of our talents we discover and experience a way of life that offers hope and love to all of God’s people—a unity in the midst of diversity that lifts up everyone and expresses itself just as beautifully as a swimmer gliding gracefully through the water.

Lessons 3 and 4 next week.  Stay tuned.

Posted in Sports | Leave a comment