Listening to Elvis or Usher

Vivian and I were preparing lunch. She took a pear, cut it in half, then moaned. “Look, it's black inside. I waited too long. I should have eaten it sooner, when it was fresh. We should buy food daily and eat it when it is fresh. I like my food fresh. I don't like old food. I don't like anything old.”

I thought about that for a moment, then responded, “You don't like anything old? Well that certainly does not bode well for me.”

Recently we traveled to Mt. Carmel, a retreat center near Alexandria, Minnesota, for a reunion of classmates from Luther Seminary. We graduated in 1969, so 45 years have passed.

Someone did the math. About 20 percent of our class is no longer with us on this earth. One couple, with plans to attend, had to stay home; the wife was diagnosed with cancer. Some of my old friends wear hearing aids, one has Parkinson's disease, a spouse told of her hip surgery, and most confess to various aches and problems with memory.

Besides the plain fact that we are all pretty old and get reminded of our mortality on a fairly regular basis, we also deal with retirement in different ways. Some got used to the idea in a couple of minutes. Others are having a more difficult time.

I don't know this for sure, but my best guess is that for some there is the real sense that they no longer have anything to contribute, they no longer have value. Maybe some of you reading these words understand that.

There is a prayer in the Old Testament entitled Psalm 71. It is the prayer of an older person, asking that God not forget. “Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength is spent.” Then these words: “So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me.”

What I say now has been said by others with greater knowledge and insight, but hear it again. If you can identify with me and my seminary classmates, if you are of the same vintage, know that you do have value, that you do have much to contribute. We have what the young do not have yet. We have lived. We have experience. Oh, we may have trouble with technology, but we know something about humanity, about sadness and joy, loss and death. We have some understanding about what counts finally, what is important in life and what can be tossed aside.

May I say we have gained a bit of wisdom, which will not count for much when it comes to how to work the remote, but is a wonderful contribution when it comes to relationships. Is there perfection in us? Certainly not. We too are mighty sinners. But I noticed something at our four day gathering at Mt. Carmel. We laughed. We laughed a lot. We laughed at ourselves and with one another. This too, I heard no unkind word spoken, no complaint about another's presentation or question. We were kind to each other. We no longer had to prove anything or ask for approval. Not a bad lesson to learn early in life.

When we first enter this world, there is no expectation that we do anything in order to receive attention and affection. We are loved and cared for by just being. We are receivers, nothing more. I suggest that some of us will leave this world in the same way. Our bodies and our minds worn out, so we have nothing left to give. But we still are, and by just being we still have value.

You came into this world a child of God, created in the very image of God. That image does not fade with the passing of years. There may be lines on your face reflecting years of hard work and hard learning, but you are still God's little one, precious and loved.

If you, dear reader, are not yet at this place in life, then may these words encourage you to take note of those in your family or neighborhood who are, who would rather listen to Glenn Miller or Elvis (who, by the way, were he still living, would be celebrating his 80^th birthday next January) than Taylor Swift (a mere 25 in December) or Usher. Take note of these older folk and allow them to bring to the table of life what they have to offer: experience, wisdom, laughter, and some spare time.

You may not want to ask us old people to fix your computer or program your smart phone, but we could help you with some insights into how to raise kids, get along with your brother-in-law, live on a tight budget, or not take oneself too seriously.

For we will tell you that life really is short. So pay attention to what counts. Pay attention to things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

You don't need an “app” for any of the above. They are bestowed upon us from above, from the God who created all things to be good. They are gifts, not to be stored away for a later day, but best opened now and used on a daily basis.

Recently, while visiting our son in Silver Spring, we took the metro to the Washington Mall. On the way home I got separated from Vivian and our daughter, so I was riding the train alone. I asked a woman sitting near about the station where I would exit the train. She told me which stop my station would follow. Then a man sitting next to her said, “I will tell you when we get to the station you need.” He did. I knew I would never see this good gentleman again, who had helped me on this brief journey, so as I got up to leave, I touched his shoulder and said, “Have a good life.”

It is what I say to you today, wherever you are on this journey. Have a good life.

Gary

Then the little children were being brought to him

in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray.

The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought

them; but Jesus said, “Let the little children come

to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as

these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.”

Matthew 19:13-15

RIGHT OUTSIDE MY DOOR

I am sitting in my favorite chair

reading the afternoon paper

when I hear the sound of the

kingdom of heaven.

I go to the window

and there,

right there,

on the sidewalk

in front of my house,

the kingdom of heaven,

riding their bikes,

running,

giggling,

telling secrets,

having a great time,

right outside my door.

Gary

HOME AGAIN

I wait each day,

while away from home,

for evening to come,

when all our work is done.

Then I walk with purpose

to the one phone

in the building,

hoping no one has walked

faster than I.

I punch eleven numbers.

She answers,

700 miles away.

For the next 10 minutes

I am home again.

Gary

I SHOULD THANK THEM

She's the gal who greets me

at the deli counter.

She's the mother who cuts my hair,

while I look at her sons' pictures taped to the mirror.

He's the guy at the post office who sells the stamps,

weighs the packages, thanks me for coming.

She's the woman at the library

who checks out the books.

She's the lady who runs my credit card

after I fill the car with gas.

We have no connection,

except this brief time.

But I look forward to seeing them,

sharing brief conversation.

We talk about the weather

and about the work.

I ask about the kids

and about the cancer.

Since we are almost strangers,

we are safe with one another.

We have other lives in other places:

Spouses, children, loss, joy, struggle, pleasure.

But here, now, there is only welcome and kindness.

Here we let the rest go for this brief fine moment.

I should thank them.

Gary

The most important person in the room

If you find
yourself
in a crowded
room
with Jesus, 
the most
important person
in that room is
the one
with the 
greatest 
need.


Gary

MARRIED LONG

It is not the same passion,

but it is passion non the less.

It is the passion of being

with, of shared secrets,

long periods of

comfortable silence.

The passion of

knowing another's

faults and still

being friends.

The passion of

being safe

with this one

always, always.

No fear, except

that it will end.

One will

leave and the other

will be alone.

One flesh

torn apart.

Gary

The right to go on living an ordinary life

The largest ghetto uprising of World War II took place on April 19, 1943.

Hitler’s army had invaded Poland in the fall of 1939 and, after three weeks of resistance, Warsaw surrendered. There were about 300,000 Jews in Warsaw to begin with, but thousands more Jewish refugees soon came in from smaller towns. In October of 1940, the Nazis announced the establishment of the Warsaw Ghetto.

A wall was built around a section of the city, twenty blocks by six blocks. All Jews in the city were given a month to move into the ghetto, while all non-Jews were ordered to leave. Conditions were horrible. The elderly and the children died first.

Eventually, small resistance groups began to pop up in the ghetto. In the summer of 1942, the Nazis began deporting Jews from the ghetto to the concentration camp in Treblinka. From July to September, more that 300,000 Jews were deported, leaving about 50,000 people in the ghetto. When news leaked back to the ghetto of the mass murders, the resistance groups became better organized, making grenades, bombs, and mines, and creating a chain of tunnels and bunkers for the people to hide in.

In January of 1943, ghetto fighters opened fire on German troops as they tried to round up more people for deportation. The Nazis were forced to retreat. Then on April 19, 1943, the first day of Passover, hundreds of German soldiers entered the ghetto in rows of tanks, planning to destroy the ghetto in three days. The resistance held on for almost a month, but the revolt ended on May 16 and the remaining Jews were either shot or sent off to concentration camps.

Irena Klepfisz (1941- ), author and teacher, was two years old during the Warsaw Ghetto uprising. Her father was killed on the second day. On the forty-fifth anniversary of the uprising, Irena Klepfisz said, “What we grieve for is not the loss of a grand vision, but rather the loss of common things, . . . the right to go on living . . . an ordinary life.”

To live an ordinary life is all that most people ask. There are the tyrants and the bullies, the narcissists and the greedy who must be denied, but most of God’s children ask only the right to go on living with a sense of purpose and self-worth. Jesus called it the Kingdom of God. To have some understanding of how it works and how it feels, hold a baby in your arms.

Gary