"Not a Day Goes By" A sermon for Plymouth Congregational Church, Wichita, KS May 29, 2016

NOT A DAY GOES BY: THE CURSE OF MEMORY

A Sermon for Plymouth Congregation Church, Wichita, Kansas

Sunday, May 29, 2016

By Pastor Paul Ellis Jackson

Traditional Word

Mark 14:66-72

While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she stared at him and said, “You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.” But he denied it, saying, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about.” And he went out into the forecourt. Then the cock crowed. And the servant-girl, on seeing him, began again to say to the bystanders, “This man is one of them.”  But again he denied it. Then after a little while the bystanders again said to Peter, “Certainly you are one of them; for you are a Galilean.” But he began to curse, and he swore an oath, “I do not know this man you are talking about.”  At that moment the cock crowed for the second time. Then Peter remembered that Jesus had said to him, “Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.

Contemporary Word

“Not a day goes by, not a single day; but you're somewhere a part of my life…where’s the day I’ll have started forgetting?” Stephen Sondheim

            Humans are cursed with memory aren’t we? I’ve heard it said that it’s a blessing to have a bad memory: You don’t remember all of those slights against you and then you don’t have any grudges against those who slighted you. But, of course, the downside to this is you don’t get to remember the good stuff either. I suppose a perfect memory would be one that filters out the bad stuff and only leaves the good. I’ve been accused of having this kind of memory. But I can also be frozen in place sometimes when some odd memory surfaces in my brain and I stand there thinking: “Did I really do that?” or “How on earth did that happen?” or “What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back and handle that in a different way”.

            What it must have been like for Peter, then. Imagine how much his heart must’ve ached after he realized what he had done. Here he was, denying the man he’d spent the last few years following, working with, trusting, and sharing meals with. Peter and his brother Andrew had been recruited by Jesus just a few years earlier with Jesus saying to them: “come and be fishers of men”. And then in Matthew 16 we get the story of Jesus asking his followers ‘who do you say that I am” and Peter answers: “You are the messiah. Son of the living God”. So, the man who reassures Jesus and tells him that He is the Messiah—the Son of the Living God—doesn’t sound like someone who is undecided about Jesus’ credentials, right? And for this man to then go on and betray Jesus at a critical point in Jesus’ last week…well, that leaves me scratching my head and wondering what one earth Peter must have felt after this betrayal. The regret that he surely felt at his part in the arrest of Jesus. The scripture tells us he “broke down and wept.” He realized what he had done. He had regret.

            But when we remember Peter, is the first thing that comes to mind his betrayal of Jesus? No! We recall that he was a fisherman--that he was one of the twelve apostle--and that Jesus built his church upon him. Peter means rock so Jesus made him the rock, the foundation of his church—the very man who betrayed him. Jesus forgave Peter and put him in charge of continuing his memory-- his legacy. A legacy that lasts, obviously, to today. I mean, here we are—remembering Jesus.

I’m so grateful that I went through all of my youthful follies before the advent of Social Media. It’s bad enough when Facebook pops up some memory from three years ago that I’d rather forget. Imagine having your entire life stored on hard drives and servers and thrown back in your face just when you sooner forget. I’m worried for some of our young people who might end up with some serious regrets. Behaviors, antics and peccadilloes that are better off with only a handful of people knowing about them are now broadcast to thousands AND stored in vast server farms that will never forget. This makes a nice corollary to the story of Peter’s betrayal. Think about it—his betrayal of Jesus was so important that it’s in the three synoptic gospels pretty much the same way. Peter realizes what he has done, has regret and cries.

The Gospel of John tweaks the story a bit and does not have Peter crying and showing regret. Perhaps that early community of followers of that Christ Movement, the Johannine Community, needed a Peter who didn’t cry—a Peter who had no regrets? It’s almost impossible for us to know why the writer of the Gospel of John chose to leave our the regret part, but it interesting to think about. They wanted to remember a Peter who had no regrets. Why?

Tomorrow we celebrate Memorial Day. I used to be pretty ambivalent about this holiday. It usually just meant a three-day weekend and often this was spent in Dallas with a group of friends from college in one of our annual reunions. But in the past few years, this holiday has become more and more important to me. For the past couple of years, Duane and I have visited the local cemeteries where are family members who have died are buried. This means a trip to Derby, where we both grew up and where a number of our family members now rest. It’s not necessarily a sad time. It’s bittersweet. We spend time searching for graves and making sure we spend a moment lingering over each marker. There’s a lovely, quiet solemnity in a graveyard on Memorial day. Most who are there are busy with their tasks of flower arranging and grave maintenance. Brushing dirt off of a neglected marker, or pulling weeds from around a patch of earth. It’s a humbling time—standing in a cemetery—looking at the great mass of humanity that has left the earth and gone on to their glory. It’s humbling because I think in the back of all of our minds is the thought…I, too, am going to die someday. Just like everybody else on this planet. Someday, I will no longer be physically present. Now we all have ideas of what awaits us after our deaths and the scriptures provide some insights as well. For me, I think that since I came from God that upon my death I will return to God. In what form that takes, I don’t know. Nor does it really matter. What really matters is what I do with the time remaining. In whatever time we have—working to build the Beloved Community of Right Relationships should be our primary task. And standing in a cemetery contemplating my demise is a surefire way to even more finely focus my attitude on building that Beloved Community.

Stephen Sondheim wrote a beautiful song about remembering: “Not a Day Goes By” and thank you so much Ted for that beautiful rendition. If you listened carefully to the lyrics you heard someone who has experienced some great loss and is unable to forget this person. We don’t know who the person was: a lover, a friend—it could be anyone. And I think we’ve all been in that position—I hope we’ve all been in that position. Someone who entered our lives and became a part of the fabric of those lives—so much so that when they are gone there is a tremendous hole where they used to be. And sometimes we are stuck. We can’t move one from that memory. There’s such great pain in the unfinished story of that person and you that you are lost. You are unable to move on.  But maybe that’s part of your story. It’s up to you to fill in the gaps—to address the empty spaces—and to find a way to propel the story forward without that beloved person. Your story must go on without them. Perhaps the story is just paused and awaits your input as to what happens next.

Part of my work as Associate Minister at University Congregational Church is to assist our Senior Minister, Robin McGonigle, with pastoral care issues. When I took this position in the summer of 2013, I started working with a number of our older congregants on a variety of issues. Duane and I would put up grab bars or hand rails or make other simple adjustments or suggestions to help with mobility issues in a member’s home. Or I’d take them shopping or make sure that someone in the congregation did so. One particular member of our congregation was Becky Tucker. Now I had known Becky since I joined University Congregational’s choir in 1995. She had sung in the choir since almost the beginning—over 30 years. Last year Becky had a serious fall and broke her leg. She ended up in a rehab facility and here was an opportunity for me to be an even better pastoral care giver as Becky had no local family. So whenever Becky needed help, she’d call on me and I’d be right there. Or if I was out of town or unavailable, I’d make sure someone from the church did so. A couple of Wednesdays ago, I picked up Becky for our one of our usual shopping trips and we had our usual silly fun time at Dillons. I mostly followed her around while she rode her scooter through the store gathering her supplies for the week. She was a maniac on that scooter and I often warned the people in the vicinity that their lives were in jeopardy. Becky liked being thought of as a dangerous shopper. That Wednesday evening we had choir rehearsal and Becky was there, as always, ready to sing and have fun with a choir she’d been with over 30 years. Because that Wednesday night was our last Wednesday night choir rehearsal for the season, the choir went out to the Bricktown Restaurant on rock Road for a celebration. Becky went along, sat next to me and I bought her dinner because I knew this was an extravagance for her. As Duane and I were preparing to leave, she leaned over and said she’d like a slice of cheesecake and without a moment’s hesitation I handed her a ten dollar bill and told her to enjoy that cheesecake. And I am so glad I did. The next day, Becky’s sister called me to tell me that Becky had had a massive heart attack and had just died. I knew she had no family in town so I instantly rushed to Wesley and was able to say goodbye to her for all of the people in her life who just could not be at her side.

I will be officiating Becky’s funeral here in a few weeks—her family is scattered about the country, so it took some time to find a day when everyone could come to Wichita. Becky’s death reminded me once again of the fragility of our lives and of the sacredness of the everyday. The beauty of the mundane. Her last hours on earth she spent doing those things that gave her great pleasure—singing and celebrating and eating some delicious cheesecake. And I learned an important lesson: Never forgo the opportunity to buy someone a slice of cheesecake. You never know if it might be their last. And if you do so, you won’t regret that you didn’t. University Congregational Church’s second Senior Minister, the Rev. Dr. Gary Cox, whom we lost way too early in 2006, said something in one of his sermons  that has stuck with me to this very day. He said, whenever I am faced with an important decision. Or when I am sitting on the horns of a dilemma. Anytime I am faced with a situation that I know requires thoughtful reflection on my part. I sit back and I imagine how I want to remember this moment at my time of death. Do I want to look back on it with regret and anxiety because I made a selfish and shortsighted, quick decision? Do I want to look back on it with ambivalence because I put off making the decision and left it for someone else to work out?  Or do I want to look back on the memory with fondness and love, because the decision I made considered others—it took into account the fact that we are not alone in this world and that our decisions, however small, might impact many other people for many years to come. Did my choice help further the building of God’s Beloved Community of Right Relationship? Did I offer love and selflessness? Will I be proud of my choices on my deathbed? Obviously this has stuck with me and I hope you hear Gary’s words this morning and that they might resonate with you in some manner as well. How do you want to recall your life on your deathbed? Do you want to remember a life of regret, fear and worry? A selfish life where you put your needs first? Or do you want to look back on a life of selflessness, of service to others, of love freely given and wrongs quickly forgiven and pride in your accomplishments? The choice is yours and you can start living a selfless life right now. I think part of our commitment to the Jesus Movement includes selflessness. Walking the way of Jesus, faithfully, can help us live a life without regret. I mean, if Jesus can make his betrayer the rock of his legacy, what do you think he can do with you?

            Tomorrow, regardless of if you visit a cemetery or not, take a few moments to remember those you have lost. Smile in warm remembrance of their lives and what they meant to you. Think about the gift that their life was—find the gift in their life—the blessing—the reason that you were so glad to have known them and why you are grateful that, for whatever time you had, they were part of your life and not a day goes by that you are so glad that you knew them. No regrets. Just love. The price of love is loss—and still we pay—we love anyway. Amen.

            Thank you for inviting me here this morning. 

Those Pesky Prophetic Voices!

THE CHRISTIAN LIFE FOR SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2016

We have quite a group of theologians in this congregation. I would go so far to say that most people in this church are theologians. By this I mean, we think about God. Not in some simplistic Santa Claus figure in the sky whom we ask for candy and if we are good boys and girls we get something. Not that there is anything wrong with this theology….ok, there’s lots wrong with that theology and it leads to profound problems and eventually violence, war and questionable presidential candidates. But many people hold this type of theology about God. They just wouldn’t know to call it theology. They’d just assume that everyone believes this same way.

But we know here at University Congregational that few of us believe that way. We actually prefer the questions to the answers. Robin is walking us through the pitfalls and anxiety that living in ambiguity can cause, but I’m here to share with you that the questions matter far more than any concrete answer.

Moses, when he encountered God in the form of a burning bush asked God who he was: The bush said I AM THAT I AM.  Moses didn’t start theologizing and run to the Tanakh and the priests and say, help me define this, guys. What does it means that God just told me I AM THAT I AM. Let’s think about this…

No, Moses instead listened careful to his mission from God (to free to Hebrew slaves) and Moses, in true Prophet fashion said, uh, who I am to go to pharaoh and free our people? I’m not such a good speaker…surely you can send someone else. And God in the form of a burning bush reassured Moses and sent him on his ministry.

After a while, knowing who this God was became less and less important to Moses. Knowing what this God wanted to be done became more and more important to Moses.

I think sometimes our questions are out of order. I think we get too caught up in God’s name or nature or whether or not God loves me, than we do in asking this question: Am I doing to the best of my abilities, those things that I’m pretty sure are pleasing to God? Do I love my neighbor? Do I walk humbly with my God? Do I practice mercy and justice? Do I pray for God’s will and God’s community to be made available for all? Or just for today’s sports team? Or the lottery ticket in my pocket?

Do I work to build God’s beloved community for all, here and now, with the gifts I’ve been given?

Or am I too preoccupied with being offended because someone asked me a tough question that made me think theologically. Or someone said something unfair about me. Or someone ate the last piece of pie. Or some other perceived slight. Oh we love to get bent out of shape over the slightest thing and then drive right by a homeless girl without anything to eat—driving by in our nice shiny Buick.

Are we asking the right questions about God? Are we thinking about God in theologically sound ways? How are you going to think about God during today’s share meal of communion? Let’s stand and sing our communion hymn found in your bulletin: As Grains on Scattered Hillsides

The Four Agreements--Be Impeccable with Your Word

Yesterday, Robin began the first in our sermon series on Don Miguel Ruiz' book The Four Agreements. This little book of Toltec wisdom is fascinating and one that I have long loved. Yesterday's agreement, the first, is Be Impeccable with Your Word. This sermon led me to thinking about how often I use the phrase: To be completely honest. How many times do I say to someone, well, if I am to be completely honest I must say....such and such. Does this mean that in all of my other speech I am being less than honest? Or is this just an idiom that we use when we are trying to emphasis that what I am about to say next is extra-true?  Just some thoughts for this second Monday in January.

The Name of the Book is Opportunity

The Name of the Book is “Opportunity “

Paul Edwin Ellis Jackson

University Congregational Church

January 3, 2016

Traditional Word

Hebrew Bible:

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!

 Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.

Isaiah 43:18-19New International Version (NIV)

New Testament:

 Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!

2 Corinthians 5:17New International Version (NIV)

Contemporary Word

“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.” 
― Edith Lovejoy Pierce

A few Sundays ago Robin preached on the Gospels and how we are all writing the Gospel anew ourselves. Each time we act out of Christian love we are adding sentences and exclamation points to the Good News. Each time we embody one of the teachings of Jesus we are putting a new paragraph in our version of the Gospel. When we recall one of the parables and use it to teach someone in our lives the moral nugget therein, we are indenting the paragraphs and formatting the text of our Gospel. We, each of us, are writing our own Gospel each day that we are alive. Here, in the present moment, is when we write the Gospel best.

But how do we do this when we can’t get to the present? How do we write the Good News when we’re not so sure we’re worthy of Good News? What about those of us who are stuck in the past? The prophet Isaiah tells us that we are to “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

Our ancient prophet to the people of Judea is still speaking wisdom today, isn’t he?  And while he was writing to an ancient people who had been through the worst parts of the Exodus and he was wanting them to forget the misery and humiliation they had been subjected to, don’t his words ring true today? So while our Jewish family from old had been startled by the parting of the Red Sea and their fear of traveling through the desert, they were being reminded of this so they could remember that the New Exodus was even more divine—was even more life-affirming. They were looking at a life of slavery and endless drudgery and had been given new life and a new way to see the past. New lenses through which to look at their story.  They would not have their new lives if they had not left Egypt. They had to go through their Exodus to gain their new lives.

I remember once when I received a new prescription on my eyeglasses after I had gone a number of years without an eye check-up. My eyesight had declined somewhat, but because it happened gradually I was unaware of the change. Until I put on that new prescription. I remember standing outside in awe as I was able to make out the detail in the trees, they were so green and I could now see individual leaves where before I had just seen a green blob. It was stunning. But I would have never experienced that if I had not gotten new lenses with which to see. Viewing our past is similar. If we are looking at old events with unhealthy eyes, then we might not be seeing what really happened.

Here are some signs that perhaps you are viewing things from your past in an unhealthy and possibly destructive manner—perhaps you need a new prescription!

1)      Do you embellish the past? When the truth about a past event just doesn’t live up to your expectations, or if it doesn’t make for a good story, we might find ourselves embellishing things that have happened. A childhood injury becomes much more dire than it really was, or our role in a heroic sporting event was much less. I actually have a trophy from when our team won first place in basketball. That’s the truth. I was on a first place basketball team when I was in Junior High. What I’m omitting is that it was awarded during the year I had a severe bout of walking pneumonia and did not play in a single game. But because my name was on the roster, I got a trophy. You get the picture. I can claim that I was a basketball superstar. I don’t, because that’s not important to me, but you can see how this might be tempting in certain situations.

2)      Do you ignore the past? This may seem like an easy way out, but it’s not very healthy for us. We must acknowledge the bad events in our pasts if we are to face them and move on from them. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself reminded of whatever past event affected you at the worst possible times. This one often takes some professional assistance so if you think you are hiding from something in your past; find a counselor or therapist who can help you face it.

3)      Do you romanticize the past? Humans have an amazing propensity for self-delusion. The statistics on people who return to abusive relationships to only have the abuse continue are staggering. These people are romanticizing the past. They might think: “It wasn’t all that bad, she didn’t manipulate me that much” or “He didn’t mean to hurt me and he promised he’ll never do it again and we have so much fun together when he’s not angry—I should go back—it’s better than being all alone”. Call this what it is—if your relationships bring out the worst in you (and others) don’t let fickle human emotions make what is toxic look like treasure and tempt you into returning.

There are more of these: Denying our pasts, imitating our pasts, inheriting our past, but they all share a common theme: Not dealing with a past event that keeps us from moving forward—from making positive changes in our lives. And while I’m talking mostly about individuals, I think institutions are often subjected to the same thing. Even churches. When a church cannot forgive itself of past mistakes, when it cannot take an honest look at its errors or tragic circumstances, when a church cannot look at its past with clear eyes and simply acknowledge what occurred, then that church has a difficult time moving forward. It remains mired in the past, unable to propel itself into a future of hope and love. And a big part of moving forward is thinking about how we write our story of our past for others. If we are constantly dredging up old hurts and perceived wrongs in front of people who are reading our story for the first time, well how does that reflect the Gospel? How is that Good News?

In roughly year 57 of the Common Era, St. Paul writes to a church in Corinth suffering from just this very malady. The burgeoning church in Corinth was suffering from financial and political woes. It had become mired in its own worries and had forgotten its very reason for being: A proclaimer of the Good News of Jesus Christ. Paul writes to Corinth and says: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” To me, Paul is telling us “the old that has gone” is the old, selfish desires of a self-centered life. The “new that is here” is the inner changes that occur when our thoughts and ambitions are no longer centered on ourselves, but on the bigger world—on the Beloved Community of Right Relationships that Jesus taught about.

That is the Good News. That is the Gospel that each of us is writing, each day that we claim to be Christians. It has nothing to do with doctrine and dogma and everything to do with building the Beloved Community of Right Relationships right here and right now. Each day of our lives are blank pages on which to write our interpretation of the Gospel. Your interpretation of the Gospel is probably different from mine and that’s okay. The more I work with these texts, the more I find that interpretation matters much more than we have ever been led to believe. And the responsibility to be good interpreters lies with each of us.

Edith Lovejoy Pierce, the 20^th Century poet and pacifist wrote these words: “We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.”  As you complete the sacred of task of turning the pages of your calendar or day planner and begin to fill your hours and your days with the responsibilities and tasks and duties of your life, make sure to make a little time for play. Make sure to make a little time for worship and prayer and meditation. Make sure to plan a little time for your family and your friends. Each page you fill in your calendar reflects the life that you live. These three hundred and sixty some pages extending before us in 2016 are pages of opportunity. Myriad opportunities for us to better build the Beloved Community. Is there a mission or outreach that fills you with passion? An idea that inspires you to action? Let’s get together and flesh it out. We should be a community of 300 plus ministries. Each one of you active in our shared ministries and passionate about the ministry that lights your fire—the thing that ignites within you the spark of light and love. Is it working with our homeless community? Robin and I can hook you up with the right resources! Is it helping our communities’ poor families? I can think of a dozen places for you to serve off the top of my head. Do you have a desire to help more with our Hygiene Pantry? We can get you in touch with the people who will put you to work. Do you want help young gay and transgendered people navigate this complex world that often doesn’t seem to give them a break? I got you covered! Reach out to me and Robin in the coming days and we will find you a place to serve.

The days that stretch ahead of us this year offer plenty of opportunities for us to write the Gospel and to maybe get it right. The coming days and weeks and months offer us so many opportunities to better live in Right relationship with one and another. I’m grateful for this church and this congregation and thank God for the opportunities that lie before us in the coming New Year.

Amen

Please stand if you are able and sing the traditional tune, Auld Lang Syne.

My first year in seminary

So..I haven't posted in over a year and I have an EXCELLENT excuse. I started seminary at Phillips Theological Seminary last year and my life has been extremely busy. I'll post more soon, I promise!

Pax,
Paul

My latest sermon--given Sunday, March 16, 2014 at University Congregational Church, Wichita, Kansas

Paul Jackson

University Congregational Church

March 16, 2014

The Last Week: Tuesday

Tuesdays are odd days, aren’t they?  They don’t have the historical dread that Mondays seem to hold for us and there really is none of the joy about them that Fridays have.  Tuesdays don’t even have a fun nickname like the ones we give to Wednesdays and Thursdays: Hump Day and Little Friday.  I don’t have to elaborate on Saturday, because everyone loves Saturday-- and we all know that Sunday is the day we dress up a bit and come to the little white church with the steeple in North East Wichita.

Well, the Tuesday that Jesus experienced in his last week-- His last Tuesday-- was the busiest day of His last week—at least according to Mark’s Gospel.  Mark fills almost three chapters with 115 verses making Tuesday the longest day in Mark’s story of Jesus’ last week.  About two-thirds of the day’s accounting are stories of conflict with the temple and temple authorities and their associates.   The remaining third deals with the coming destruction of the temple and Jerusalem and with the coming of the Son of Man, all of which are in their very near future.

So, I’d like to start at the beginning of that day.  Robin’s in Israel.  I’ll try to have you out of here by 1:45 or so.  Jesus’ last week—Paul’s last sermon.  When Robin and I were discussing this sermon series and the fact that I’d be delivering two of them during her absence, we both agreed that the first temptation of a new seminarian would be to tackle the entire day.  That one should hit on every parable and utterance from this important Tuesday.  And we both agreed that would be a mistake.  This entire sermon is my take on this part of Jon Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg’s book, The Last Week—What the Gospels Really Teach about Jesus’ Final Days in Jerusalem.  Ready?  Here we go!

At 5:05 am on that Tuesday, Jesus’ alarm went off.  He hit the snooze button three times (twice according to Matthew)…

Actually—we have a series of parables and stories that provide insight into Jesus’ conflicts with the temple authorities and the brilliant way in which he handled each situation.  First there’s a situation involving the temple authorities’ questioning Jesus’ authority to even be present in the temple. Jesus handles the Sadducees and Chief Priests and Scribes deftly by challenging their devotion to John the Baptist (who was immensely popular at the time).  Then Jesus tells the parable of the greedy tenants.  It’s a complex parable involving a vineyard and tenants who rob the landlord’s messengers and rent collectors and kill his son. 

After this bit of exhausting teaching, Jesus had his morning tea (well, Luke and John disagree on this—Luke says it was a rich coffee blend, perhaps  from Starbucks, but John is certain it was tea-- me, I like the new scholarship that supports the Coke Zero Theory, but I digress…). 

Anyway, after his morning break he gets right back to work and is accosted by the Pharisees again with another trick question involving the payment of taxes. This is the part where Jesus’ utters his famous “render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s” speech. Good stuff, there.  Right after that, Mark tells us that the Sadducees question Jesus if God is of the living or if God is of the Dead. I’ll let you read that one for yourselves.  It is way above my limited theological understanding.

Then Jesus had lunch.  We don’t know all of the details, but a document was recently uncovered at Nag Hammadi that scholars tell us was an American Express receipt signed by Jesus.  He even put a pithy little quote by the total amount due.  Something to do with the waiter’s pledge.  They’re still working on the translation.

After lunch Jesus answers one of the scribes questions about which commandment is the greatest commandment—Jesus deflects that one brilliantly, doesn’t he?—it’s the traditional word in your bulletin if you want the full account—and then Jesus attacks the scribes about their teaching and practices.

Finally, he spends the rest of the day preaching about the coming destruction of the temple and the “little apocalypse” that is imminent.  The “big apocalypse”, is of course, found in Revelation, but this “little apocalypse” is Jesus’ admonition to us to be wary that no one leads us astray—think false prophets and teachers—he tells us to flee to the mountains—and he says to “keep alert—watch—keep awake”. 

That’s a pretty busy Tuesday.  I’d be lucky to get even that first temple authority question resolved by 5 PM on a good Tuesday.

OK—So I digressed a little bit.  The tea and lunch comments are not biblical.  But I think it’s important to remember that Jesus would have needed a rest during this busy, busy day.  He was, after all, a human being.

Let’s go back to Monday for a minute:  Remember Monday of The Last Week?  Robin told us last Sunday of the two parables that were framed in Mark’s Gospel: The cursing of the fig tree and the over-turning of the money changer’s tables.  And she carefully reminded us that when the church (or religious authority of the day) puts anything above justice, God rejects it.  God rejects it again and again.  Then on Tuesday, we have Jesus’ followers comment, first thing, on the fig tree from Monday.  They basically say, look, a dead fig tree.  You cursed it and it died.  Nice work.

So now on Tuesday we have the religious authorities of the day challenging Jesus on any number of topics—his authority, his pedigree, his theology, and his stand on Roman taxation—lots of challenges.  And at each obstacle, Jesus turns the tables back on the inquisitors.  He reminds them that their beloved John the Baptist baptized him—so he has the right to be present in the temple.  We have him bluntly saying that the greatest commandment is to love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul AND to love your neighbor as you love yourself.

Then we have Jesus starkly and simply addressing perennial church/state issues with his “give unto Caesar” statement.  And all of this verbal repartee is transpiring in and around the temple I Jerusalem.

I think we could call this Tuesday of The Last Week—Temple Tuesday, (there’s our new nickname)—because it all revolves around the importance of the temple in Jewish society and everything event that happened on this day, took place in, or near, the temple in Jerusalem.  The temple would have been filled with pilgrims from all over the region--visiting the big city for the Passover celebration that is already in full swing.  The temple would be teeming with people.

And let’s look at the temple.  The temple played an important role in daily Jewish life.  Religious faith was the central part of Jewish life in first century Palestine. Many of their daily activities were based around fulfilling the commandments that are found in the Torah.

In the time of Jesus, Jewish life and culture centered on the Temple—actually, in this case, the second Temple, which had been rebuilt by Herod the Great after the first Temple, Solomon’s Temple, was destroyed in 587 BCE. Crowds of people thronged in and out of the Temple every day, making ritual animal sacrifices to atone for particular sins, this was another common practice for Jewish people of the time.

So what if you didn’t belong to the club?  What if you were not born Jewish? Where is your justice? How do you atone for your sins? How to gain access to “God”?  There were other religions at the time, but the Jews held hegemony in Jerusalem at this time and would do so up until AD 70 when this second temple was destroyed.

When one approached The Temple in Jerusalem, everyone encountered a giant stop sign, called the temple warning.  It was a big slab of limestone with large, red letters that said this:

“Let No Gentile Enter within the partition and barrier surrounding the temple; whosoever is caught shall be responsible for his subsequent death.”

Gentiles were excluded from the temple and all temple rites and rituals and privileges. The temple warning is pretty clear.  But is this just?   Is the temple a place of justice?  For that matter, is the church a place of justice? Remember, we’re clearly told about Monday of the Last Week that anything the church does that does not include justice is rejected by God.

So who’s excluded from our temple? Who’s excluded from the full participation of life in our church?  In other churches in Town?  In THE church in America? In the world-wide church?  Is it the poor? Is it the illiterate? Is it the boorish?  Is it the disfigured?  Is it folks with tattoos?  Is it folks who love differently than you?  Folks who think differently than you?

Would our hygiene pantry families feel welcome at UCC?  Or would they encounter a big red-lettered slab at our driveway? 

I like to think we’d welcome them with open arms.  I like to think we’d really hear Jesus telling us that the greatest commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves.

What about you?  Are you excluded?  Where can you not go?  Where can you not eat?  Not shop? Not pray? Where would you not feel justice?

Mark, in his Gospel, tells of the imminent return of the Son of Man—that Jesus would return to the early Christians in their lifetime—this was their fervent belief and hope.  And it didn’t happen.  It still hasn’t happened.  At least in a literal sense.  Crossan and Borg argue, and I agree, that the second coming of Jesus will triumph—through us, despite the “tumult and resistance of this world.”  The struggle goes on—and each of us, each day, when we choose to live in right relationship with each other, when we choose to do the right thing… when we act out of confidence and enduring hope--each of us embodies the spirit of Jesus Christ. 

Is the church the Second Coming of Jesus?  Are we living His return on a daily basis?

Who knew that a mere Tuesday could catalyze such change in the world?  Who would’ve ever thought a plain, old, boring Tuesday would hold such revolutionary ideas in it?  The seeds of justice.

Keep alert—watch—keep awake—lest we slip into the delusion that we, and we alone, belong in the temple, in the church, and that there are others out there who do not.  I know of a radical Jewish man who might have a few choice words for you.

Amen

Certainty is Absurd

"Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is absurd." --Voltaire

I adore this quote. It sums up what I feel about folks who are SURE they know God's will or are SURE they know what the Founding Fathers meant when they wrote over 200 years ago or they are SURE that the Bible is inerrant or they are SURE their rights are being trampled upon and also sure that THEY aren't trampling on anyone else's rights.

I prefer to exist in the real world--the world of many doubts.  It's so much more fun (and much less absurd) than being certain.

Of course, I might be wrong about this, I'm not certain.  However, rational people are able to change their minds when confronted with facts and reality.

Pax,

Paul

My sermon from Sunday, October 13, 2013 presented to the congregation at University Congregational Church, Wichita, KS

“Why Church? Music!”

Paul Edwin Jackson

Sunday, October 13, 2013

University Congregational Church

THE SECULAR WORD

Without music, life would be a mistake.
Friedrich Nietzsche

Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything.
Plato

Music in the soul can be heard by the universe.
Lao Tzu

THE SACRED WORD

A Psalm for giving thanks. Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing!

Psalm 100:1-5 ESV

What am I to do? I will pray with my spirit, but I will pray with my mind also; I will sing praise with my spirit, but I will sing with my mind also.
1 Corinthians 14:15 ESV

Good Morning.  I am a lucky man. I say this often, as I consider myself very fortunate.  I am grateful for so many things in my life that it is difficult to enumerate them all.  And every time I write out a gratitude list, one of the things that always finds its way to the top is music.  I am profoundly grateful for music.  I cannot imagine my life without music. It’s a cliché to say “Music is My Life”.  So I’ll say “Music Shares My Life”. And I share my life with music. I’d like to spend a few moments this morning contemplating this strange and wonderful part of our human experience—music.  Music begins when mere words alone cannot convey the message.

Let’s start with some biology—I taught anatomy and physiology at the Wichita Area Technical College for many years, so bear with me as I work us through a few things.  There is a basic biological reason that we love music and that music is able to have such a profound effect on us.  This biological response also explains why music crosses all cultures and has the same effect on all humans.  Dopamine. Dopamine is a powerful chemical that our brains produce in certain circumstances.  There is a definitive link between music, both making it and listening to it, that causes our brains to release this important neurotransmitter.  Dopamine.  Dopamine is the same substance that puts the joy and pleasure into sex, the thrill into certain legal and illegal drugs and the warm feeling and bonding response that a woman and her child experience during breast-feeding.

So we’re listening to music, a favorite selection, some jazz, or Beethoven or Katy Perry, and as we listen there is a slow release of this pleasure chemical, dopamine.  It infuses our brains and it causes an emotional response—good feelings, security, warmth, pleasure.  As the music builds, so does the level of dopamine (this is all science, by the way, not opinion—see me for my notes if you like).  So the dopamine levels build as the anticipation levels in our brains build.  We’re listening to the song, tapping our foot and here comes our favorite part and in that moment, say when the chorus finally gets to the fourth movement in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, The Ode to Joy section, and your brain releases a rush of dopamine in response to the musical climax.  There can be a moment of sheer bliss—sheer joy—sheer gladness at being alive and hearing that song and feeling your body and your mind bright and clear with pulse-pounding glory.

So that’s a little of the science behind our response to music—but science only illuminates the what and the how. There is so much more.  What about the memories triggered by a particular piece of music.  Your brain is once again engaged and certain cues are picking up memories from your past—that song was the first song we danced to as a married couple, that song was in a mix-tape so-and-so gave me years ago—I wonder what he’s up to these days?—or, the comment I hear more and more in this new position here at UCC—I want that song at my funeral.  The “place-holder” that many songs serve as in our lives.

Music serves numerous roles in our lives.  It is background music that can keep us going throughout our day with rhythm and melody and lyric. But what about the cynical use of music as a device to influence your purchasing decisions or how some organizations use the dopamine/brain link to manipulate a specific response to reinforce their message?  The Germans in power during World War II knew this effective and sinister function of music well—they would have long periods of marches and anthems and music designed for public consumption.  About 45 minutes of this can put an average human into a trance-like state with Theta brains waves oscillating at the perfect balance for the input of new information.  It would relax the conscious part of the brain and allow the unconscious part to receive their messages of hate and control without any conscious reasoning.  This is a form of brain-washing and smart entrepreneurs use it to this day to relax your “aware” self into a state more pliable and easier to ‘sell” to:  whether the product is the solution to your lack of “abdominal muscles” (or as I like to call, ab-solutions) or perhaps the product is a belief system that runs counter to everything else your rational mind perceives as true. You may know for a fact that science unequivocally holds evolution as a basic, fundamental piece for the study of biology—it is NOT a theory in standard parlance, but a Scientific Theory, and yet you still believe that God smote the ground and out came us perfectly formed humans.  A good brainwashing can help you live with these irreconcilable differences. Now, it is always dangerous to use the term brainwashing, because there are plenty of people who think I am brainwashed—but I am confident that my brain has never been washed.  It is as unwashed as the masses.  It’s important to remember in this instance that knowledge IS power and the more we are aware of potentially sinister motives, the more we can resist being manipulated in such sly, subtle ways.

This same manipulation can also be used in a beneficial manner: think about how the skillful composers of film music use melody and orchestration to evoke specific responses from their audiences.  You don’t hear a blaring march during the tender death scene.  You hear violins and harps or a solo piano.  

Think about the music we make up here on a weekly basis—40 or so individuals gather and push air from their lungs over their vocal cords to produce sound waves that then travel through this soupy air to land in your ear and trigger a variety of responses from you. You didn’t know there was so much going on here did you?  Making music does not come easy.  For those of us in the choir, who have made a habit of this, it comes easier than it might for one who hasn’t done it routinely, but it’s still difficult.  The challenge of making sure that you are on pitch with your neighboring singers, helping each other get the rhythms right, or the pronunciation of the Latin text correct, or any other of the myriad problems encountered by a large choir engaging with the repertoire of great composers. I should note that Helen’s skill at the piano greatly helps in keeping us together and on track and focused. We take little tiny dots on a page and make them make sense in a larger, choral whole. We do it—and we laugh—we laugh a lot—in fact, it’s a particular testament to Bob Scott’s leadership that we have such a good time in the choir and still manage to produce meaningful music for our worship each week. Bob’s good humor and skill and Helen’s craft are such a refreshing combination and that makes singing in this choir such a joy.
But it’s more than that.  Music is not produced in a vacuum.  Music is community.  Last week Robin taught us to look at that word in a different way. The “wholeness” of community.  The unity of the group.  Belonging to one and another and to the greater world.  It gets us out of ourselves. It helps us be less selfish and much less “me first!” It makes us think about the rest of the world and our place in it. When this assembled community pulls into our lungs this shared air and expels notes and harmony and rhythm, is that not a metaphor for God?  The very words we use for respiration and inspiration have, at their core, the word spirit—spiritus.  Are we not engaging the “spirit” at its source when we breathe the same air and sing the same song and in that one moment become unified in purpose and unified in community?

The choir is just one example of many of a specific community within our larger church community.  I challenge each of you to find your place here at UCC.  Is it in the choir? See Bob and we’ll find a place for you? Do you want an opportunity for more study and meditation? Let Robin or me know and we’ll help you make it happen.  Do you have an idea for an outreach? Come see me and we’ll work with the Outreach board and help you put your mission into motion. Church happens because of community.  And we need each of you in our community.

For me, singing in this choir is one of the highlights of my life.  It is one of the times I feel closest to God. I feel like God is happiest with me when I am singing.

 It also, in me, reinforces that there IS a God. And that God loves music.  And that God really loves us when we make music.

AMEN

My first sermon....ever

Stories Matter

Paul Jackson, Sunday, August 18, 2013

“...What happens is of little significance compared with the stories we tell ourselves about what happens. Events matter little, only stories of events affect us.” 
― Rabih Alameddine, The Hakawati

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

--Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

Story telling is as old as humanity and older than written words. It predates history itself and intuitively we know it be an incredibly useful tool. I don’t remember all the details of a lecture, but if the professor used a story to convey her idea, you can bet I’d repeat the story and find the nugget of her teaching therein.  There’s a reason Jesus of Nazareth used the story form known as parable to teach his followers—they are pithy, easy to remember and impart information with an emotional component that engages us in deeper understanding—most of us can tell the story of The Good Samaritan or The Prodigal Son.  Our stories are familiar and comforting.  Who here doesn't have a favorite family story that they love to share.  Or a story that takes a special place of importance at family events.  I recall with great fondness Christmas Eves in my childhood.  After we had eaten and before we could open any packages, my Grandfather would be called upon to read the Lukan Christmas Story--you know the one; it begins “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.” (Interesting that taxes form the beginning of this great story, but that’s a topic for another day.)  Granddad, an ordained minister in the American Baptist tradition, would take his worn bible in hand and in that powerful voice of his, tell us this world-changing story.  Well, we were kids, and it was Christmas Eve, so at the time all we could think about was, “Hurry up!  Skip to the end! Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know, we know-- blah blah blah”.  Thinking about it now, what I wouldn’t give to be able to hear him tell me that story once again.  But, through the hazy fog of memory, I can recall this event and retell it to you.  It’s part of my story.  It’s part of who I am and who I've grown to be and how I now find myself as your new Director of Christian Life. 

So just how did I get here?  I’ll spare you all of the details, but I thought it might be useful for you to know some of my story and how you, this congregation and church and choir, have played a part in my story.  And how my story is part of our story and how our story continues.

My path to faith has been rocky, circuitous and fraught with pitfalls, hubris, certainty, doubt, passion, boredom, and I am sure similar to many of your paths to faith.  We don’t come to this place easily.  We have many more questions than we will ever have answers; and uncertainty and doubt threaten to undermine us every step of the way.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Would you?  That’s part of our story—how we got here.

I grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition at Pleasantview Baptist Church in Derby, Kansas….America.  I remember going to Sunday school and memorizing scripture and singing a song about all of the books of the bible.  I recall Vacation Bible School and grape Kool-aid.  Forever, the taste or smell of that particular chemical in grape Kool-aid transports me to the hot courtyard of that Baptist Church down there on Buckner Street.

I also remember the particular dread I always felt during the alter call.  I tried to make myself as invisible as possible, so that no one would notice that, once again, this week, Paul Jackson DIDN’T go forward.  He didn't dedicate his life to Christ.  He didn’t agree to accept Jesus as his personal-lord-and-savior and be born again.  Some of you are squirming right now because you remember those moments all-too-well. If you’ve never experienced this particular brand of “worship” let me assure you that you are missing nothing.  Well, nothing but lots and lots of guilt and plenty of faith traditions serve that up on a weekly, if not daily, basis—so, you get the idea.

Eventually I did go forward and complete the expected rite of passage of being “born again”.  I was baptized by Brother Berry in the full immersion style peculiar to Southern Baptists—there was a huge painting of the River Jordan behind the baptismal pool and I wore white and it was cold and wet and, finally, done.  My family was extremely proud of me—but nothing really changed.  I still went to Sunday School and I still had grape Kool-aid in the courtyard.  But I don’t recall looking at the world any differently other than being grateful that I didn't have to endure the guilt during the alter call any more.  It was someone else’s turn to squirm.

My parents divorced when I was 11 or 12—I know I've been told the date, but it was more of a season in my life—the separation and dissolution of the family I had always known.  I remember that mom went to Brother Berry and specifically asked him if there was a place for her and her children at his church.  I remember mom telling us that Bother Berry assured her that, indeed, the church would care for us as if nothing had happened.  And I remember the next Sunday, when Brother Berry preached on how a divorced person could not be seen as worthy in the sight of God.  And I remember my mother gathering up her children, in the middle of the sermon, and marching all of us out of that church—never to return.  I’m still incredibly proud of mom for this powerful act of defiance.

Thus began my years of wandering.  Someday I might write down the entire journey, but because I don’t want to wear out my new welcome just yet, I’ll skip to the important part.  Let’s just say that I eventually found my way to Woodlawn United Methodist Church in Derby and was embraced by the youth, the congregation and the ministers.  In fact, it was this relationship with the good Methodists that allowed me to attend Southwestern College in Winfield where I founded a series of important friendships that last to this day.  I will always remember and honor the good people of Woodlawn United Methodist—their love for me was evident not only in words, but in their selfless acts of kindness shown to me and my family.  I can still feel their residual embrace and it is only now, with the focus that time gives us, that I recognize the blessing and benefit that being involved with that congregation gave me. I am forever indebted to them--one of the best chapters in my story.

But I still wandered—I went to Lawrence and attended KU for a period of time and while there, as many young people do, I fell away from church.  I would only attend during friends’ weddings or at other expected times, but I never really gave it much thought.  It wasn't important to me.

When the circumstances of my life brought me back to Wichita in the early 1990’s, I found myself attending, once again, a Methodist church.  College Hill United Methodist Church, to be exact—and once again I found myself blessed by what seemed an insignificant choice.  Because of chance, Providence, Fate or God, I landed at College Hill at the height of George Gardner’s ministry.  If you don’t know the man of whom I speak, suffice it say that his was a voice of Progressive Christianity in the wilderness that spoke to me, and many others, with its passionate embrace of all people and all faiths and all social classes.  Now, George had his faults, we all do, but his theology sparked a fire in me that has smoldered for years.  I sang in the choir at College Hill and enjoyed being a member of this progressive congregation.  I worked with the youth and was a sponsor on one of their trips to Chicago.  I loved the work I did with this church.

In the summer of 1995 I sang at a friend’s wedding here at UCC.  I met Pat Jones, he was the accompanist, and after the first time I sang for him, he asked me if I had a church job.  I said I never had, that I had only volunteered at College Hill.  He explained to me how the music staff system worked here at UCC and how that level of professionalism allowed Bob Scott and others to offer a music program of consistency and strength that an all-volunteer choir finds difficult to achieve.  I was intrigued and said yes when Pat asked me to audition for Bob Scott that next Sunday for your tenor soloist position.

I showed up for the service and sat right back there (second row from the back, left side, near the aisle) and went up after the service to be introduced to Bob Scott and to sing for him.  I was scared to death.  Pat was encouraging and we launched into a verse of “Be Thou My Vision”, one of my favorite hymns.  Bob smiled that big smile of his and hired me on the spot. 

Singing in this choir and being a part of this congregation has changed me in profound ways.  The exposure to thoughtful theological inquiry has made my faith more meaningful to me.  Singing with these talented musicians on a regular basis has allowed my gifts to reach a skill level I doubt I would have achieved otherwise.

As a member of this church and of this choir I have shared in your lives.  I have sung at your weddings and mourned at your funerals and weekly I sit right up there in the tenor section and look at your lovely faces as we worship together.  And that’s not going to change; I will still lift up my voice in celebration with Bob and the choir and continue to wear a musical hat, as it were, for this church. Serving you in this capacity has given me a clearer vision of what Jesus meant by serving one another—it has given me a glimpse of what is meant by living in “right relationship”.

Now I am stepping into a new role: Director of Christian Life. Wow—that’s quite a title.  But I think it captures all we want this position to be striving towards: comprehensive educational programs that cover the life-span of our entire congregation, a focal point for all of our growth efforts and someone to assist Robin with the care of this dynamic congregation.  To that end, with the Deacons’ approval and support and Robin’s mentorship, I have applied for the Lay Ministry Program offered through our affiliation with the National Association of Congregational Christian Churches.  Check the newsletter for more information about this exciting chapter in our lives together.  We've recently announced the upcoming fall season educational programs and there are numerous ways for you to engage with your theology, our congregation and this community.

Walt Whitman writes in A Song of Myself: “I sing myself, and celebrate myself, and what I assume you shall assume for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you”.  I've been singing myself and telling a bit of my story and I hope it helps you understand a little better what has brought me to this point in my life.  In our lives together.  I think it’s a pretty good story and I look forward to the next chapters and plot twists and wonderful complications that make our lives richer and more meaningful.

So, what’s your story?  How did you get here—to this place—in your life?  I want to know and I will be asking in the coming months.  It’s important that we reflect upon where we all have been—it may give us a clearer direction of where we want to go.  We might have a gut-feeling or intuit our direction, but careful reflection upon our past faith journeys can provide us with important insight--because your story matters.  It matters to all of us.

I look forward to serving you in this new capacity.  Thank you for the opportunity and may our creator God bless us all as we continue our story.

Director of Christian Life

My new job title reads "Director of Christian Life".  What does that mean, you may ask?  What exactly do you believe in, Paul?

Easy to answer--I believe in us.  In humanity.  And I believe we can make this thing work.  We need help and we must stop vilifying the "other". And we must never be content with the easy way out.  I believe we can all pursue our lives as we best see fit without harming others or our world.

I also believe that a great man named Jesus of Nazareth came to our attention in the midst of a Roman occupation of his homeland.  I believe this radical man had much to teach us.  And we still have much to learn.

I believe that ultimately it comes down to this: to those in power and those sure that they belong, Jesus would ask, "Are you sure?"  And to those with no power and voice and sure that they didn't belong, Jesus would ask of them as well..."Are you sure?".  His stance was that everyone was welcome to the table of God (and therefore the table of life and community) and that no one was to be excluded.  His church was to be founded on inclusivity, not dogma or hierarchy or creed.  I doubt he would recognize most modern churches.  For that matter, I doubt most modern churches would notice, let alone welcome, him.

So, back to my job title.  A Christian Life is one of community, exploration of theology, care for one another, and worship of a God that fits your expectations.  Life is rich with experience and joy and beauty.  It is meant to be lived fully and with each other.  It is not a contest.  It is not a battle.  It most certainly is not to be missed.

Pax,

Paul

First week--New Job

I've just finished my first week as University Congregational Church's new Director of Christian Life.  What a great week it has been!  I was able to get up and running first thing on Monday and I really haven't stopped since.  Duane and I just finished up at one of our congregant's houses getting some grab-bars installed for her as she recovers from recent surgery.  I spent part of the week meeting with various congregational leaders and discussing ways in which this new staff position (myself) can help them out.  I having begun outlining our fall educational offerings and we are making plans for our all-church ice cream social on Sunday, August 4th from 4-7 or so.

I'll post more as I get better acquainted with this new job and all it entails; however, given that I have hardly posted at all in the past 5 years, anything is an improvement!

Pax,

Paul

Christmas Carol 2012

On Sunday, December 23, 2012, we closed the latest edition of our musical version of A Christmas Carol.  I wrote a new song for Jacob Marley, The Weary Journey, and Ray Wills, Broadway, Film and TV veteran, took it and made it an thrilling moment.  Overall, it was a stronger show--mostly because we had 4 more performers this year, but also because we weren't flying by the seat of our pants.  The production team knew better what we wanted to accomplish and we had last year's experience to draw from.

It was a beautiful show and very well received by our Wichita audiences.  It's time for this version to obtain a life outside of Wichita!

Happy New Year!

Paul

NYC Trip--Summer 2012

Duane and I returned last Saturday from a terrific week in NYC.  We rented a small apartment in Hell's Kitchen and this turned out to be a great idea.  We were close to the theatre district, to all kinds of transportation and some great restaurants. 

We landed in Newark late on Saturday, July 28 (after a very long delay in Minneapolis) and, after dropping our belongings off in Hell's Kitchen, promptly set about exploring our neighborhood. Duane was wanting some Two Boots pizza, so we did that and then went to find an open pharmacy (my health, as usual!).

On Sunday we went to see a reading of a new musical called "Marina" at the New York Musical Theater Festival (NYMF) and enjoyed that very much.  Directly after that we went to a full production of another NYMF show called "Swing State" and this show was very good.  I am going to get with Kathy Page Hauptman at the Forum about possibly securing the rights to produce this...it would be excellent on our stage here in Wichita.  Sunday evening ended with us going to the Speigel Tent and seeing a very weird and wonderful circus called "Empire".

More to come soon..........