As one who lives on Wall Street, I found it surprising to read in the Times Online that Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, had visited there at Trinity Church this week. Of course, Williams was in New York, not LA (Lilesville Area). Rowan delivered timely remarks and criticism during his lesson that targeted the financial greed of our society.
Standing at the lectern of the famously wealthy US Episcopal church, which lies at the head of Wall Street, the leader of the Anglican Communion noted, “Do we live in a broken society? Well, in many ways we live in society where far too many people live deeply fragmented lives even if they’re materially well-off. We live in a world that’s broken in the sense that a very large part of our world, notably Africa, feels, with a good deal of justification, that the rest of the world has more or less stopped thinking about it. In a sense that is brokenness, where one sector of the human family says, we don’t believe that the rest of you have any investment in what happens to us. That’s real brokenness.” He went on to say that society was founded on love, and there would be no sustainable model until this was recognised.
There is real truth in his comments at Trinity. Unfortunately, like most warnings and calls for true repentance, the echoes of prophets fall on deaf ears. The Times reported, "but there were no bankers or traders listening in Trinity Wall Street and, even if there had been, it is unlikely that they would have recognised the old man from Britain with the shock of white hair." As someone preached from the pulpit this morning, "If we give every corner of our life over to Christ, except our finances then we will fail." Awaken us Lord to give every corner of our life to you.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Fine dining
It was one of those pastel colored, industrial-thick, plastic trays complete with container lid. It’s supposed to seal in the freshness or the heat, but just by looking at this tray container, you begin to doubt how they sanitize these things and if the food will even be lukewarm at all. You know the food trays I’m talking about. Every hospital or care facility around has them.
They placed the tray directly in front of her and her son reached over to remove the lid revealing a perfectly domed scoop of chicken salad on a bed of lettuce. Of course, there was an ice cream cup too - crackers, a cup of black-eyed pea soup, fruit cup, and juice. Her daughter-in-law secured the matching pastel bib around her neck and chest while the grandchildren eagerly helped open the containers and rearrange the food into small edible portions. After situating her napkin, she found her utensils and begin to dig in.
There was no real art to the meal. In fact, at times it seemed she was really shoveling it down. While she could still use a little assistance occasionally, it was a blessing to be able to feed yourself basically on your own. Her family gathered around her table and watched with delight as she ate. It was quite entertaining to watch at times and if there was a spill here or there, or an unexpected burp, it was all the more amusing. She found the chicken salad equally amusing. She would look up occasionally, raise her eyebrows wide-eyed and beam with joy.
Of course, there were others in the dining hall too. Buzz sat by himself facing a wall at the next table over. He was a 74 year-old history teacher with Parkinson’s. If you saw him in his wheelchair, you’d notice how his left leg bounces uncontrollably at times. His hands aren’t so steady either. He struggled to eat from his plastic tray that day. Every time he would get a cup of fruit or juice up to his mouth to gulp, the shaking would start. Yet, he did his best to try to keep from making a mess. After a while, Buzz gave up and he wheeled himself over to their table. They asked if they could help him in any way, but he politely declined and assured them he was finished. "It wasn’t my kind of dinner," he said.
So, Buzz just sat there with them (awkwardly it seemed) and they all watched as she cleaned her plate forkful by forkful. As she finished, Buzz decided it was time to move on, so he started to move away. The family thanked Buzz for joining them and expressed to him how nice it was to have met him. And then Buzz said something that completely changed any awkwardness of that meal. He thanked them. In a gruff, but genuine, voice he admitted that today was the first meal he had enjoyed in a long time. He said, he had hardly eaten anything now in two weeks, but today he learned something.
As he sat around and watched them with their grandmother and watched how she did her best to feed herself, he realized that it doesn’t really matter how you eat or what other people think of you. All this time, as his disease has progressed, he had been afraid and embarrassed of what others would see and the mess he would make. Watching the playful interaction of that family today changed everything for him. It changed everything for them too. A lackluster chicken salad entrée in a plastic container became a fine dining experience that afternoon. It wasn’t so much what was being served as who was there. That made all the difference in the world.
They placed the tray directly in front of her and her son reached over to remove the lid revealing a perfectly domed scoop of chicken salad on a bed of lettuce. Of course, there was an ice cream cup too - crackers, a cup of black-eyed pea soup, fruit cup, and juice. Her daughter-in-law secured the matching pastel bib around her neck and chest while the grandchildren eagerly helped open the containers and rearrange the food into small edible portions. After situating her napkin, she found her utensils and begin to dig in.
There was no real art to the meal. In fact, at times it seemed she was really shoveling it down. While she could still use a little assistance occasionally, it was a blessing to be able to feed yourself basically on your own. Her family gathered around her table and watched with delight as she ate. It was quite entertaining to watch at times and if there was a spill here or there, or an unexpected burp, it was all the more amusing. She found the chicken salad equally amusing. She would look up occasionally, raise her eyebrows wide-eyed and beam with joy.
Of course, there were others in the dining hall too. Buzz sat by himself facing a wall at the next table over. He was a 74 year-old history teacher with Parkinson’s. If you saw him in his wheelchair, you’d notice how his left leg bounces uncontrollably at times. His hands aren’t so steady either. He struggled to eat from his plastic tray that day. Every time he would get a cup of fruit or juice up to his mouth to gulp, the shaking would start. Yet, he did his best to try to keep from making a mess. After a while, Buzz gave up and he wheeled himself over to their table. They asked if they could help him in any way, but he politely declined and assured them he was finished. "It wasn’t my kind of dinner," he said.
So, Buzz just sat there with them (awkwardly it seemed) and they all watched as she cleaned her plate forkful by forkful. As she finished, Buzz decided it was time to move on, so he started to move away. The family thanked Buzz for joining them and expressed to him how nice it was to have met him. And then Buzz said something that completely changed any awkwardness of that meal. He thanked them. In a gruff, but genuine, voice he admitted that today was the first meal he had enjoyed in a long time. He said, he had hardly eaten anything now in two weeks, but today he learned something.
As he sat around and watched them with their grandmother and watched how she did her best to feed herself, he realized that it doesn’t really matter how you eat or what other people think of you. All this time, as his disease has progressed, he had been afraid and embarrassed of what others would see and the mess he would make. Watching the playful interaction of that family today changed everything for him. It changed everything for them too. A lackluster chicken salad entrée in a plastic container became a fine dining experience that afternoon. It wasn’t so much what was being served as who was there. That made all the difference in the world.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
See the game. Save a life
March 6 is a chance for Methodists in the NC, WNC, & SC Conference to take over the Time Warner Cable Arena and raise money to fight malaria with NothingbutNets. As promised, here is the link and info for how churches and youth can purchase their tickets. Just imagine if a 1000 Methodists raise money and make it to the game on Mar 6th. That's $10000 and 1000 bed nets! See the game. Save a life
Join Bishop Goodpaster and young people across NC to raise awareness, save lives, wipe out malaria with mosquito nets, and rock the TWC Arena with a night of hoops on March 6th.
Churches are asked to raise money for Nothing But Nets prior to the event and report their totals (with a goal of $10 per participant).
Individuals and churches who raise the most will have the chance to join the Bobcats on the floor for the national anthem and serve as honorary ball kids!
Tickets are $20. $5 of each ticket sold goes toward NothingButNets
Come celebrate as we take over Time Warner Arena and transform the world! Ticket Order Link and Fundrasing resources available at:
http://www.wnccumc.org/yth/bobcats.htm
Join Bishop Goodpaster and young people across NC to raise awareness, save lives, wipe out malaria with mosquito nets, and rock the TWC Arena with a night of hoops on March 6th.
Churches are asked to raise money for Nothing But Nets prior to the event and report their totals (with a goal of $10 per participant).
Individuals and churches who raise the most will have the chance to join the Bobcats on the floor for the national anthem and serve as honorary ball kids!
Tickets are $20. $5 of each ticket sold goes toward NothingButNets
Come celebrate as we take over Time Warner Arena and transform the world! Ticket Order Link and Fundrasing resources available at:
http://www.wnccumc.org/yth/bobcats.htm
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