I’ll take the night before Thanksgiving over Christmas Eve any year. Christmas Eve is a tired ol’day, worn out by the flurry of activity preceding it, and by the time it arrives, usually too soon, it’s all out of breath as it plops its burden of stress and strain---last minute shopping, checklists, nagging questions (Did I get her the right gift? Will it fit him? Should I have just given the kids money and been done with it?) ---at your doorstep.
But the night before Thanksgiving is different. At least it is for me. It’s tucked in between Halloween and Christmas, and if you’re not careful, you’ll miss it. While the world rushes to Christmas, Thanksgiving just sits there, calmly inviting whosoever will to come and visit a while.
Some families get together the night before Thanksgiving, and that in itself is something of a miracle. When they do, the focus is usually more on each other than in exchanging gifts.
My family would usually travel to my mom’s side of the family for Thanksgiving. Grandmother’s house was small, simple and plain. By the time we arrived from a three hour trip, it was well nigh impossible to corral my three brothers and me. But somehow they did, and we even liked it. In that little house almost on the prairie in Glencoe, Oklahoma, we visited with each other.
And I got to know my grandmother that way.
Soon we would pile in the car, Grandmother with us, and drive to Aunt Dee’s and Uncle Leo’s house where we would stay the night. Maybe it was because I had just been to Grandmother’s, but their home seemed enormous to me. It allowed plenty of room for roaming, and its hidden nooks, which seemed to me expressly made for hiding, invited us boys into them only so we could leap out of them, scaring unsuspecting victims. At some point in all the jumping and running and hollering and hiding, Uncle Leo’s booming base voice would bellow, “Time for dinner,” and like hungry bear cubs running to their den, we would dash to the table.
And then the calm, allowing space for conversation.
And I got to know my aunt and uncle and cousins that way.
I hope we haven’t forgotten the night before Thanksgiving because it just might be the best preparation for Thanksgiving Day. If we forget it, it’s because we’ve lost our sense of thankfulness; it’s because we’ve become consumers and receivers---getting, receiving, leaving, exiting: “See ya next year,” we wave, rushing, with thoughts of specials on “Black Friday,” toward another commercial Christmas.
Giving thanks isn’t the norm. In the story of the 10 lepers Jesus healed, only one returned to thank him. “Where are the other nine?” (Luke 17:17), Jesus asked the one who returned. Like so many today, having received what they wanted, they were too busy to say, “Thanks.”
Before you bypass the night before Thanksgiving, try pausing and enjoying it, even if just for a little while. That’s what I plan to do. Hopefully, it will set me on the path to being more thankful.
So, I’m going to step outside, stare into the night sky, and if the stars are out, I’m going to smile as they twinkle back at me. Then I’m going to step inside and give thanks for my family, each one of them.
Then I’m going to call some family members who live far away and thank them for being who they are.
And as I drift off to sleep the night before Thanksgiving, I’m going to give thanks for a God who cares.
And waking to Thanksgiving Day, I’m going to give thanks for the smell of hot coffee brewing, for the glowing sunrise that chases away the early morning fog, for the blue sky or gentle pitter patter of rain, for the turkey and dressing with all the trimmings, for the quiet glow of the setting sun, for the twitter of birds preparing for rest, and for the cycle of life---even for all its spins, and turns, and starts, and stops.
And then, the night before Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving Day will be history once again.
But if we live it right, “thanks living” can become a way of life, making each moment a gift in the most wonderful time of any year.
Contact David B.Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Say it ain't so, Joe
When I first heard the news of Joe Paterno’s failure to do more to protect the kids in the case of Jerry Sandusky’s alleged crime, my first thought was, “Say it ain’t so, Joe”---the line the little boy supposedly spoke to baseball legend Shoeless Joe Jackson as he walked down the steps of the courthouse after appearing before a grand jury for allegedly fixing the 1919 World Series.
Conspiring to throw a ball game for money, the accusation---never proven--- made to Jackson and seven of his teammates, may be shameful and tragic, but not doing more to stop a man who allegedly raped a 10 year old boy in a locker room shower is not just shameful and tragic, it’s horrifying and disgusting.
The salaciousness of it, the manner in which it was overlooked, and the little ones who could have been saved from molestation---all this stunned a university and a nation.
Say it ain’t so, Joe.
But unfortunately, it is so: "This is a tragedy," Paterno said. "It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more."
Why didn’t he? Why did a man who built what he called the “Grand Experiment,”--- combining a championship football program with academic excellence---a man who built a career on the qualities of character and integrity and sought to instill those characteristics in his players--- why, why didn’t he do more?
The institution---in this case Penn State football---became bigger than life and in this instance protecting its life caused a terrible lapse in judgment. Paterno did what was legally required; he didn’t do what was morally right. He shuffled the problem down the hall to the next administrative level and went back to work, recruiting, coaching, and winning. Success can be intoxicating, causing the best of people to rationalize or ignore wrong.
The success of an institution is never worth endangering the lives of children.
The comparison to what happened in the Roman Catholic Church can’t be missed: Jonathan Mahler observed in The New York Times, "The parallels are too striking to ignore. A suspected predator who exploits his position to take advantage of his young charges. The trusting colleagues who don't want to believe it -- and so don't."
And so a pristine image is tarnished, an icon is shattered, a legend has fallen.
Previous to this terrible episode, Paterno spoke on ESPN of his legacy: “You coach when you’re young to prove that you can do the job, and then there comes a point when you’ve got a family and you need to make a certain amount of dollars, and then there comes a point when the money’s got nothing to do with it. It comes to a point where you say to yourself: ‘What are you going to leave?’”
No one ever thought Joe Paterno would leave a mess behind him.
He has been condemned, and rightly so, for what he didn’t do. But Paterno’s life is not over. We should remember the words of historian James Anthony Froude, “The worth of a man must be measured by his life, not by his failure under a singular and peculiar trial.”
Healing starts where last week’s football game began: with the Penn State and Nebraska players kneeling together at midfield and praying for the victims in this tragedy. Remembering them will hopefully help prevent the further exploitation of children.
Joe will never be able to say it ain’t so; his honor is tarnished. But perhaps in time he can find a way to speak words of healing and maybe remind those who loved him that despite his own failure of integrity, his team’s motto, “success with honor,” is still possible for leaders and followers. Indeed, this horrendous episode can underscore the need for constant vigilance in protecting the honor in all individuals, especially the weak and vulnerable.
Maybe someday Joe will have a voice again, but he will always walk with a painful limp as he tells the sad story.
David B. Whitlock. Ph.D. is Pastor at Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct instructor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com.
Conspiring to throw a ball game for money, the accusation---never proven--- made to Jackson and seven of his teammates, may be shameful and tragic, but not doing more to stop a man who allegedly raped a 10 year old boy in a locker room shower is not just shameful and tragic, it’s horrifying and disgusting.
The salaciousness of it, the manner in which it was overlooked, and the little ones who could have been saved from molestation---all this stunned a university and a nation.
Say it ain’t so, Joe.
But unfortunately, it is so: "This is a tragedy," Paterno said. "It is one of the great sorrows of my life. With the benefit of hindsight, I wish I had done more."
Why didn’t he? Why did a man who built what he called the “Grand Experiment,”--- combining a championship football program with academic excellence---a man who built a career on the qualities of character and integrity and sought to instill those characteristics in his players--- why, why didn’t he do more?
The institution---in this case Penn State football---became bigger than life and in this instance protecting its life caused a terrible lapse in judgment. Paterno did what was legally required; he didn’t do what was morally right. He shuffled the problem down the hall to the next administrative level and went back to work, recruiting, coaching, and winning. Success can be intoxicating, causing the best of people to rationalize or ignore wrong.
The success of an institution is never worth endangering the lives of children.
The comparison to what happened in the Roman Catholic Church can’t be missed: Jonathan Mahler observed in The New York Times, "The parallels are too striking to ignore. A suspected predator who exploits his position to take advantage of his young charges. The trusting colleagues who don't want to believe it -- and so don't."
And so a pristine image is tarnished, an icon is shattered, a legend has fallen.
Previous to this terrible episode, Paterno spoke on ESPN of his legacy: “You coach when you’re young to prove that you can do the job, and then there comes a point when you’ve got a family and you need to make a certain amount of dollars, and then there comes a point when the money’s got nothing to do with it. It comes to a point where you say to yourself: ‘What are you going to leave?’”
No one ever thought Joe Paterno would leave a mess behind him.
He has been condemned, and rightly so, for what he didn’t do. But Paterno’s life is not over. We should remember the words of historian James Anthony Froude, “The worth of a man must be measured by his life, not by his failure under a singular and peculiar trial.”
Healing starts where last week’s football game began: with the Penn State and Nebraska players kneeling together at midfield and praying for the victims in this tragedy. Remembering them will hopefully help prevent the further exploitation of children.
Joe will never be able to say it ain’t so; his honor is tarnished. But perhaps in time he can find a way to speak words of healing and maybe remind those who loved him that despite his own failure of integrity, his team’s motto, “success with honor,” is still possible for leaders and followers. Indeed, this horrendous episode can underscore the need for constant vigilance in protecting the honor in all individuals, especially the weak and vulnerable.
Maybe someday Joe will have a voice again, but he will always walk with a painful limp as he tells the sad story.
David B. Whitlock. Ph.D. is Pastor at Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct instructor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Listen before telling of your own beliefs
We had just left the Hindu temple when I noticed the red dot on my mother’s forehead. It was the “tilaki,” the third eye or mind's eye, associated with many Hindu gods, also symbolizing the idea of meditation and spiritual enlightenment. I, a recent graduate of a high school education, feeding on my scholastic possibilities, feeling strong in my evangelical superiority, upbraided my mother: “You let them mark you! And, that’s a false religion.”
My mother was neither intimidated or perturbed by her 19 year old son: “How else can I find out what they think and how they worship if I don’t interact with them?”she calmly responded. “And besides,” she said repressing a chuckle at my religious apoplexy, “just because they put the red mark on me doesn’t mean I believe it. Remember son, the importance of civility, cordiality, and respect before you tell them about your faith.”
It was lesson I took to heart. “Maybe there is some truth in their faith,” I surmised. “Perhaps I don’t have an exclusive corner on all eternal truth.”
I was with my parents those thirty- some years ago, on a six-week medical mission ministry to Bangalore, India. It was then that Mom and I had had that brief conversation that redirected me to a more sympathetic view of other faiths.
I hadn’t thought of that encounter with Hinduism for years until I read of Senator David Williams’ attack on Kentucky Governor Steve Beshear’s participation in a “ground blessing” Hindu ceremony where the site of an Indian company is building a factory in Elizabethtown, Ky. Williams took issue with Beshear: “He’s sitting down there with his legs crossed, participating in Hindu prayers with a dot on his forehead with incense burning around him. I don’t know what the man was thinking.”
Williiams himself has taken it on the chin for his remarks as many across the state were angered by his criticism of Beshear in the heat of the campaign for governor.
But Williams, despite his religious hyperbole--- was it simply a last gasp endeavor to reverse his lag in the polls? ---unwittingly did us a favor: He broached the question about the interaction of various faiths in a pluralistic society, such as ours, and reflection on the issue may help us clarify where we stand on the matter.
In the increasingly smaller and more pluralistic world we live in, it’s essential that people of different faiths learn to get along with each other. Today, Christians are persecuted in various parts of the Middle East. The steady resurgence of Tibetan Buddhism is raising tensions in China as followers of that faith seek religious rights. And in Carrolton, Ohio one sect within the Amish community has taken up the practice of forcibly cutting off the beards of men in the more mainstream Amish faith.
The more intense some grow in their own ideology, the more intolerant they become of others with different beliefs. But passion for one’s faith doesn’t have to translate into offensive words or harmful actions towards others.
And that brings me back to momma: “Remember son, the importance of civility, cordiality, and respect before you tell them about your faith.” That may or not be the right tactic when you are behind in a political race, as was Senator David Williams, but it deserves a look in the real world we live in.
We are linked with others, like it or not--- and closer culturally, economically, and religiously, than ever before in human history. Getting along doesn’t mean we have to give up the uniqueness of our faith traditions, but that we honor the endeavor of truth in others. This involves genuine dialogue, which presupposes that we know the persons to whom we speak and that we respect them in their cultural and religious identity. It also means that we expose ourselves, in the sense that we allow for the possibility of more truth in our own belief system. For Christians, giving an account of the hope within, (I Peter 3:15), may require proclaiming the gospel, free from a cultural triumphalism that expects those in “inferior” cultures to receive automatically the particular brand of “good news” various Christian denominations may proffer.
In essence, it means respecting and honoring the faiths of other people. It requires an attitude of humility---something those who engage in a win/lose form of religious conversation aren’t accustomed to having.
But maybe it’s time they did.
Just ask David Williams.
David B. Whitlock is pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Kentucky. He also teaches on the adjunct faculty at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlo
My mother was neither intimidated or perturbed by her 19 year old son: “How else can I find out what they think and how they worship if I don’t interact with them?”she calmly responded. “And besides,” she said repressing a chuckle at my religious apoplexy, “just because they put the red mark on me doesn’t mean I believe it. Remember son, the importance of civility, cordiality, and respect before you tell them about your faith.”
It was lesson I took to heart. “Maybe there is some truth in their faith,” I surmised. “Perhaps I don’t have an exclusive corner on all eternal truth.”
I was with my parents those thirty- some years ago, on a six-week medical mission ministry to Bangalore, India. It was then that Mom and I had had that brief conversation that redirected me to a more sympathetic view of other faiths.
I hadn’t thought of that encounter with Hinduism for years until I read of Senator David Williams’ attack on Kentucky Governor Steve Beshear’s participation in a “ground blessing” Hindu ceremony where the site of an Indian company is building a factory in Elizabethtown, Ky. Williams took issue with Beshear: “He’s sitting down there with his legs crossed, participating in Hindu prayers with a dot on his forehead with incense burning around him. I don’t know what the man was thinking.”
Williiams himself has taken it on the chin for his remarks as many across the state were angered by his criticism of Beshear in the heat of the campaign for governor.
But Williams, despite his religious hyperbole--- was it simply a last gasp endeavor to reverse his lag in the polls? ---unwittingly did us a favor: He broached the question about the interaction of various faiths in a pluralistic society, such as ours, and reflection on the issue may help us clarify where we stand on the matter.
In the increasingly smaller and more pluralistic world we live in, it’s essential that people of different faiths learn to get along with each other. Today, Christians are persecuted in various parts of the Middle East. The steady resurgence of Tibetan Buddhism is raising tensions in China as followers of that faith seek religious rights. And in Carrolton, Ohio one sect within the Amish community has taken up the practice of forcibly cutting off the beards of men in the more mainstream Amish faith.
The more intense some grow in their own ideology, the more intolerant they become of others with different beliefs. But passion for one’s faith doesn’t have to translate into offensive words or harmful actions towards others.
And that brings me back to momma: “Remember son, the importance of civility, cordiality, and respect before you tell them about your faith.” That may or not be the right tactic when you are behind in a political race, as was Senator David Williams, but it deserves a look in the real world we live in.
We are linked with others, like it or not--- and closer culturally, economically, and religiously, than ever before in human history. Getting along doesn’t mean we have to give up the uniqueness of our faith traditions, but that we honor the endeavor of truth in others. This involves genuine dialogue, which presupposes that we know the persons to whom we speak and that we respect them in their cultural and religious identity. It also means that we expose ourselves, in the sense that we allow for the possibility of more truth in our own belief system. For Christians, giving an account of the hope within, (I Peter 3:15), may require proclaiming the gospel, free from a cultural triumphalism that expects those in “inferior” cultures to receive automatically the particular brand of “good news” various Christian denominations may proffer.
In essence, it means respecting and honoring the faiths of other people. It requires an attitude of humility---something those who engage in a win/lose form of religious conversation aren’t accustomed to having.
But maybe it’s time they did.
Just ask David Williams.
David B. Whitlock is pastor of Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Kentucky. He also teaches on the adjunct faculty at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky. Contact David at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. or visit his website, davidbwhitlo
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Keep the light on: Don’t miss the victory
I couldn’t take it any longer. Fatigued at the end of the work week and convinced my St. Louis Cardinals would not survive Game 6 of the World Series, I turned the light off and was fast asleep by 11:15 p.m., EST.
Early the next morning, Lori asked me who won. “Oh, the Texas Rangers did,” I mournfully informed her. “I stayed with the Cardinals until they left the bases loaded and fell behind 7-4.”
I didn’t go into detail because she is not a baseball fan, but the Cardinals weren’t playing well, I thought. Not only had they left the bases loaded and blown a chance to take the lead, they had also committed three errors---something they hadn’t done in a World Series since game 3 of the 1943 Series. I had tried to help my team by repeating my baseball mantra, “Get a hit, get a hit, get a hit, get a hit,” or “Strike out, strike out, strike out, strike out,” but the baseball gods weren’t listening: Our pitchers were getting hammered and even Albert Pujols was hitless. So assured was I that the Cardinals were dead that I had not even bothered to turn on the TV and check the score, just in case…
Just in case of what? That they would win? No way.
I was pouring myself another cup of coffee when I heard Lori shout from upstairs: “David, your team won! They made a comeback and beat the Rangers.” I raced to the TV and incredulously watched the 6 a.m. sports summary of the Cardinals’ victory; I couldn’t believe it, but it happened: They had miraculously won.
I had missed one the greatest World Series games ever.
There was a lot of baseball left after I had called it quits. The Cardinals rallied behind the bats of Pujols, Lance Berkman, and Allan Craig, as the game went back and forth and into extra innings. Twice the Rangers were one strike away from winning the game and the Series. (The last time a team blew a lead with only 1 strike away from the championship was the 1992 Blue Jays in Atlanta.) Then Cardinals David Freese, who would be named the World Series MVP the next night when the Cards won the Series with a 6-2 win over the Rangers, homered in the bottom of the 11th to force the first game 7 of the Series since 2002.
It was described as “one of the best (World Series) games ever,” by sports columnist Jeff Passan.
And I missed it.
Later that morning as I was smiling at the thought of their victory, and a bit remorseful at not having cheered them through it, I think I had a tiny inkling of what the followers of Jesus must have felt three days later, after they had turned off the light of hope and cried themselves to sleep, convinced that the stone covering the tomb was a permanent fixture, wondering why they had spent three years following someone who wasn’t the Victor after all.
They missed it too.
“You had to be here to believe it,” Cardinals manager Tony La Russa said. “We never quit trying. I know that’s kind of corny, but the fact is we never quit trying.”
And said Cardinals general manager John Mozeliak, “Those two [game-saving] at-bats were epic and historic as far as Cardinal lore. No matter what, if we’re down to our last strike, we don’t quit.”
I understand gentlemen; I’ll keep swinging, too.
And most of all, I’ll keep the light on and one eye open until He returns in victory.
I won’t miss that one.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com.
Early the next morning, Lori asked me who won. “Oh, the Texas Rangers did,” I mournfully informed her. “I stayed with the Cardinals until they left the bases loaded and fell behind 7-4.”
I didn’t go into detail because she is not a baseball fan, but the Cardinals weren’t playing well, I thought. Not only had they left the bases loaded and blown a chance to take the lead, they had also committed three errors---something they hadn’t done in a World Series since game 3 of the 1943 Series. I had tried to help my team by repeating my baseball mantra, “Get a hit, get a hit, get a hit, get a hit,” or “Strike out, strike out, strike out, strike out,” but the baseball gods weren’t listening: Our pitchers were getting hammered and even Albert Pujols was hitless. So assured was I that the Cardinals were dead that I had not even bothered to turn on the TV and check the score, just in case…
Just in case of what? That they would win? No way.
I was pouring myself another cup of coffee when I heard Lori shout from upstairs: “David, your team won! They made a comeback and beat the Rangers.” I raced to the TV and incredulously watched the 6 a.m. sports summary of the Cardinals’ victory; I couldn’t believe it, but it happened: They had miraculously won.
I had missed one the greatest World Series games ever.
There was a lot of baseball left after I had called it quits. The Cardinals rallied behind the bats of Pujols, Lance Berkman, and Allan Craig, as the game went back and forth and into extra innings. Twice the Rangers were one strike away from winning the game and the Series. (The last time a team blew a lead with only 1 strike away from the championship was the 1992 Blue Jays in Atlanta.) Then Cardinals David Freese, who would be named the World Series MVP the next night when the Cards won the Series with a 6-2 win over the Rangers, homered in the bottom of the 11th to force the first game 7 of the Series since 2002.
It was described as “one of the best (World Series) games ever,” by sports columnist Jeff Passan.
And I missed it.
Later that morning as I was smiling at the thought of their victory, and a bit remorseful at not having cheered them through it, I think I had a tiny inkling of what the followers of Jesus must have felt three days later, after they had turned off the light of hope and cried themselves to sleep, convinced that the stone covering the tomb was a permanent fixture, wondering why they had spent three years following someone who wasn’t the Victor after all.
They missed it too.
“You had to be here to believe it,” Cardinals manager Tony La Russa said. “We never quit trying. I know that’s kind of corny, but the fact is we never quit trying.”
And said Cardinals general manager John Mozeliak, “Those two [game-saving] at-bats were epic and historic as far as Cardinal lore. No matter what, if we’re down to our last strike, we don’t quit.”
I understand gentlemen; I’ll keep swinging, too.
And most of all, I’ll keep the light on and one eye open until He returns in victory.
I won’t miss that one.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com.
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