I was never
more surprised than when I learned that the name of a nearby
street was Winne. I don't often bring this up but since there
is a street here …, my middle name is Winne. Whenever my name
is leaked out I always have to explain that it's Winne not Winifred;
it's Winne with one 'i' but you'd understand that having a street
by that name. Winne is the family surname of my grandmother.
I can't help wonder if my Winne's are related in some way to
the Winne of the Delmar street. My grandmother's family settlement
was not far from here in the Berne/Altamont area. They were
a big family of farmers. My grandmother had no more than a formal
seventh grade education; that was back when folks continued
to read and educate themselves once they were no longer able
to attend school. My grandmother might have been considered
a country bumpkin who met a dashing young GE man (at least that's
the way he described it) who knew at first sight this woman
was going to be his wife. This was right about the time he decided
he was leaving GE and was taking off on an adventure and going
south - to the Panama Canal Zone. My grandfather proposed to
my grandmother; he invited her to follow him to Panama on a
subsequent ship and they would then be wed in Panama. I can't
help thinking how courageous this young woman was - 17 years
old, living on a farm, hadn't seen much of the world. I can't
help thinking of the trust - or darn right foolhardiness - she
must have had in taking this young man's promise as good as
gold. I can't help wondering that she must have held a great
vision of life before her as she packed, left her family, traveled
to an unknown country, to live with strangers. What did this
starry eyed 17 year old hold onto as she journeyed southward
on a slow ship to Central America. My grandparents ended up
living in Panama more than 18 years; they experienced breathtaking
experiences in the wilderness; dressed in their Sunday best
and sitting in their backyard, they listened to the Saturday
afternoon opera that came over the radio from the US; they raised
a family on the canal zone before they migrated back north to
Florida and then New York again. Perhaps you have family stories
of adventure, travel, and vision.
I am reminded of my grandmother's
vision and the journey she dared to venture forth on as we hear
of Moses who stands on the edge of the Promised Land looking
out from Mount Nebo. It seems as if it has been a life time
getting this people called the Hebrews to this place. Through
God's intervention, Moses was given a vision of a new life and
at last he stands ready to live into that vision. He looks out
and surveys the land of milk and honey; a fertile land that
will provide all that is needed for God's people. Carter and
I had a chance to look out from Mount Nebo at the sight Moses
might have viewed. Our trip was much shorter in duration. We
had landed in Amman, Jordan the day before and were still feeling
the jet lag that misty, morning. Tried as I might, looking out
toward Israel, toward Jericho we were told - at a time in recent
history when Jordan didn't accept the existence of Israel -
it was difficult to see the vision Moses envisioned. Our text
says that Moses was shown the entire Promised Land. Gilead as
far as Dan, Naphtali, the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and
Judah, as far as the Western Sea. It was laid out before him.
Clearly, Moses held onto that God-given vision of new life for
the Hebrews.
If we fast forward in time a bit, we hear Jesus
speak in the Gospel of Matthew to the question of what is the
greatest Commandment. "You shall love the Lord your God with
your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This
is the first and greatest. And the second is like it: You shall
love your neighbor as yourself." Rather than a Promised Land
viewed from Mt Nebo, I believe our looking to a vision for living
into the future is wrapped up in this Great Commandment.
As I read about the readings for today, one commentator suggested
not looking at/to not consider the Great Commandment. He suggested
that he had the first part - loving God pretty well under control
but it was the second one that caused great difficulty. So in
order to not be hypocritical, he thought it would be better
to skip over it. Well, saying no to something has me automatically
challenge the assumption. Our failure to live out a commandment,
a vision is not reason enough to skip over it. Rather, our inability
may be a call to consider it more carefully. It may be a call
to remember we're on a journey of learning. I suggest that we
live into the commandment, that is, we attempt
to live out the commandment. We can lean toward
loving God, loving our neighbor.
Let me explain. I believe we often tend to be too satisfied
with where we have God placed in our heart. We think we do a
pretty good job and then we get out of bed in the morning knowing
we will be dealing with another human being. It's a nice thought
to love one's neighbor but what does it actually mean? If I
loved you as myself, I would…. How would we finish that for
our spouse or partner, one of our children, a parent, a colleague,
a classmate, the person who complained about…., or the one who
spilled coffee on the newly finished report? How would we finish,
if I loved you as myself, …. Would it change if we met an enemy,
a competitor, a foreigner?
We have choices each day, each moment.
How do we make the decision to go in one direction rather than
another? Do we even conger up 'Love your neighbor as yourself?'
or Love God with your entire being? Maybe an alarm could go
off reminding us to keep that vision ever before us?
My second
grandmother, my mother's mother, came from a very different
set of circumstances. She also was from New York but near the
city downstate. She was well-educated for a woman in that time
of history; she was college educated. She married a Southern
Baptist, engineer; they settled in Maplewood, New Jersey. She
was a radio commentator. She was considered American enough
to be asked to be a member of the DAR - Daughters of the American
Revolution. It would have been natural enough for her to say
yes, of course; but she made her choice and said thanks, but
no. She refused the invitation because, Marion Anderson, at
the urging of the DAR, was refused the ability to sing on a
stage in New York City. My grandmother made a choice and took
a stand to love her neighbor as herself. I hold her up because
I wonder if I would have remembered to take a stand and love
my neighbor as she did.
In the current issue of Weavings, there's a wonderful
article by Mark Burrows entitled The Hardest Love We Carry.
The whole issue's theme is on lonely places; Mark begins his
piece with a stanza of poetry: 'All winter the blue heron
slept among the horses. I don't know the customs of herons,
do not know if the solitary habit is their way, or if he listened
for the missing one - not knowing even that was what he did
- in the blowing sounds of the dark.' Mark speaks of
grief and loneliness; he questions how we attribute human attitudes
to animal observation and yet he recognizes a possible connection.
He speaks of how grief is worked through underneath even though
it may not be evident on the surface of our words spoken. When
one's own speech fails, poems/images may speak. The superficial
words only allude to what may be intended beneath the actual
words put into rhyme.
In his article, Mark makes
reference to a difficult winter in his first ministry assignment.
He describes a parishioner whose husband is moving through stages
of Alzheimer's disease. The disease imposes progressive isolation
not only for those who bear the disease but also for those who
care for the other as she becomes bound to a watchful presence.
She watches: a witness to the disappearance of the other even
while that one remains in the midst of those who care. Unlike
the heron of the poem listening for the missing one, her spouse
was present yet strangely gone. There were sacred moments still
- fleeting - of recognition exchanged.
How can one mourn one
who is still living but no longer present? Where is the other?
What does it mean to be human, to be oneself? Alzheimer's brings
all these questions to the surface for us and more.
In making
the choice, in the caring, in loving another, in the search
of making a connection of recognition, in stumbling upon a remembered
phrase, perhaps finally, we can say, in the loving of one's
neighbor as oneself- what is shared between us is the safeguarding
of that little piece of God in the other. If God dwells in each
of us, and I do believe that is so, then in loving the other,
we love God. I think this is true as we reach out to one another
whether or not the other has dementia. We safeguard that little
piece of God in the other.
I offer one more example of possibility
of how we might remember to love our neighbor as our self. I
have spoken on mission before and my hope that we will continue
to the many ways of outreach the church is involved in - through
UMCOR, Heifer Project, AUMS, furniture program. We heard the
long litany Karen offered last week. During this last week I
heard another speak of another approach to mission and ministry
and loving our neighbor. He suggested that we might be in partnership
with another church in the area. I understand there was an initial
step taken. But I wonder if we might form some bonds with another
church in or around Albany. Could we sing with them? Could we
partner with them in a mission project? Could we be involved
with Habitat for Humanity with a partner church? Could we sit
down in fellowship and have a meal with one another? Could we
worship with one another? Could we learn to love one another?
Talk to me about it. Let's dream. Let's put something together.
Let's love our neighbor. Let's safe guard that piece of God
in the other.
I wonder if when Moses looked out over the Promised
Land if he saw more than milk and honey and grapes and fertile
ground: I wonder if he saw a vision of how life might be lived
more fully. I wonder if you can see that vision, if you can
hear Jesus invitation to envision life wholly. I wonder if we
might take time before the start of each day imagining how our
lives might be lived more fully. I wonder how that simple act
might change our day, our lives.
Go now - lean into it - love God and love your neighbor
as much as you do yourself.
