Sum

Here's the book I'm reading. I heard the author speak on a Tulsa NPR station and thought it sounded good. It is 40 vignettes on the afterlife that are off the wall, but also probing. The book fits in one hand pretty well--Lara and I both read it while we feed Julianna. It earns a thumbs up from me so far-the dust jacket says the afterlife scenarios are "never previously thought of," but I know I've daydreamed about a couple of them. Perhaps they're something in the collective unconscious. Am I dwelling on the afterlife? It first came to mind when I tried to think of a good question for the Transforming Theology Conference (a few days ago). I also wrote this little bit in my journal.

Almost Four.

When she returned at fifteen minutes till midnight, we sat on the couch with her legs resting on mine—me finding it hard to take my eyes off my little girl—she told me that my father had told her that he remembered his mother. His mother had died when he was three and a half years old. His older sister was five, and their two older brothers were already in their 20s and married.
I had never given my grandmother’s death much thought as an actual event. It was more of a circumstance. My grandmother had died when my dad was almost four and my dad’s dad had died when I was almost four.
The circumstance became more of a event in time for me when my wife mentioned that my dad told her that he remembered his mother’s death. He and his five year old sister were at home alone with her when she had the stroke that killed her. He said that they had just finished eating cherry pie, and for the longest time my dad and his sister thought that if you ate cherry pie you would die.
Hearing this was odd to me. I had never heard this before. Furthermore, just that weekend, while Lara and Julianna were away and Wesley and I were home alone together, I had the terrible daydream that I died while Wesley and I were home alone with each other with Lara away. What would my child do? Would he try to wake me? Would he panic? Would he try to find my cellphone and start punching buttons? My son is almost four. He is now as old as my father was when his mother died. He is now as old as I was when my father’s father died.

Perhaps Lent has really soaked into my bones this year.

My Dad and the Grapette bottle

This appeared this morning in the "Paper Trails" section of the Arkansas Democrat Gazette.

Pastor gives a message in a bottle


LINDA CAILLOUET

THROUGH TIME AND SPACE:

Until last week, the empty vintage Grapette bottle rested on a shelf in Rev. Michael Mattox ’s office.
The pastor of First United Methodist Church in Little Rock , known for his quirky collectibles, was given the bottle in the early 1990s by a member of his congregation, then in Arkadelphia. When he became district superintendent and moved to Little Rock , he packed up and brought the bottle. Later, when he became pastor of First United Methodist, he again packed and moved it.
Then he learned that Billy Parker, the man whose funeral he was to preside over last Saturday in Rison, had on many days in his youth bought nickel bottles of Grapette and bags of peanuts for his high school crush Estelle, who eventually became his wife of 51 years. That’s when Mattox knew why he had the bottle and what he needed to do with it.
“It kept staring at me,” the pastor tells Paper Trails. “I thought, ‘It was a gift to me, and I need to make it a gift to Estelle.’”
He took the bottle from the shelf and filled it with water and daffodils he’d plucked from his backyard. During his sermon, the pastor shared the couple’s Grapette story and placed the flower-filled bottle amid the grand arrangements flanking the casket.
Call it a revelation. Or a reassuring message from the departed to loved ones left behind. Or a God moment.
Just not a coincidence. The date on the bottle? 1946 — the first of the four years during which Billy and Estelle shared the drink at a local store during recess breaks.

Bella

Gordon Atkinson's (Real Live Preacher) contribution to the Christian Century was especially profound this time. It reminded me of Marjorie Suchocki's adaptation of Process theology and (what was it?) relational eternal life? Anyway, Gordon shares a story and a hope that our stories will last, somehow. Read it!

Parallel Lives

Not that I am not happy with the life I am currently living, because I have always felt like I am walking down yellow brick road and will one day meet the Wizard with this current life that I am leading (or in minister speak, I feel I am leading the life to which I am called).....but sometimes I read something or see something that stirs in me a deep hope that reincarnation is the way things work out, because I think it would be so fun to be and do so many different things. More things than one life allows time for. (especially considering we're not promised tomorrow!) Today it was an email newsletter from Ring Lake Ranch.

Here's a list of some parallel lives I'd like to lead. If this looks like a meme to you, go'n ahead and consider yourself tagged and track back because I'd be interested to see what kind of things you'd like to do too.

1. Suppose I'll start with the life I almost led if it hadn't been for the call into ministry: I would have attended either UNC or UVA for a post graduate degree (or perhaps both) and gotten a Ph.D in Buddhism (Tibetan, though Zen is what I have learned most about from my undergrad prof. McDaniel--b/c I think I remember there being a big pro in the field at UVA) or American Religion if at UNC--just like another of my prof's, Dr. Jane Harris. Then, of course, I would have been employed at Hendrix College. One of my friends from college, Brad, actually did get his post-grad degree in Tibetan Buddhism at U of Chicago and studied in Tibet as well. I saw him at a friend's wedding in South Carolina a year ago, and he seemed very happy with his life (though he seemed somewhat disenchanted with being in school for so long.) I think he was going to go work in a museum. That sounds good.

2. If I'd followed my high school dreams for life, I'd have gone into the field of archaeology or perhaps paleontology. I just had a fantasy the other day that I had pursued this goal and had made my mark on the field by developing a computerized "virtual catalogue" of footprints and bones that could be used to connect missing links.

3. It would be great to work at Ring Lake Ranch mixing the design of workshops on spirituality with the care of horses, fishing, the mountains, hiking, etc.

4. I study architecture and apprentice myself to Frank Gehry or Fay Jones. I love organic architecture.

5. I would be an illuminator for the St. John's Bible.

6. I would be a journalist.

7. I would be a commentator for the Arkansas Razorbacks football team.

8. I would be my cat, Lao-Tzu. (At the moment, she seems quite interested in my coffee)

9. I would be a competitive scrabble tournament geek.

10. I suppose I could have continued on as the program coordinator at Occidental College Office of Religious and Spiritual Life. I had a great boss/collaborator, and it was a fantastic thing to encourage the spiritual development of intelligent college kids at America's most diverse college. It was also cool to have a huge grant to work with.

11. I would be a parrot-head, surf all day, and live on Na pali Coast.

There's more, but now that I've gotten that out of my system, time to get on the sermon.

Hmmm. I get to plumb the depths of sacred writings and weave that together with life and lives in order to inspire some words that I stand up and give to a congregation of people who consider that something that is part of the worship of God. I get to break bread and lift up a cup of juice and acknowledge the real presence of Christ in those things, and then I get to place that bread in people's hands with the words "brother/sister, the bread of life." Even though I'm not worthy of the comparison, I get to represent Christ to people who are about to die, about to give birth, and about to awaken. I get to cultivate an awareness of the undercurrents of Reality for a living.

This life is pretty cool, too.

Okay, now I'm ready to write a sermon.

City of Dated Angels

Tonight Lara and I finished watching City of Angels. We kept noticing things that dated the movie. (i.e. "Oh my God, look at Meg Ryan's glasses!" "Look at that Pepsi can!" Sarah McGlaughlin and Alanis Morrisette?!) Then it hit us--the movie has been out since we started dating. A movie that came out when Lara and I started dating (10 years ago) is now dated to our eyes. The laughter died down in the Mattox den.

The Ego has Landed

There aren't so many things as humbling as busting your ass in front of a bunch of teenagers.
This happened to me today: I was shooting hoops out behind the church and one of the balls flew over the chained link fence. When playing with Wesley the week before, I had simply lept the fence instead of walking all the way around. So, of course I think nothing about going for it again. Except this time, I didn't raise my feet high enough, and one of my shoes caught the top of the fence--which caused my upper torso to go flying toward the ground where my feet were supposed to be. I hit with a thud and a "uuugh" (which was the wind going out from my lungs) It didn't hurt, but still, it looked really stupid. I noticed one of the girls looking at another teenager like they really wanted to laugh, but didn't know if it was okay. So I started laughing, and then we all had a good laugh. I made a joke about "my ups" the next time I went up for a shot, and that got a few laughs too. Now the only thing is, my wrist really hurts.
The whole scenario got me thinking of embarassment. It has been a while since I've been embarassed. On the other hand, I don't really feel that embarassed. I more feel sorry for them because now they're probably going to think of me flopping over the fence when they see me, and that must be a hard thing to square with someone you should respect and admire. (I am their pastor, after all). In other words, I'll get over it and probably not remember it in a month or two, but can they ever again relate to me as a pastor without cringing in that embarassed for me, "wanting to laugh but not sure I should" memory?
Perhaps the ego hasn't landed quite yet in my case--They probably don't occupy much of their time or mental energy thinking about me anyway, I suppose. Of course, I do kind of get up and speak for 15 minutes in front of them every week. Of course, they are usually more concerned wiht their text messages than me anyway. Hmmmmm....Does this make sense? I took a pain pill because of my wrist!
Happy trails!