December 10, 2006

Sermon delivered 12-10-06 at he Episcopal Church of the Incarnation, Ann Arbor MI


I want to thank Joe, and each of you for the opportunity to preach this morning. Preaching always forces me to examine my life in a way that I am not prone to do amid the stresses of everyday life and work. Preaching forces me to examine my life in the light of the gospel and to look for evidence that I'm living in accordance with what I profess to believe which is that this is not just some random collection of elements, that there is some meaning, some value to this existence beyond itself, that the kingdom of God is both here and now and yet to come in its fulfillment and that life in fact goes on beyond these brief moments we spend together.

I don't claim to live in perfect accord with God's word, anyone who knows me knows that's not the case. I do claim to be intimately acquainted with the compassion and forgiveness of an infinite and loving God. And I know from my own mistakes and miss-steps that redemption is always at hand.

It is difficult to see the world around us and not believe that Jesus is talking about the world today. It is difficult to acknowledge the horrors happening in Iraq, Lebanon, Palestine, Sudan and other places in our world and not be overcome with despair. It is difficult to face the prospect of climate change and not faint with fear and foreboding at what is coming into world. But Jesus tells us that when we see these things we should stand up and raise our heads, because our redemption is at hand.


Jesus says, look at the trees, once they sprout leaves, we know that soon it will be summer. Bob Dylan put it this way, "you don't need a weatherman to know which way to wind blows." When Jesus said, "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and on the earth distress among nations …" I don't think he was talking about future. I think he was saying "wake-up, look around, things have to change." I think Jesus was referring to our natural or unredeemed state, that part of us that is driven by appetites and desires that are unenlightened by compassion or intellect. Jesus was referring to here and now and the illusion that we are separate from the earth and separate from one another.

My great-grandfather fought in the Spanish American war. My grandparents were teenagers during the First World War and a young married couple during the Depression. My father joined the Navy after high school during World War II. I was raised in the shadow of Hiroshima, made my first communion the spring before the Cuban missile crisis and grew up playing Green Berets vs. Viet Kong. And Jesus says when you see these things, take heart because they are signs that the kingdom of God is near.

When I think about these things, my life and the history of my ancestors, it seems like it would be easy to despair and to see life as fleeting and meaningless in the face of such unspeakable and relentless violence, hardship, and threat. But I don't, I remain hopeful, and optimistic. Things can change, things do change, and things will change. I believe that we, and our children, and our children's children can solve the intractable problems that have plagued our species since its inception which are how to live peacefully with one another, the species that share our planet, and the planet itself.

To quote John F. Kennedy, "we hold in our mortal hands the power to end all forms of human poverty, and all forms of human life."


By the time I was 14, through the miracle of television I had witnessed the assassinations of President Kennedy, his brother Bobby and Dr. King. I'd seen Watts, Harlem, and Detroit go up in flames, and watched as police used attack dogs to disburse peaceful demonstrators in Selma, Alabama. And then one day depressed and anxious over what I perceived to be my inevitable failure on a Latin exam that was to come the next day, I did something risky and foolish. I went swimming in a gravel pit with my buddies after school. A gang of us, were diving from the ledges left by the excavation. It got crowded and someone dove in on top of me, so I convinced my buddy Jeff to come with me and explore for new places to dive from. After checking a couple potential spots I chose one I knew to be at the outer limits of my abilities, and a few moments later I was floating face down in the water, completely paralyzed. And Jesus says that the kingdom of God is at hand.

This is the point where I always feel the need to apologize for being a one note Johnny, or as Paul Simon would call it a one trick pony because every time I preach I always seem to talk about my injury and my disability but that is the gospel I have been given but, I know because of that experience, that the kingdom is at hand.

Jesus doesn't promise us a life free from pain or misfortune but Jesus does promise us that if we love one another as we love ourselves we will live in a kingdom where the poor are blessed and the meek shall live in abundance. Jesus promises us that if we believe in redemption, if we believe in miracles, if we believe that he lives and that our lives are joined with his and the creator, and the holy spirit we shall indeed shall see the kingdom of God.

As we enter this time of reflection and renewal we are challenged to consider the world around us with and without the intervention of God. I believe that this world is more than the sum of its parts, a collection of elements. I believe that frail and fallible humans can come together in the ways that it will require for us to save our planet because I believe in an infinite and loving God who has called us each into being. I believe that individually and collectively we have purpose and that the same God who has created us calls us to share in the continuing creation of our world.

So why do I believe these things you may be asking. I believe them because in the weeks and months following my injury my dad and my sister who are here today took turns spending the night beside my bed reading to me, sometimes my sister would get me to sing and we would sing together. I believe that an infinite and loving God is present among us today because not once has my father ever mentioned the emotional or financial devastation my poor judgment caused. My mother had the day shift and put her career as a painter and teacher on hold, first to be by my bedside and then to become for many years my primary caregiver. She would tell me that God had some purpose in mind for me.

And it wasn't just family who made the kingdom reality and my life. It was Al Oliver, the orderly on midnight shift. Al, one of the kindest and gentlest people I've ever known was just back from Vietnam. He would save his lunch and breaks and take them at 4 AM when my father would need to head home for a quick nap before showering and heading to work. Al said that he remembered standing guard in the wee hours of the morning and how lonely and scared he felt. He would pull up a chair and sit by the head of my bed, sometimes we would talk, usually just knowing he was there was all I needed to get back to sleep.

And there was Jim, the college kid in the bed next to me who befriended me. For the next couple years Jim would show up periodically with a bag of burgers or tacos, transfer me into his car, throw my wheelchair in the trunk and take me to free concerts in East Lansing.

And there was Bob, the factory worker who spent the summer in the bed across the room from me and became part of our family. Bob financed countless pizzas and orchestrated more trips to the drive in movie for my friends and I then I can remember.

There was a World War II veteran who'd seen some of the bloodiest fighting in Italy who spent a week in a bed across the room. I don't recall his name but he took the time to send me a letter after he was discharged to tell me that he thought I had a lot of intestinal fortitude. At 14 I had to ask what that meant and swelled with pride when it was explained to me.

We don't have time for me to even begin to recount all of the affirmation I have received as a result of my injury and disability. My point is that was those experiences of support and affirmation have convinced me that the kingdom is here now and yet to come in its fulfillment.

Physicists tell us that nothing exists that was not intended. Or in the words of my son Trevor, "it's all good." We only think that we are separate from God. We only think that we are separate from one another. The miracle of the loaves and fishes, is not that Jesus was some sort of magician like David Copperfield or Chris Angel who magically made bread and fish appear. The miracle of the loaves and fishes is that Jesus inspired a crowd of people most of whom lived with constant hunger to share what little they had and in that sharing experience the abundance of the kingdom.

Dr. Depak Chopra tells us that our consciousness is not the result of our biology but the other way around. Our biology is a result of our consciousness. A consciousness that we share with Jesus, the Creator, and the Holy Spirit. Everything is as intended for our redemption. And when we share the consciousness of Jesus we are redeemed and become instruments of redemption for those around us. When we share the consciousness of Jesus we share the humility of the Creator become incarnate to share in the experience of the created. And when we share that intention, that desire to affirm those around us as Jesus did we create the kingdom.

November 25, 2006

Desiderata for the New Millennium

Keep your head up, pay attention to your entire field of vision,
and never carry a weapon you're not prepared to use.
Don't attract attention. Blend in, but be yourself,
because ultimately it's all you've got.
Choose wisely, attachment breeds suffering
but without it, life is meaningless.
Suffer fools gladly, avoid confrontation,
and always be prepared to die.
Any moment could be your last.
Nothing really matters but every move counts,
so act like you know what you're doing
and maybe it will help.

October 14, 2006

The State of Diversity Address

It seems like it's been about a year since Bryan set this up for me. Thank you Bryan! All I had was/is the concept: anordinarymystic. I live in an existential universe. Anyhow, it's been a great gift. I'm still unwrapping it and finding my way into it. It's been a place to reveal myself and explore my thoughts. For a while I wandered around the abyss looking for meaning and leaving a trail of words, until they collapsed under their own weight and became indistinguishable from the chaos around them. The experience has taught me that diversity is an essential condition of life.

One great thing about this medium is that it is an undefined reality, a digital frontier that both emerges and recedes with each bit of data. It is a quantum reality where cause does not necessarily precede effect and explanations are not necessarily linear. I know from exerting myself upon the ether, insinuating myself into the Internet, that reality is by nature diverse and that realities that are less diverse, are less likely to sustain life as abundantly as more diverse realities. In other words, I believe that diversity functions as a measure of an environment's ability to sustain itself.

Therefore, this being the arbitrary anniversary of anordinarymystic.com, it seems only fitting to offer the following State of Diversity Address. And the state of diversity from this perspective is hostage.

Diversity is hostage to the politics of identity, the politics of color, the politics of gender, the politics of ability, the politics of age. Diversity is drawn and quartered daily by an unruly mob of past injustices, of wounds and hurts so painful and so private that we cannot look at the man behind the curtain with his hand up our skirts, down our pants, on our backs, picking our pockets, stealing our dreams with candied celebrations, trinkets and baubles, brighter shiner newer, prettier glorifications of the examples we make exceptions when we hold them out for hope. But color is not cash, and race is not reparations. We are not race, we are not gender, we are not ability or age, we are, we the people, all the people, all the time and only those labels when we offer or accept anything less.

October 09, 2006

Love scares me

This can only end badly

I am the groove man,
known by my absence,
my spaces tracing
the contour of your soul
exciting your vibrations,
liberating your music.
I am an existential ghoul
licking the wounds of your life,
sucking the pain from your breast
your nipples hard red angry sore from a thousand wants.
We fumble around the spaces
pretending not to notice the cracked facades,
broken promises and dreams disappearing
over the hill with someone who might not be back.

June 20, 2006

More simple pleasures

I was thinking about my previous simple pleasures post back on April 30 while I was in the shower this morning. Something about water. The beach is my natural habitat. The properties of water to heal and purify. All lead to more thoughts of simple pleasures.

Ancient voices by the Paul Winter Consort was playing and I thought of my friend J. J. We met at Michigan State during fall semester 1982, when he volunteered to be my personal assistant for the weekend in order to make it possible for me to attend a weekend religious retreat being sponsored by St. John's Student Parish in East Lansing.

I have the utmost respect for people who work as personal assistants (PA's) and do it well combining care and compassion with grace and humor. It's a job I can't imagine myself doing. I especially can't imagine myself volunteering to assist someone with their elimination processes.

Over the weekend Jage and I, that's what I call him, became best friends. I was 28 and still living at home and had shared with him that I was trying to figure out how to get out on my own and become independent. He suggested we move in together as suite mates in the Graduate Center and offered to work as my personal assistant.

It was a huge move. I was scared and confused most of the time for the first few weeks and Jage felt obligated to to spend pretty much every hour he wasn't in class, working, or asleep with me or nearby. Very early on the need to rely on more than one person became evident and Jim helped me train the first few additional PA's I hired. That was his final semester as a full-time graduate student and we moved from managing the tricky business of being both friends and employer/employee to being lifelong best friends.

The next year was a tough one for both of us. Jage's first full-time professional gig postgraduate school wasn't going well nor was his relationship with his fiancee. I was working as a graduate advisor in Wilson Hall for 1200 predominantly sophomores and juniors and my mother was dying of cancer. One afternoon after I had been on-call the night before and had not slept Jage came by. He gave me a copy of Ancient Voices and we played it on my new Sony linear tracking turntable. He noticed that I hadn't had an opportunity to get my hair washed that morning, I don't remember if my personal assistant had not shown up or if I just skipped it that morning out of fatigue or depression. Out of nowhere he asked if I would like my hair washed and offered to assist me.

This morning as Gary washed my hair and I listened to Paul Winter that moment came back to me and I felt as blessed as I did that day in Wilson Hall.

June 11, 2006

A Self

A self

a place to be
each moment
of every step

born from labor and separation
banished when first we leave our father's loins
expelled from our mother's wombs we dwell alone

experience only ours
each moment a star
glistening in the existential universe
where we dwell like gods creating our existence

weaving the space time cloth
which clothes the unfathomable nothingness
from whence we come and go
eternity after eternity
in a celebratory procession
of our selves to perfection

© Copyright 2002 Don Anderson (UN: ordinarymystic at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Don Anderson has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

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June 02, 2006

My best James Dean

If I knew where I was going, I could figure out how to get there,
but I'm just passing through, so it really doesn't matter.
If anyone should ask, please say you saw me,
but if you're the only one who remembers,
that's OK too. I'll probably forget.

We all have to protect ourselves.
I was an Armadillo once, but that got boring,
so now I pretend that I don't really care.
Not that I do, do wah, do wah do wah ditty,
talk about the girl from New York City.
What shall we do next?
It's your turn to sit under the Apple,
and I'll shoot the arrow.

© Copyright 2002 Don Anderson (UN: ordinarymystic at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Don Anderson has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.