Fine Prints: December, 2005

Things Aren't Always What They Seem--2  December 3

"I Have Given You an Example . . ."  December 10 

Tortured Consciences?  December 17  

Some of the People, Some of the Time  December 3

Melting Pot or Tossed Salad December 31     

Things Aren't Always What They Seem--2

In last week’s Fine Print I told about my great-grandmother’s parrot-training exploits and the fire started by a pyromaniac parrot named Pete. Pete wasn’t to have taken center stage in the story—I just got carried away. So now let’s go back for "the rest of the story" and my original purpose for writing.

I don’t know if parrots are just copy cats—copy birds?—or whether they actually have some understanding of the sounds they mimic. But understood or not, my great-grandmother’s birds graduated with a substantial verbal repertoire, including the ability to sing the hymn "Beulah Land" (page 554 in the old Church Hymnal , just in case you’re wondering).

These were expensive, exotic birds, and she spent hour after hour after hour coaching them. She had a variety of rewards when they performed positively—not to mention a gentle rap on the beak with a table knife when they became uncooperative. It was serious business.

All those hours spent talking to the birds meant that they spoke English with a "Liz Phillips" accent—in much the same way that people today pick up the accent of those they listen to most during their linguistically formative years. The birds’ word pronunciation and vocal inflection were a near-perfect reproduction of their teacher’s.

I doubt that the birds understood what they were saying, but they did respond to certain triggers. If you asked how they were, they responded, as polite and positive birds, that they were fine. And there were several other questions that equally evoked appropriate responses.

As fate would have it, my great-grandmother went out one day and locked the door behind her. And wouldn’t you know that a new neighbor stopped by for a visit. Stepping onto the porch, she knocked on the door. "Liz Phillips’ voice" called out, "Just come on in."

In the Midwest of that era, it was a rarity even to lock a door. And routinely people were invited to usher themselves into a neighbor’s home. But Liz Phillips had high-priced birds to safeguard. And the parrot in question had no doubt heard her respond to many a knock on the door with a hearty invitation to "just come on in."

The only problem was that the door was locked. When the neighbor called out to explain the situation, the bird simply repeated its earlier invitation to "just come on in."

Three or four times the new neighbor explained that the door was locked, her voice and blood pressure rising with each repetition. But each time "Liz Phillips’ voice" responded with an invitation to do the impossible—"Just come on in."

Angry beyond measure, the neighbor stormed off to another neighbor’s house—where she vented her feelings about that "rude Mrs. Phillips." When she told why she thought Mrs. Phillips so rude, the neighbor had a good chuckle—because she too had been invited to "just come on in" even though the door was locked.

The words were right. The voice was right. The inflection was right. Everything seemed to lead to one inescapable conclusion. But sometimes—probably more often than we’d believe possible—things aren’t quite what they seem.

It’s a truth well worth remembering.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

"I Have Given You an Example . . ." 

When on the Friday night after Thanksgiving our congregation celebrated communion, the ritual footwashing (described in John 13) came after rather than before the bread and grape juice. Why? To highlight a different aspect of the ritual’s symbolism.

In Christ’s day, the most common form of transportation was walking. Sandals, though allowing good ventilation, also contributed to grime. So gracious hosts usually had a servant bathe away the sweat and dust from their visitors’ feet. It was a rejuvenating experience for the guest but a less-than-pleasant task for the servant.

When Christ’s disciples prepared for the Passover, they somehow failed to arrange for a servant, though the water, a basin and a towel seem to have been present.

Customarily, the footwashing would have been done as the guests arrived. But the disciples, all of whom were dreaming of the high position they would occupy when Jesus established His kingdom, weren’t about to sacrifice their dignity by playing servant.

So Jesus waited. And waited. In fact, it seems that He may have waited throughout the entire meal, for the Bible says, "And supper being ended . . ." (John 13:2, KJV) He rose and began to wash the disciples’ feet.

Typically, we view the footwashing as a mini-baptism that symbolically cleanses the sinner and prepares him or her to symbolically partake of Christ’s body and blood. That symbolism is certainly important.

But if I understand the story correctly, all of Christ’s disciples were invited to participate in that first communion as they were, without any prior cleanup. Unclean sinners were invited to the table of grace despite their uncleanness (in much the same way that the father of the prodigal called for a robe to be thrown over his son’s shoulders before the wayward son had time to take a bath). Then, after the disciples had received His grace, Christ gave an example of how grace-endued people should act.

He said: "If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done" (John 13:14, 15, KJV).

In adjusting the sequence, we sought to highlight the fact that we come to Christ as we are. The only prerequisite is our great need. But when we receive Christ’s grace, our "attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, . . ." (Philippians 2: 5-7, NIV).

Having the footwashing before communion appropriately highlights our need for cleansing. The focus is primarily on the one whose feet are being washed. Having the footwashing after communion highlights the need for the recipients of Christ’s grace to be willing to do whatever is necessary to share that grace with their fellow humans. The focus is primarily on the ones doing the washing. Symbolically, it is the first human act of grace in response to the divine act of grace that communion celebrates.

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Tortured Consciences? 

Our nation’s senators have made it clear that they don’t like the slippery slope down which we seem to be heading with respect to the torture of suspected terrorists. So they’ve overwhelmingly passed a bill that would ban such behavior by U.S. entities.

Not everyone is happy about this congressionally mandated chivalry. At the very least, some maintain, the CIA should be granted latitude in extracting information. What if a nuclear time bomb is ticking? Wouldn’t it be better to torture a suspect than to allow innocents to be killed?

Good question.

In fact, the whole specter of torture raises a lot of good questions. . .

* How many lives would have to be at risk before the torture option should be pursued? A million? Ten thousand? One hundred? One?

* How bad does the terrorist act have to be before torture would be acceptable? Would a terrorist plot to rob a bank to get needed funding justify torture? What about a plot to plunder Fort Knox?

* How much proof of guilt would be required before torture would be justified? Is a presumption of guilt rather than of innocence acceptable when terrorist suspects are involved?

* What limits should there be on torture, both in terms of duration and intensity? What checks would be in place to ensure that torture isn’t carried to "extremes"—particularly if it’s being done in secret camps known only to the CIA?

*Why should the CIA alone be granted a legal exception? If local police officers come across a ticking nuclear time bomb, shouldn’t they be allowed to do whatever is necessary to forestall imminent catastrophe?

* Is torture reserved only for foreign terrorists? Or could it be used on domestic criminals—say, drug dealers, whose acts also wreak havoc? Could we torture a kidnapper who’s holding a hostage for ransom?

* If torture is acceptable against terrorists, would it also be acceptable against enemy soldiers who’ve set a nuclear time bomb in a declared war? What about the Geneva Conventions? Were they actually a mistake? The product of a naive era?

* If extreme circumstances justify torture of foreign terrorists by the CIA, would we as Americans concede that extreme circumstances might justify torture of Americans by foreign entities—say, if the American held by a foreign power is a member of U.S. special forces sent to destabilized that country’s government? Or is torture of Americans by other governments always wrong, no matter what the circumstances?

* What impact would the knowledge that our nation is prepared to torture have on our military’s modus operandi? On our national self-image? On our nation’s international image? Is there a point at which the Pandora’s Box opened by an admitted willingness to torture dramatically outweighs the benefits gained from the torture?

* Is there real danger that in our efforts to preserve freedom we could become a mirrored reflection of those who seek to destroy it?

* What would the world’s greatest philosophers and spiritual leaders say about torture—even of suspected terrorists? What would Jesus say?

* To what extent do the followers of Jesus have an obligation to wrestle with and speak out concerning such moral/ethical issues?

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Some of the People, Some of the Time 

Two stories. The first one long ago and far away. In fantasy land, actually. The second one much closer in both time and space. Right here, actually.

As the first story goes, a Mexican farmer and his pre-teen son were going to market, leading their burro. Before they’d gone far, they heard people commenting: "How absurd to have a pack animal and not ride it!" So the farmer set his son on the burro’s back. Indeed, why exert energy when the animal could do it instead?

Scarcely had the boy been seated than he and his father heard people commenting again: "How inconsiderate for a strong, young lad to be riding while his father walks!" So the boy got off and let his father ride.

But the comments continued. This time people condemned the father. Had he decided to ride just because he was older and stronger and bigger? "It’s so selfish!" people murmured. And maybe it was.

So the farmer hoisted his son onto the burro’s back, and both rode. However, the burro was so small that people really began to talk this time: "What cruelty for two people to ride on the back of an animal so small. They should be carrying the burro!" people exclaimed.

The second story, which is much closer to home, began years ago. Early in life I discovered that conservative Adventists have a range of qualms about Christmas. For example, we never had a Christmas tree (or a "holiday tree," for that matter!) in our home when I was a child. Christmas trees were pagan.

But reservations about the yuletide season extended far beyond my own home. When I was in Australia, for example, I discovered that many Adventists had major problems with the expression "Merry Christmas"–because rarely is the word "merry" used in a context not denoting alcohol consumption. And since Adventists are tee-totalers, "Happy Christmas" was the preferred greeting. But if you say "Happy Christmas," what do you say about New Year’s?

I discovered that other Adventists had reservations about the very name of the holiday–because only Catholics celebrate "mass." So how could Adventists use such a compound word as Christ-mass?

As an editor for the church, I wanted to ruffle as few feathers as possible, so I began using the expression "Have a happy holiday season and a blessed new year." And it worked. Nobody growled. I’d found the happy medium. Eureka!

Last week I sent my annual letter about our congregation’s finances to members and attenders at Markham Woods Church. I concluded it (as I’ve done for years) with "Have a happy holiday season and a blessed year" in 2006. But I recognize that I may be in deep trouble. Because in the larger society right now, the use or non-use of the term "Merry Christmas" has become the litmus test of Christian orthodoxy and commitment.

Can you believe it? For all these years I’ve tried to keep people happy–and the very steps I’ve so meticulously taken may now come back to bite me. Aren’t humans interesting?!

By the way, could someone check to see if perhaps the weight I feel pressing on my back is a burro?

Jim Coffin, Senior Pastor

Melting Pot or Tossed Salad 

[The following is excerpted from the Shabbat Letter sent by Rabbi Rick Sherwin and his wife, Elissa, to the members of Congregation Beth Am.]

A reporter from Channel 2 News wanted to know how I felt about calling the Christmas Tree a Holiday Tree. I responded that, while I appreciate people in stores wishing me "Happy Holidays," I believe that a religious symbol must retain its identity. The tree is definitely a symbol of a major Christian holiday: It is a Christmas Tree.

The reporter was not surprised to hear that I favored retaining the Christian designation. His feeling was that committed Jews would not want a Hanuka Menora to be referred to as a Holiday Candelabrum!

The debate about trees reflects far more than the interpretation of a symbol. It is about respecting each other for our uniqueness. While Christmas is not my holiday, it would be disrespectful for me to strip the tree of its significance to suit my – or even worse – communal purposes.

In the late 1800s and in the early 1900s, as European immigrants poured into American ports, Israel Zangwill, a Jew from England, authored a play entitled The Melting Pot. Unfortunately, many people have taken the phrase "melting pot" out of Zangwill’s context, interpreting it as a call for all cultures to blend together into one, homogenous approach to life.

America is not a melting pot where everything – and everyone – becomes one: it is a tossed salad! Each culture, each religious heritage, has a distinct taste and color to offer. Without the diversity, the salad is no longer beautiful; without the distinctness of the different vegetables, the taste would not be unique.

Maintaining the freshness of a salad is more difficult than allowing the vegetables to stew together. It takes work to decide what areas are to blend and where differing opinions must coexist: what infringes on another’s rights and what constitutes freedom of expression. We must all step back and look at society as a whole, making the conscious decision to promote respect and understanding. The irony is that diversity strengthens the whole.

Ben Zoma, a sage who lived at the beginning of the second century, once saw a large crowd standing on the steps of the Great Temple in Jerusalem. Overwhelmed by what he saw, he recited a prayer of praise to God (B’rakhot 58b): You created so many people, no two of which have identical faces or identical ideas. Each one plays a unique role in serving the world.

He then expressed appreciation to everyone whose efforts produce bread: those who furrow the ground, sew the seeds, tend the crops, harvest the wheat, separate the kernels from the chaff, mill the kernels into flour, and bake the flour into bread. Without the distinct abilities of so many people, we would not be able to feed ourselves, let alone the world.

Diversity is a blessing in itself, one that calls for each of us to respect each other for who we are and for the talents we offer. Whether we agree with each other or not, each of us – as individuals and as communities – plays a unique role in making the world better for everyone