Chaplain's Column --28 Oct 2022

From the Frowning Tradition

 

In 2009, I was the senior chaplain responsible for Sunday worship services at the Air Force Field Hospital in Balad, Iraq.

 

One Sunday, a few hours before our 10 a.m. service, I watched my sleepwalking, still jet-lagged, chaplain assistant, Sgt. Peoples, fuss with the chapel arrangements as if preparing for a visiting pope.

 

He'd adorned the altar with properly colored cloths and arranged the folding chairs, loading them with Bibles.

 

Pouring the communion cups was his last job.

 

"How many cups should I prepare, Sir?"

 

"Twenty-five."

 

"Really?" he said.

 

"I need you to fill 20 cups with purple grape juice but set aside five cups with white wine in the center of the communion tray."

 

We'd seen less than 15 congregants on the previous two Sundays, and I suppose he didn't want me having any illusions of grandeur.

 

"Where's your faith, Sergeant?"

 

"Don't that kinda go against General Order No. 1?" He accented his question with a chuckle, but he knew the order prohibiting alcohol in a war zone made allowances for religious services.

 

"We are out of white wine," he told me. "Is it ok to grab some rosé from the priest?"

 

I said OK.

 

The combo of wine and juice on the tray is a chaplain practice that helps accommodate congregants ranging from teetotaling Southern Baptists to stein-grabbing Lutherans. 

 

A few minutes later, Peoples had filled thimble-sized cups as instructed. He then lit the candles, smoothed wrinkles from the altar cloth with his broad hands and replaced the crucifix from the early morning Catholic service with the plain Protestant cross.

 

It was only our third service in the war zone, but it went off without a hitch.

 

Sadly, I can't say the same for Chaplain Johnson who ran the evening service. He frowned upon such accommodations involving liquor.

 

Johnson was from something I call the frowning tradition. He seemed more comfortable leading his parishioners in the "shalt nots" than the "thou shalts." He promoted his church covenant, admonishing chapel attendees to "abstain from the sale and use of intoxicating drinks."

 

He reminded me of my sixth-grade Sunday school teacher who asserted that Jesus never turned water into wine. "Actually," she said, "Jesus transformed the bad wine into the most excellent version of Welch's 100% grape juice."

 

Since the uncompromising Johnson was scheduled to leave the following week, I decided not to impose the blended communion policy on the conservative chaplain.

 

However, I did order Peoples to clean and refill the communion trays as a parting favor to Johnson. But as sometimes happens, God had other plans.

 

When Johnson entered our office that evening for our daily change-of-shift report, he looked past me and smiled, apparently pleased to see the communion trays already filled with grape juice and ready for his 8 p.m. service.

 

The next morning, Peoples and I arrived for our report, and we found Johnson loaded for bear. He'd strewn the unwashed communion trays across the desk and proceeded to give us hell, or his version of it anyway.

 

He recounted how he'd preached a particularly rousing swansong and then raised a communion cup toward the congregation to cue the unified imbibing. He pronounced, as most Baptist clergy do, "This cup represents the blood of Christ spilled for you. Take it and drink it all."

 

Then he threw back the half-ounce content like a shot glass and coughed out a raspy question, "Is there something wrong with this juice?"

 

In hearing his version of the service, I hid my smile as I imagined bemused parishioners licking their lips and responding in chorus, "It's wine, chaplain. It's real wine."

 

My sleepy assistant had inadvertently filled all the communion cups with the Catholic rosé.

 

With the broadest of frowns, Johnson declared, "Today was only the second time in my life that I've had wine."  Apparently, a few of his roguish high school friends tricked him into tasting wine 20 years previous.

 

As I watched him pack his few things from our shared desk, an impish smile formed in my mischievous heart.

 

I profusely apologized while jokingly pleading to be excused for my sergeant's faux pas.

 

"I'm so sorry, but I missed the seminary class where we learned how to turn wine into Welch's juice."

 

He wasn't amused, but his smile returned the next week when he was given his ticket home.

 

As it did for most of us who practiced the "smiling tradition."

 

 

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Parts of this column are excerpt of Norris' book, "Hero's Highway." Please read past columns on my website, www.thechaplain.net Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

Chaplain's Column --Oct 21 2022

Have a Good Day – or Not

 

 

Did your team win last week? Did your stocks go up? Did you have a terrific vacation?

 

If so, I'll bet you're singing today. Singing is easy with good news, good weather and full stomachs. 

 

But if you've had a bad day recently, you'll know why Judith Viorst wrote the children's book, "Alexander and His Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" (1972).

 

Alexander begins his day with gum stuck in his hair. From there his calamities seem to flow in a never-ending cascade of trouble.

 

Sadly, he gains little sympathy from his family. So for his 12th birthday he spends his candle wish hoping that his mom, dad, brother and sister will experience their own terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

 

The promising theme of Viorst's book seems to be that everyone has bad days, yet those times will come to an end, eventually.

 

But for those of you living in disaster zones like the fiery Western states or the flooded Florida beaches, your bad days may seem endless.

 

While this column avoids a Bible-school tone, I think it's worth considering how the Apostle Paul faced his never-ending calamites.

 

Life started out good for Paul as a Roman citizen. In the decade following Christ's crucifixion, he found a great job persecuting, torturing and crucifying Christian converts.

 

While traveling to Damascus with numerous arrest warrants, he had a come-to-Jesus moment. He saw a blinding light from heaven that questioned his career choice.

 

If Damascus sounds a bit familiar, it should.

 

A Jeopardy tile in the Idiom category might read: "An important moment of insight."  The question-answer: "What is the Road to Damascus?"

 

 

As you might imagine, Paul's carnage colleagues took exception to him switching sides. So they conspired to stone him, whip him (five times), and pummel him with sticks and stones that broke his bones. His bad luck included a snake bite and three shipwrecks.

 

Despite his tribulation, Paul managed to write 14 of the 27 books in the New Testament. Given the number of cruel days he survived, you'd be surprised to find his to be some of the best words of encouragement ever spoken to those having a bad day.

 

My favorite is Philippians 4:8:

 

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things" (NIV).

 

It's basic advice. Simple, really. If you're anxious about an issue, it's because you're overthinking the very thing that made you anxious in the first place.

 

Paul is saying you can arrest your anxiety – or at the very least diminish it – by intentionally recalling the good things in life. 

 

You may not think a chaplain has bad days or is ever discouraged, but I assure you I do. And when those "blue days" come, I review Paul's crystal-clear advice.

 

He says think on whatever is…

 

"True" -- Instead of reading the "fake news" or worse yet, the "real news," I refocus on what is spiritually true. True means faithful, reliable and real. I rely on true friends who keep me faithful and true to my calling.

 

"Noble" – This doesn't mean the nobility of kings and queens. The noble focus prescribed by Paul points to honesty, generosity and courage.

 

"Right" – Revenge, envy or lust will hardly inspire right thinking. Doing the right thing is hardly easy, but it always begins with right thinking.

 

"Pure" – Not the "pure" of goody-two-shoes and better-than-thou, but the purity that seeks to both see and inspire the good in those around us.

 

"Lovely" – Sadly, we often use this word sarcastically to mean anything but love. But I read Paul's point to mean considering the "God spots." Find those lovely places in nature, like waterfalls, snow-capped hills or sweeping oceans to touch God's lovely creation.

 

"Admirable" -- Finally, aside from Paul's words, I often look to inspiring nonfiction memoirs for the admirable qualities to which I aspire.

 

Pretty simple, really. "If anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

 

 

Recent disaster victims need more than a scripture verse or our thoughts and prayers. Real dollars given to local help is what helps. I'm a regular donor to the Red Cross and Send Relief. I hope you will be too.

https://www.sendrelief.org

https://www.redcross.org

 

Please read past columns on my website, www.thechaplain.net. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chaplain's Column --Oct 14 2022

Planes Trains and automobiles + a Bus, Gondola and Tuk-tuk

 

The "Third Chapter" is a popular term anticipating our retirement days filled with fun, food, and travel.

 

This past month, my wife Becky and I added more stories to our third chapter as we traveled Europe by plane, train, automobile – and even a bus, gondola and tuk-tuk.

 

We made the transatlantic flight to celebrate our 40^th anniversary, (two pandemic years late). We visited nine of the 15 countries of Southern Europe, but our first stop was Lisbon, Portugal, to catch our breath and feast on great seafood.

 

Three days later, we flew to Barcelona, Spain, where we ate tapas and saw the legendary flamenco dancing.

 

From there we boarded a cruise sailing around the Italian coastline through five of the 11 seas that comprise the Mediterranean. I started out seasick in the Balearic Sea but the water calmed as we pushed through the Ligurian Sea and Tyrrhenian Sea. Our ship crossed through the Strait of Messina into the Ionian and Adriatic Seas.

 

Each day brought us to a new city. We found ourselves walking the Grand Prix streets of Monte Carlo, gliding through Venice canals in a gondola, riding a tuk-tuk into Vatican City to view the Sistine Chapel and strolling atop the defensive stone walls surrounding Dubrovnik, Croatia.

 

We took a prayer-inspiring bus ride along Italy's insanely steep Amalfi Coast, a place modestly described on a travel website as: "…pastel towns that line up like sugar cubes on green hills sprinkled with bright yellow lemons, overlooked by turquoise skies dotted with brilliantly white clouds, and plunging down to sapphire seas." A little understated, I have to say.

 

After 12 days at sea, we disembarked to stay three days at the Great Waterfall (Plitvice Lakes National Park). At this UNESCO site, we saw water pouring over every rock, transforming through a kaleidoscope of colors as it replenished the lake below. Miles of boardwalk took us through a scene from Psalms 23, leading us beside the still lake waters and restoring our over-traveled souls.

 

In neighboring Slovenia, I boarded a train into the 15 miles of Postojna Cave. The jaw dropping cave is among the best known in the world. But nearby Škocjan Caves, AKA "Underground Grand Canyon" remains the most impressive. The Reka River gushes though the underworld canyon with the deafening sound level of a jet engine.

 

I encourage everyone to travel as much as they are able. I believe it inspires resiliency and brings a new perspective of the different ways people live.

 

However, I'm aware that there are times when travel is financially or physically impossible. If that describes you, consider the five ways "Staycations" can inspire resilience and fill the travel void.

 

• From the comfort of home, read a nonfiction about history, religion, cuisine, or culture. Read fiction from international writers describing their home.

 

• Introduce yourself to people from other cultures. Ask your Afghan neighbor to describe life in her country. Get your Sikh veterinarian to talk about his religious holidays.

 

• Food is my favorite form of stay-at-home travel. Attend a food festival sponsored by a Greek Orthodox or Buddhist congregation or share a meal in a Baha'i temple. Food is a wonderful challenge of your ethnocentric taste buds.

 

• When I can't afford travel, I find a nearby lake, beach, or waterfall. For me, water is my "God spot." It's where I inhale the sights and sounds that renew my connection with my Creator.

 

• Finally Interstellar travel can be as close as a moonless night in your backyard. Check online calendars for meteor shows and prepare to watch the little sky-scratchers as they etch straight lines at a perky 18 miles per second. (Watch for the Orionids shower peeking on Oct 20-21.)

 

Travel can be a part of your third Chapter – how do you plan to write yours?

 

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If you're ready to travel, why not come to Honduras to help Chispa Project start libraries in Honduran elementary schools. Dates are February 12 – 19 or March 12 – 19, 2023.  See more info at https://chispaproject.org/volunteertrip/,

 

 

Coincidently, "travel" is the topic covered in the third chapter of my book, "Thriving Beyond Surviving." The chapter, titled "Flight" expands the points in this column. Please read past columns on my website, www.thechaplain.net Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chaplain's Column --Oct 7 2022



Walking Around the Wounded

Twelve years ago, only seconds before I took the podium to speak before a Mansfield, Ohio, audience, my host handed me a small envelope from a woman who asked him to relay it to me.

Curious, I opened the decorative card.

"I read your columns," she wrote. Anticipating a thank you note, I read further.

"I think you're a liar!" wrote the anonymous woman. "Your column last week sounds impossible and made up."

What could she possibly think I lied about? I paused a moment to remember the column I'd written about a woman fainting in church.

Today, I'll relate the column for you. Was it the truth? You can be the judge. 

The story recalled my days as a 22-year-old Southern Baptist seminary student when I was invited to preach a "revival" at a local church. In case you didn't know, a revival is a series of preaching services held every night for a week - guilt delivered in its most concentrated form. 

After preaching for six nights, I was in the middle of my last sermon when one of the parishioners loudly announced that a woman had passed out.

Mid-sentence, I quickly stuttered my intent to conclude the service.

"No, no." I was chided by the woman's nameless pew mate. "I'm a nurse. I have this handled. Keep preachin', preacher."

"Really?"

She nodded her approval, so I set off again, the fervor stirring.

Suddenly, the nurse announced, "Call 911. She's having a seizure."

"OK, ladies and gentleman," I announced, "we must dismiss."

A nearby deacon overruled my notion. "Keep preaching. The woman does this all the time," his tone hinting at a psychosomatic cause.

Incredulous, I jumped to the most critical part of my sermon – the "invitation."

The invitation is the moment during the final hymn when the preacher invites people to to the altar for prayer. Due to the circumstances, I was willing to abbreviate the hymn.

But in a damn-the-torpedo approach, the music director prodded us to sing all six verses of Amazing Grace.

As we began the third verse, the paramedics barged through the front doors and pushed the gurney up the center aisle. They stopped just short of the communion table which was engraved with, "This do in remembrance of me."

I signaled the director to stop, but he was taking directions from the deacon. "Three more verses" was the order. On the last verse, patient and paramedics made their escape and the service was over.

Afterward, the deacon again assured me this was "a routine Sunday."

He then pointed his index finger downward to mark a spot where the woman had once lain while parishioners walked over her to get to Sunday Brunch.

 

Upon hearing that, it was all I could do to contain my breath mint.

Some may read this story as an example of how church people will often step over the wounded.

And you might have a valid point.

But the life truth it introduced for me that day was that we are surrounded by a lot of wounded people like this woman. And the only way we can truly help them is to remain in touch with our own woundedness and failures.

The concept was reinforced by my seminary professors who often shared the teachings of Carl Jung, a Swiss psychiatrist who founded analytical psychology.

Jung described the "wounded healer" as someone who could promote healing and empathetic understanding by confessing their own woundedness.

Had I been more in touch with my wounds, perhaps I'd have been able to walk alongside this fainting parishioner rather than acting as her superior.

Jung's ideas may well have been described by the prophet Isaiah when he predicted the coming Messiah.

^"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5 NIV).

Perhaps that's the revival preaching-text I should have used because by the end of the week-long services, I can honestly say, the fainting woman was the only person revived.

And that credit goes to the paramedics.

My truth for today.

 

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Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.