Spiritually column for April 29

Kindergarten Lessons for Life

 

Most of you likely recall the 1986 book, "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." The book contains short essays by American minister and author Robert Fulghum. 

 

I'm not aware the author ever taught kindergarten, so I checked in with the renown, Mrs. Rebecca Burkes, a grade-school teacher of thirty years and a close relation of mine.

 

She confirms Fulghum's insight. "It's true. If I had taught your kindergarten class, you'd know all you need to know about life." (OK, not her exact words, but I'm writing this column.)

 

It's likely been a minute since you read the book, so let's review the first ten things:

 

• Share everything.
• Play fair.
• Don't hit people.
• Put things back where you found them.
• Clean up your own mess.
• Don't take things that aren't yours.
• Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
• Wash your hands before you eat.
• Flush.
• Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

 

Becky found these first ten thoughts relatively easy to teach but had some difficulty as she moved toward the last five rules – especially #15.

 

It happened one day when she assembled her pre-kindergarten class of 4-year-olds on the rug for circle time.

 

Becky noticed a girl looking closely at her feet and rubbing her eyes. "Are you sad today, Ellie?"

 

"Yes," she said squeaking out her pain. "My hamster died."

 

Becky tried to comfort the little one with a hand on her back and a stroke through her hair.

 

As a chaplain, I can tell you Becky did all the right things. She asked the girl for her pet's name and then gave her the space to talk about her loss.

 

But in a class of 24 kids, Becky had to move the circle time along, so she considered Fulghum's lesson #15 which says, "Goldfish and hamsters and white mice … all die. So do we."

 

"Everything dies eventually," she told her class. "Can you name some examples?"

 

"Plants," suggested one child.

 

"Bugs," volunteered another.

 

"Animals," added one.

 

"Yes," Becky affirmed. "Plants, bugs, and animals all die."

 

Now keep in mind, my wife has no formal chaplain training. She just lives with me. But for some reason, she was inspired to tell a room full of impressionable little rugrats, "Even people die."

 

The room became eerily still as the four-year-olds considered the faces of the many "people" around them.

 

Then, thinking it might be a good time to explain her absence during the previous month, she thought it best to bring them up to date.

 

"My mom died last month."

 

Then from somewhere deep in the circle, there rose a deeply saddened question.

 

"Moms die?" one girl cried with a tone that morphed a question into a declaration.

 

Kindergarten teachers usually think fast on their feet, ready for any eventuality, but 30 years of teaching gave Becky little clue what to say next.

 

She'd obviously upset the circle and needed to smooth this over before she had a room full of hysterical four-year-olds.

 

Her best bet was Lesson #7 – "Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody."

 

She said she was sorry and like any good teacher distracted them toward snack time.

 

Not long after that, Becky retired from teaching. Since then, she and I have lost some friends and family and become more and more aware of that dying thing.

 

Which is why Becky and I stick close to Fulghum's lesson, #13:

 

"No matter how old you are - when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together."

 

And, of course, we never forget the cookies.

 

Write to me at comment@thechaplain.net and share your favorite lesson on the list.

 

 

Come with Becky as she makes a special trip with her teacher friends to help start a library in a Honduran elementary school on June 17. Details at https://www.chispaproject.org/volunteertrip Or contribute to the library cost at address below.

 

Snail mail or cookies received at 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715. Visit my website at www.thechaplain.net where you can read past columns and purchase my books.

 

 

 

Spiritually column for April 22

Tattoos, Earrings and Purple Hair Don't Define a Person of God

 

"Our new pastor has a tattoo," observed one my parishioners to another as we were trimming back the shrubbery along the church parking lot.

 

The man seemed happy his pastor was "tatted" like him, so I told them both how I'd got it seven years ago to celebrate running two marathons. The small running man figure inspires me to stay fit as I enter my senior years. 

 

The tattoo is in an unassuming place, high above my elbow, only visible when my short sleeve hikes up.

 

I've had a few religious people already tell me how the Bible makes it clear that God forbids any person from having a tattoo imbedded in their flesh. "Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print (tattoo) any marks upon you. (Leviticus 19:28).'"

 

When I mentioned it in a previous column, a reader urged me to "… publish a recanting of what you have said in an attempt to rectify the harm which you have done."

 

Prior to joining the tattooed generation, I tended to assume, as some do, that tattoos are a sign of gang affiliation or a prison record.

 

For instance, some years ago I met a fellow in our Neonatal ICU with tattoos all over his face and neck. The neck tattoos were an inscription of some kind, but I didn't want to get close enough to read it. In fact, I didn't want to approach him at all.

 

Nevertheless, it was my job to visit parents in our NICU, so I swallowed hard and extended my usual offer for chaplain services. As I spoke, the man's expression softened, and his face began to welcome me.

 

He immediately told me how important prayer was to him. In fact, he said, he'd just spent the last 30 minutes whispering Scriptures to his son, who weighed not much more than a pound.

 

I had assumed much about this man from his markings. If you'd told me he was a gang member, I would have more quickly believed you than if you'd contended that he was a Christian.

 

Yet he was a believer with a very gentle faith and countenance.

 

The Apostle Paul encountered people in the early church who fiercely assumed that no man could be a true follower of God unless he was properly marked. By "marked," they meant the Hebraic tradition of circumcision.

 

These guys were teaching Gentile men to cut their privates. Yikes, I know you likely just spewed your Cheerios, but hang on for a minute.

 

Paul stood up to these surgical scoundrels and told them they were trying to out-god God by "loading these new believers down with rules that crushed our ancestors."

 

"Don't you see?" Paul asks in Romans 2. "It's not the cut of a knife … It's the mark of God on your heart …."

 

If Paul were around today, I think he'd be telling us that tattoos, purple hair or even earrings out the wazoo don't define who people are.  Only God can define a person.

 

Paul would say, "Ignore the marks on people's arms, necks or other appendages. And get close enough to see the marks He's placed on their hearts."

 

By the way, when I raised my shirt sleeve to give the church member a better view of my tat, he questioned the quality.

 

"That's a running man?"

 

"Uh yes," I said, checking to be sure.

 

"It looks your running man has been flattened and "run over."

 

"It's blue," observed the other. Looks more like the symbol of a handicap parking space."

 

I can see now this church crew is gonna keep me humble.

 

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Contact Chaplain Norris at comment@thechaplain.net or 10566 Combie Road, Suite 6643, Auburn, CA 95602 or voicemail 843-608-9715.

 

 

Column for April 15

Tuesdays With Jim

 

There's an old joke about a pastor who shared a dressing mirror with his wife every Sunday morning.

Checking his tie, he asked, "Honey, how many great preachers do you think there really are in the world?"

"I'm not sure," she said while reaching to straighten his mismatched tie.

"But I think there is one less than you think there is."

I'm not sure my new congregation or my wife Becky would say I'm a great preacher, but I do believe I'm a better pastor thanks to the late James Morton.

Forty years ago this month, I accepted my first parish and I quickly realized that seminary didn't teach me everything.

I needed mentoring and Jim, pastor of First Big Church, was up for the challenge. Every Tuesday, for two years, he shared his wise advice while listening to all my church problems.

Jim stressed three best practices for pastoring. They also work for just being a nice person.

First, "Always carry a pen, it's a powerful device," he said.

Second, "Use that pen to write compliments, never to pen criticisms."

Jim wrote the nicest things to those needing an encouraging word. Often his parishioners shared those notes with friends, expanding Jim's ministry message.

If were mentoring me today, he'd probably urge me to add text messages and emails to convey gratitude. People will often forward those messages or post them on social media, and ministry is expanded.

Finally, when it comes to reproving others, Jim urged me to use the calm tone of spoken words. "People may be taken aback by your words," he said. "But the sting will dissipate over time. Words are fluid, and allow for feedback and revising your understanding."

Never, he emphasized, send someone a critical note.

Jim knew this was good advice for me. Even then, I was a good writer and my words had helped some but hurt others.

If you scold someone with the written word, he explained "they will nurse those words for a very long time." The words will expand in the heart of the criticized and become far worse than what was intended.

I know his advice to be true. In the 21 years of writing this syndicated column, I've received thousands of compliments.

Oddly enough, I best remember the critical ones. I've been called a moron and told to "grow up." Some say they use my column to line bird cages. One minister called my column, "drivel." Apparently, she didn't have Jim for a mentor.

While these folks have long forgotten their comments, Jim was right – biting words leave an aftertaste when written. In the echo of my head, they question my worthiness.

And before you advise me to "Buck up, don't be a whiner." Jim told me that too.

You may not be a pastor, but Jim's wisdom fits any job or situation.

Speak your critiques and pen your compliments. Spoken words will fade, written compliments need never die.

Or as Ephesians 4:29 teaches, "Say only what helps, each word a gift." (The Message.)

Jim offered one last piece of advice: "When you retire, take all your experiences back to a small church again."

"Why?" I asked, still hoping to become a "great and famous pastor."

He explained that small churches can have big problems and need experienced pastors, not seminary grads using them as a steppingstone for flashier opportunities.

Twenty years ago, Jim retired from First Big Church and took a part time job as director of missions, which is the closest Baptist equivalent to the office of bishop. I presume Jim used the new office to mentor the pastors of his 18 small churches.

In the meantime, I took that last piece of advice. I now pastor a small church just a few miles from the church he was serving before his retirement.

In hopes, I've made some improvement over the years, I occasionally dare ask my wife how many great pastors there are in the world now.

Becky shakes her head and, faithful to follow our old litany, says "STILL, one less than you think there is."

My friend Jim died 20 years ago in a plane crash in Alaska.  RIP.

________________________________

 

Write to Norris at 10556 Combie Road, Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602. Read past columns at www.TheChaplain.net. Contact him at comment@thechaplain.net or via voicemail (843) 608-9715.

 

 

 

 

Chaplain's Column -- Easter 2023

Norris Burkes 

Readers: This column attempts a creative interpretation of Easter as if it happened today. I found the inspiration in a YouTube video I've posted on my website.

What if today was the First Easter?

Editors everywhere are getting the same electrifying text message: "He's gone!"

Disheveled and breathless reporters from the "most trusted source in news" seem unable to believe their own words.

They're interrupting regularly scheduled programming to report:

"Something unprecedented has happened! Jesus, the insurrectionist that civil authorities executed days ago, has disappeared from his tomb."

Pundits at the "fair and balanced" network are repeating the same message while the red ticker screams, "Unexplained disappearance causing mass confusion."

Drivers are distracted by the flashing messages on roadway signs – "The 'Son of God' is missing!"

Truth Social is telling its 2 million followers, "Good riddance, Jesus. We don't need another god."

The Twitterverse is aflame with bots and trolls who question the nationality of Jesus' birth certificate. "SON, of GOD? WHAT!!?? "Can ANYTHING good come out of Nazareth?"

Facebook is overflowing with what some experts claim to be "deepfakes," a kind of photoshopping using artificial intelligence.

Photos depict Jesus enjoying a lakeside fish fry with Peter and the rest of his beleaguered crew. (Weeks later, Facebook followers began to share and repost fuzzy photos of Jesus being "beamed up" into a cloud.)

"Where have they taken my Lord?" the mortified Mary asks an exhausted rookie reporter who is covering the mysterious displacement of a huge cemetery stone.

A few days later, at a press conference, Mary Magdalene answers her own question with radiant assurance. "I've seen the Teacher!" she announces. "He's alive! He's alive!"

Cynical reporters ask one another, "What has emboldened this former prostitute?"

As one New York op-ed puts it, "Mary's survival had once depended upon her discretion. Now her dramatic statement seems to say, 'I have no secrets! Only joy to tell.'"

Not everyone believes it at first. 

A correspondent from Maxy News interviews a follower who'd only give his name as "Thomas, the Twin." Unafraid to express his doubts, the man says, "I won't believe it until Jesus makes an in-person appearance in the TV studio."

"Gotta be fake news," he adds. "The media only reports what the gullible want to hear."

The reporter breaks away from the interview, saying, "This just in – An unnamed clerk from the Office of the Chief Priest has confirmed – "Jesus' body was stolen by his followers to perpetuate the hoax!"

Public television assembles an expert panel to discuss the events.

The first panelist is a media expert who begins by saying, "We know that Jesus' followers are pumping out the press releases claiming Jesus has risen from the dead."

The next panelist, a thanatologist (grief expert) observes, "The preposterous claims his followers are making are a natural grief response."

And making his first national appearance, syndicated columnist Norris Burkes, not wanting to be disagreeable, adds a profound, "Maybe."

The last panelist, a bespectacled university professor, criticizes the reports as "… terribly biased. Jesus' students are only spreading the hearsay of a hysterical woman.

"After all," he concludes, "Dr. Luke, their team physician, recalls one version of events while Mathew the tax collector and Mark the fisherman take totally different approaches."

In the weeks that follow, some dogged investigative reporting reveals the chief priests had lied. They had instructed the tomb guards to circulate the fake news that the disciples stole Jesus' body under the darkness of night.

As reporters wear out the word "unprecedented," Jesus' followers produce a whole new vocabulary of adjectives, like miraculous, extraordinary and fantastic, but the majority of reporters remain skeptical

However a solid minority, including the chaplain, now confirm the story. 

They, along with Doubting Thomas, say they saw Jesus and could only conclude with Thomas, "My Lord and my God!"

Follow Norris on facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Read past columns at www.thechaplain.net. Send comments to comment@thechaplain.net or 10556 Combie Road, Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602; or via voicemail, 843-608-9715.