Felix Manz obeys his Mother

Sitting in the small boat, a stick between his knees,
while the dumb-struck guard rowed out to the middle of the Limmat,
Felix heard his mom's voice again, a shrill soprano under the January sky.
He'd had his opportunities to turn the boat around
but he stubbornly rejected them all,
even the pleas of the kindly minister sent to give him one last chance.
He knew it would be tough to face the stares of his friends back on the shore
and they all understood that somebody had to go first.
It might as well be him.
He'd gotten wet before, now he could do it again, for real.

There was no way Felix could know that others, learning of what happened in Zurich,
would it time consider alternate paths.
Maybe a little compromise wouldn't be so bad.
There's more than one way to force change.

Later, when the sound of the splash was preserved in memory
and the guard had returned to the shoreline,
his mom wondcered if now she could be released, finally,
from all that happened thirty years before.
That holy man had flipped her world upside down and
all she ever wanted was a little peace.
All she ever wanted was a little peace.

Chris Wondoloski's frustration

It was pure frustration watching the U.S. men’s national team struggle to a 0-0 draw with Canada in Houston last week.  I only saw the first half and watched the American men control the game completely.  They kept the ball on the Canadian end of the field, reversing the field constantly, but made few threatening through balls or crosses into the box.

I follow the San Jose Earthquakes so was particularly interested in Chris Wondoloski’s play.  Wondo has scored 61 goals over the past three years for the Earthquakes, but now has earned eleven caps for the national team with nary a goal.  Against the Canadians Wondoloski had three looks.  From just outside the 18 he had an open shot but his right foot betrayed him.  Later, Wondo got his foot on a bicycle kick from eight yards out but hit it weakly.  Then on a cross from the right side he got his flick sailed wide right.

Wondoloski, like all good scorers, is opportunistic.  He’s a self-made guy.  Wondoloski attended Chico State, no soccer power, worked hard, and made himself into a successful MLS soccer player.  But so far, he hasn’t transferred his scoring prowess to the national team. 

So what’s wrong with Wondo?  Why can’t he score for the national team?  Here’s one theory.  At San Jose Wondoloski is paired at the striker position with either Steve Lenhart or Alan Gordon, two big target forwards.  The Earthquakes are fond of sending balls in the air into the box, looking for either Gordon or Lenhart.  They head the ball, it finds Wondoloski, and a goal results.  Wondoloski’s opportunistic style blends well with a target forward.

But at the international level, soccer is cruel.  For a scorer on the bubble, you get a few half-chances, and if it doesn't happen, it's over.   I doubt that Wondoloski will get a chance to play in any of the ten games the national team plays this year in hopes of qualifying for the World Cup in Brazil in 2014.

Thanksgiving Sermon

I Am Thankful

(Psalm 106, Ephesians 5:15-20)

In the tranquil peace of early morn

When the new day’s sky is dark and dim

The only sound the steady drip of acidic black water

Meant to ‘waken the sleepy soul, a morning hymn.

It’s then that the Sierras to the east

Stand guard over the Valley floor

Looming like giant sentinels

Shoulder to shoulder, solid to the core

Watching this land awake,

Tractors leaving the barn, a nurse’s daily commute,

The ordinary stuff of ordinary life

All give meaning to the common pursuit.

For the simple knowledge of this one life, this one land,

I am thankful.

History, it can be argued, holds the keys

Which once unlocked give reason to all we see.

When the past is unearthed and explored

We begin to understand how things came to be.

For us, there’s the old martyr story of mother Margaret , her tongue screwed shut

And the noble Dirk running over a sheet of ice.

There’s a bell ringing against a far-off war

And the gift of a school kit, a relief kit, just enough to suffice.

But history holds its dark treasures too.

The memories of choosing the all-too-familiar path,

The relentless search for unending fun

The confident boast, the last laugh.

For me I’ll remember the story of cracks in the thin walls,

The fact that he was called yellow on a war-time train,

An eager classroom, an endless desert,

That after a long day’s journey, here comes the rain.

For the gift of this one life standing upon the memory of others,

I am thankful.

In this one solitary life I’ve seen eagles fly

And I’ve joined my voice with the chorus singing of the sweet bye and bye.

I’ve been blessed to see three babies born

and I’ve held the hands of the newly forlorn.

My heart’s been broken by the words we’re through

and I’ve learned that a heart can be born anew.

I’ve stared at the coffin of a young friend now gone

And I’ve heard the old say how long?

I’ve seen Hamlet brood to be or not to be?

While others cry I just want to be free.

I’ve watched colorful church women bend and sway

To the rhythm of song till my heart was swept away.

Yet I’ve learned that while my soul may soar

Another is left longing for more.                  

And I’ve found that just because I voice we care

Is no guarantee that life will always be fair.

For the gift of this one life with all its glory and yet its confounding imponderables,

I am thankful.

In this one solitary life I’ve seen beauty unveiled

On a soccer pitch and in a farmer’s colorful tale.

I’ve noticed that the leaves of fall and Springtime’s budding green

hint of heaven’s glory which remains for us cloaked, unseen.

I’ve found joy in DMB, Dylan, Saltwater, brothers Avett, Baez, Foxes, at every turn

And then too an Ewy cello, a song of praise, a Krehbiel horn, a Joleen solo, a Boldt original, an Ele offertory, a sung hymn, a Chopin nocturne.

I’ve stared at the ocean’s heartbeat, the ritual heave of the waves, foamy tentacles on the sandy shore

And I’ve heard the sound of silence in an ancient forest, a muted symphony all creation can adore.

I’ve seen hope in the eyes of the young and wisdom in the minds of the old

I’ve known grace to be offered by the strong and mercy proffered by the bold.

I know compassion is given by the weak and love runs deep among the poor

Strong prayers are offered by the pauper and the most unfortunate will seek to restore.

For the gift of this one life with all its beauty,

I am thankful.

I praise thee O God, with heart, and hand, and voice,

For wondrous things you have done, with all creation I rejoice.

When people trapped in a foreign land

Know deliverance from all the forces which conspire to bind

They sing an old song in a new way

Now tasting the sweet fruits for which they were designed.

When people’s hearts are stretched enough to see

In their new neighbor’s strange ways the spark of the divine

They experience anew what Paul taught,

That these Gentiles can share with us a common mind.

Jesus has always been there

The critical, consistent fabric of my life, constant friend,

Savior and King, Example and Guide,

Changing yet forever, please be with me til the end.

For the gift of faith, the promise of deliverance, the gift of Jesus,

I am thankful.

In the end there is faith, hope, and love, these three, and the greatest of these is love.

Love is known in the kindness of a Samaritan

It’s found in the prisons and on the gridiron too

It’s offered by priests and sinners, saints and charlatans.

Love has no boundary lines, it has no end.

It’s known in congregations and families

It’s found in the face of a mom welcoming home her wandering son

It’s offered to all who God above sees.

In this one solitary life I’ve seen the marvelous expanse of stars above

And I’ve witnessed the birth of holy love.

I’ve seen elephants walk and gardens fair

And I’ve seen kindness offered, a gift beyond compare.

All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above,

So thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, for all his love.

Yes, I am thankful.

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to our grand-son, Micah, now three years old.  On the evening of the 23rd, Phnom Penh time, they had a big party.  We skyped in early this morning just in time to see people saying good-bye, and Micah running around, being a three year old boy.

Advent prayer

During Advent we wait for the coming of the Christ child.  Christmas has come and we rejoice.  Still, we wait.

A Prayer on the Fourth Sunday of Advent 

O God in heaven,

We light the fourth candle and wait.

We wait for light to pierce the darkness.

We wait for the lost to return.

We wait for calm to follow the storm.

We wait for all babies to be loved by their parents.

We wait for soldiers to return home.

We wait for immigrants to feel welcomed.

We wait for the lonely to gain a friend.

We wait for the forlorn to find shelter.

We wait for the depressed to experience lasting hope.

We wait for the heart-broken to mend.

We wait for the addicted to find a safe circle.

We wait for the socially awkward to find a place of acceptance.

We wait for the embittered to know a soft heart.

We wait for the materialistic to find beauty in the simple.

We wait for the hungry to sit down to a lavish feast.

We wait for the songless to hear the strains of the Messiah.

We wait for the desperate to know that their redeemer liveth.

We wait for the abject sinner to find lasting salvation.

We wait for the warrior to be transformed into a peacemaker.

We wait for our cowardice to turn into bravery.

We wait for divisions to be seen as opportunities for conversation.

We wait for the promiscuous the chance to learn the joy of faithfulness.

We wait for the stumbling sinner the chance to get it right.

We wait for the marriage gone cold the rebirth of love’s devotion.

We wait for the rich the ability to understand how the bottom tier lives.

We wait for foster children a steady, loving home.

We wait for ethnic divisions to be replaced by mutual understanding and respect.

We wait for dismissive attitudes to be transformed into active interest in the other’s well-being.

We wait for pregnant teenage girls a caring mentor.

We wait for those who mourn the rest of a peaceful tomorrow.

We wait for the child without an education the opportunity to enter a library.

We wait for the vengeful the ability to turn the other cheek.

For all that we wait for we pray that the light that shone in Bethlehem,

the light and hope of Jesus

might be born anew in us today, and in all who seek him still.

Amen.

A Cambodia visit

After a wonderful Christmas Day service at our church, we returned to our home on Ponderosa Avenue to spend a quiet December 25th readying ourselves for our trip to Cambodia to see our son Elijah and wife Sina, and their children, our only grandchildren, Micah and Angelica.  Angelica was born on November 10, so this would be our first opportunity to meet this new addition to our family.  We flew out of Fresno on the 26th and, after 24 hours of travel, met Angelica for the first time.  We soon discovered that Angelica is a very calm, sweet, little baby girl.  We spent a lot of time just looking at her, and exchanging smiles.

Elijah went to Cambodia for the first time in 2003 following his graduation from UCSD.  He worked in Cambodia with Mennonite Central Committee, assigned to MCC's partnership program. He spent special time with a young Cambodian women's peace group interested in promoting women's rights, teaching conflict resolution skills, and advocating for women's causes in Cambodia.  Elijah served with MCC for four years, falling in love with Khmer culture and language in the process, not to mention with Sina Yang.  Sina and Elijah married in 2008.  Today Elijah works with the International Committee of the Red Cross as a delegate and interpreter.  He spends a lot of time visiting and monitoring conditions in Cambodian prisons.   By now his work has taken him to many interesting places and events, including this training.

 

Our daughter-in-law Sina brings a lot of happiness and spice to our lives.  She comes from a big and loving family that enjoys just getting together.  Sina, among other things, is very interested in photography and she loves to eat crab at a little restaurant in Kep.

The sprawling Yang family means that Micah has lots of cousins to eat and play with.  In addition, he's got a soccer friend named Winner and Elijah and Sina's good friends Pisit and Seiha's daughter, Sophia, is also a good friend.

 

We spent time with Micah reading stories and playing games.  Unfortunately, when we took a walk to Micah's school to visit the playground, the gates were locked because it was a holiday.  But overall Micah is a lucky boy.  He's growing up learning to speak two languages, Khmai and English.

We were in Cambodia for about ten days.  Most of the time was spent at Elijah and Sina's condo in Phnom Penh but we did spend a weekend at the Veranda in Kep, on the shores of the Gulf of Thailand.  We returned to our home in Reedley, California on January 8.