Transitions - Part 1

Transition. It always fascinates me. We had our last Sunday in Victoria this past week. It was a bittersweet experience. It was good in that people were very gracious, generous and appreciative. Different gestures, notes, emails, expressions of appreciation from individuals, groups and from the whole congregation were very gratifying. There were many people who said things to me about how much my being their friend and pastor has meant to them which weren't surprising at all in that I knew that we'd had a significant relationship. But there were others who said similar things to me that surprised me. Not people who I thought were not supportive of me as pastor or who I thought didn't like me very much, just people I had no idea on whom I have had such an impact. I also received a card with an expression of gratitude from someone regarding a particular thing I had once done for her that had been very powerful for her. I remember doing it, and I knew it was a good thing to do, I just had no idea just how significant it would be. It just reminds me that little things you often do - writing a note of affirmation or appreciation, for example - will have a far greater impact than we often realize. I pray God will help me to remember that as I have similar opportunities to make such gestures in the future. The whole experience was sweet.

But on the other hand, it was bitter. I was saying goodbye. I was tearing myself away from people I have loved, people I have served and walked with through significant times in their lives; people who have loved me and supported me through challenging and difficult times in my life. Although I will always hold them in my heart, many of them I will never see again. Others I will see again and continue to be in contact with, but I will never have the same relationship with them as pastor again. I will be their friend, even perhaps their beloved brother in Christ, but I will never again be their pastor, their spiritual leader. And I will most certainly not be in a position to have regular contact with them as I have, even as their friend. That's a painful thing.

As I reflect on that, however, I'm thankful for the pain - both theirs and mine, because it's a sign of love - a sign of significant relationship. They wouldn't want a pastor who they were glad to see go, and I wouldn't want to serve a congregation it's not hard to leave. I've said many times to funeral congregations that there's a sense in which it's appropriate to be thankful for grief because it's a sign of love. If we didn't love, we wouldn't grieve. So in that sense I'm thankful for the grief and sadness this leaving, this saying goodbye entails.

My next post I'll talk about saying hello to a new congregation.

Glorious skies in Coonabarabran!

We have had three great nights of observing here in Coonabarabran, NSW, Australia. The southern skies are nothing short of amazing. This already has been the most wonderful astronomical observing experience of my life, and we still have three nights to go! Last night, although clear, was poor transparency, so I turned in early (I observed from 6:30 pm till 2 or 3 am the other nights). Incidentally, this image is of Eta Carina, one of the most massive stars in the sky - between 100 and 150 times the mass of our sun. Even though the view of it I see in the telescope isn't like this astro photo, it's still breathtaking.

Although like many of my fellow amateur astronomers, I appreciate, enjoy and am interested in the science of astronomy and how these objects are created, observing is very much a spiritual experience for me. It's a form of worship. There are a few of my fellow observers (not many) who also talk about their observing in spiritual and worship terms, but they worship the sky, almost like the ancient Egyptians (or a host of other ancient peoples). But those of us who believe in the God of the Scriptures gaze with wonder at the night sky and worship not the wonder of the night sky itself, but the God who created it all. It all points to God. As Psalms 19:1 says "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."

I will continue to "worship" under the night sky for the next three nights, if we are graced with good skies.

Astronomy in Australia!

After spending a lovely week in Sydney, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, we are now in the small village of Coonabarabran, called the Astronomy Capital of Australia. It's now cloudy and rainy, but we hope to have some clear skies in a few days. We'll be here a week.

We have really enjoyed getting to know the other amateur astronomers from the US, a few of which we already knew, most of which we didn't - as well as our Aussie hosts. We have found in general that the Australian people are very friendly and hospitable. We would have total strangers walk up to us on a street corner in downtown Sydney when we were appearing puzzled looking at our map, and offer to help us find where where we were going.

We look forward to our remaining time here. It's an experience of a lifetime.

Off to Australia

Well, in just a few hours, we will be getting on a plane to fly almost 15 hours to Sydney Australia. This is a trip Joan and I have been planning for well over a year. It is a combination anniversary trip (we celebrated our 30th last July 22nd) and astronomy excursion. Joan and I will be in Sydney touring for several days before the rest of the group of 19 amateur astronomers (and spouses or companions) arrive for some more touring in Sydney. Then we will all travel (mostly by train) inland to Dubbo (also in New South Wales), where we will then rent cars and drive to Coonabarabran, styled the "Astronomy Capital of Australia." It is in a nice, rural, dark spot. We will then do astronomy observing, hosted by about a dozen Aussie amateur astronomers, for a little more than a week, along with some relaxing and touring. Then after we return to Sydney, Joan and I will fly to the "Red Centre" of Australia to Alice Springs in the Northern Territory to spend about four days and three nights. Then we fly back home.

I'll be posting from time to time about our activities on the trip, so this will in a sense transform into a bit of a "travel blog." If I can figure out some way of transferring photos from my camera to an internet cafe or hotel computer, I'll post some of them, too.

Stress of Moving

Things have really gotten crazy this week. One week from today, Joan and I get on a plane to fly to Australia for three weeks. Seven days! And we have to be pretty much packed by the time we depart. Joan and I are just looking at each other with deer-in-the-headlights sort of looks. I've been busy packing all my books and stuff in my office today, and that was ok, but then when I started taking down my stuff from the walls (diplomas, awards, wall hangings, etc.), the grief and sadness of moving sort of grabbed me. I thought, "I don't want to be taking this stuff down."

It still seems hard to believe that I'm finished with my pastorate at this church. I'm still going to preach a couple more times, but I'm pretty much done. I'll preach this Sunday, we'll get on the plane to go on vacation, and then return, go to the conference session (this annual Methodist meeting we always go to at this time of year) and then I have my last Sunday, goodbye dinner, and then we move.

Although in many ways, I am looking forward to beginning a new life and ministry in Fredericksburg, I am very sad to be leaving Victoria. This has been a wonderful place. There are so many plans I hoped to see come to fruition in the coming months and years. There are so many people I am going to miss. It's interesting that each move I have experienced as an itinerant United Methodist pastor has been different. Sometimes you anticipate or seek a move and are excited about where you're going, others you don't expect or seek, but readily accept because of the exciting possibilities it presents, and still others you struggle with, both in terms of not wanting to leave or not wanting to go to the new place or both. This one I have all kinds of ambivalent feelings about. I saw myself serving here a good while longer, I wasn't ready for a change, and I grieve leaving these people. Yet, I feel that God is calling me in this move. And when God sends you on a journey, that is the road you want to be on, as painful as it might be to depart, because great unknown blessings await down that road.

Now enough of this, and back to packing and stressing!

Sitting in Judgment - Part 2

In my last post, I talked about my recent experience in serving as a juror in a criminal case. Another thing I've been thinking a lot about is one of the questions the prosecutor asked during the "voire dire" of the jury panel (when they ask us a bunch of stuff to decide who they want to strike).

She asked something like, "What would be your primary goal in sentencing a person convicted of a criminal offense: isolation/protection of society, deterrence, or rehabilitation?" As we went around answering that question, there were a few whose response was isolation, and a good number said rehabilitation, but the most common response was deterrence. The idea is that a sentence one person receives sends a message to others who might contemplate committing such a crime. As I reflected on the question she asked us, I thought that all of them have some purpose in sentencing. I actually would rank deterrence last. For one thing, I'm not sure a sentence one person receives is going to make a lot of difference for another in restraining his or her behavior. Otherwise nobody would ever commit a crime for which they would receive a death sentence. As the record in the state of Texas demonstrates, we're sentencing people to death right and left, and they seem to keep coming. That's one reason I don't believe in the death penalty (don't get me started on that - I'll save that for another time). In short, I don't think deterrence really works very well. For me protecting society, particularly for a violent person would be a more valid purpose than deterrence. And most importantly a sentence should be appropriate for both the crime someone has committed and the person who has committed it, not somebody else.

But one of the ways she elaborated on her framing of the question, in acknowledging that we might believe all three have some part in it made it clear for me what my response is. She said, "What would you hope to achieve by giving someone a sentence?" I could easily respond, "Rehabilitation." Although I realize that in many cases, rehabilitation might not be very likely or reasonable to expect, I still would hope for that. It would be my goal.

During the closing arguments in the sentencing phase of the trial the prosecutor brought up this question again and talked to us about it. She focused on deterrence, on "sending a message." And then in talking about rehabilitation she said, "This man is beyond rehabiliation, rehabilitation is not possible in his case." As we were deliberating in the jury room regarding the defendant's sentence, I said, "Even though it may not be likely in this case, I don't believe that anyone is beyond rehabilitation. I have based my life and work on the notion that people's lives can be changed."

I fully believe that. Sometimes it's easy for us to become cynical about that notion - not just in criminal cases, but in life in general. You've heard people say it, "People don't change." You may have said it yourself. It's not only an attitude we tend to have about other people, but even about ourselves. Sometimes we feel trapped in our own lives. And the gospel actually tells us that we are trapped; that we can't change...without God. The promise of the gospel is that God is in the business of transforming our lives, setting us free from the life in which we find ourselves trapped. But it does require our turning to God and allowing him to work in us, to transform us, to change us. That's rehabilitation.

Sitting in Judgment - Part 1

This past week I had an experience which was a first. I have received jury summons a few times before over the years, but have never served on a jury. In a couple of cases I was excused, in a couple more the case didn't come to trial, and in one case, I just wasn't picked - I had too high a number. This time I was picked. So for the first time, I served on a jury.

This was a criminal case, which although more poignant than a civil case, was more interesting. The case seemed pretty simple - cut and dried, when we first learned of the charge being tried. In fact, I wondered why it had even come to a jury trial at all. The charge was "Failure to Appear," otherwise known as "Bail Jumping." I mean, either the person showed up for court or he didn't.

But as the case unfolded, it appeared that it wasn't as simple as it first seemed. Although we ended up finding the defendant guilty, we did deliberate for almost a couple of hours, and the first "straw" vote we took wasn't unanimous. Although none of us seemed to think he was innocent, several were uncomfortable with some aspects of the case, and weren't sure at first the state had proved it " beyond a reasonable doubt." But as we continued to discuss it, we all came to agree for a verdict of guilty.

Then, we came back in for the punishment part of the trial to determine the sentence. That became really sobering. We learned that "Failure to Appear" is not necessarily even a felony offense, unless the charge for which the defendant was to appear was a felony, which it had been in this case. So the sentencing parameters were a minimum of 2 and a maximum of 10 years. That's pretty stiff. Then we learned that if the defendant found guilty of this charge has served one prior prison sentence, the parameters are 2-20 years. And if the person has two or more prior sentences, they are considered a "habitual criminal" and the minimum sentence is 25 years and the maximum is life or 99 years! Although some mention of this came out during the first part of the trial, during the punishment phase this realization really sunk in. The least we would be sentencing this person was 25 years. The prosecutor wanted us to sentence him to 50 years. In the end, we sentenced him to 30 years.

It's an awesome and terrible responsibility to be in the position to decide a person's fate as we did this week. Of course, it's true that he decided his own fate ultimately by his own behavior, not only the charge we decided, but the other crimes he had committed for most of his adult life. But that still doesn't take away the sober task of sitting in judgment of another person like that.

Yet it still was a good experience in these ways: it is an important thing to do in our society, and it was good in the way all of us who served as jurors, who didn't know each other, worked together and took our task very seriously. It's an important thing to do. I'll have some more to say about this experience next time.