He Won!

Today Kinzman won the school's speech contest with the speech posted below. He will now advance to the regionals. Proud. Amazed.

Kinzman's Speech for the Modern Woodmen of the World Speech Contest

Good Morning (afternoon) ladies and germs! I know, I know, that’s an old joke, but it is actually important for my talk with you today.

Americans are great inventors. I’m not putting down the ancient Egyptians for inventing paper, or the ancient Arabs for discovering the principles of algebra, but let’s face it, in modern times it’s America that has brought about most of the great inventions.

Where would we be today without the invention in 1898 of the semi-automatic shotgun? Or what good would a submarine be without a periscope? That was invented by an American in 1902. What about jellied-gasoline? That’s a useful flammable substance that actually sticks to its victims to help burn them to death.

We invented that in 1943. It’s called napalm. But in addition to warfare (and who can forget the atomic bomb?) we’ve also invented fun things like the corn dog, antiperspirants, and soft ice cream.

It’s true that a lot of inventions are used for non-peaceful purposes, but it’s also true that many are used for life-giving purposes.

The greatest American invention of all time is one of these life-giving inventions. There’s no one in this room that hasn’t used at least one. In fact, you probably have some at home right now. It was invented 90 years ago by Earle Dickson back in 1921.

And the reason he invented it? Well, it was SORELY needed. You’ll understand that joke when I tell you that the greatest American invention of all time is the (drum roll please) BAND-AID.

Earle Dickson was working for Johnson and Johnson, a bandage and first-aid company when he came up with the idea for a bandage with its own adhesive. It’s uses are obvious: cuts, scrapes, and TLC for all of your boo-boos.

It’s a simple concept. It has an absorbent pad that can soak up all sorts of nasty stuff oozing from your body like pus and blood. But here’s the good part: the pad doesn’t stick to the wound! Instead, the adhesive ends hold the pad in place. So the only pain the patient feels is upon ripping the band-aid off of a hairy place on your body. But that’s not important.

What IS important is that band-aids, especially modern ones, are made with extra flexibility: stretchable fabric that moves with you to fit better. Plus, they have greater durability to help the bandage stay in place longer. I know this for two reasons: one, I have worn band aids. And two, I read it on the box in my medicine cabinet. It’s a simply beautiful invention.

Can you imagine life without band-aids? That pesky hangnail would torment you for days. What about having only a mother’s kiss to “make it all better?” No, the band aid is essential to modern life. In a pinch it can substitute for scotch tape, but scotch tape makes a terrible bandage.

Without a doubt, the greatest American invention of all times came from Earle Dickson 90 years ago. The band aid. Even as I say its name I hear patriotic music playing in the distance. We can live without napalm, guns, and periscopes, but not without this medical miracle known as the lowly adhesive bandage.

Selbies, charge!

Camp Selby Is BEEST

Peddie and Pickle are invited

I've invited these authors to post on the blog. Kinzman, e, Mamacita, Isabug, and I were heretofore the only authors.

Yet Another Weekly Scold

The Kingdom of Heaven Has Come Near

A sermon on the 3^rd Sunday after the Epiphany 2011

All Saints’ Episcopal Church

Morristown, Tennessee

Henry G. Selby

“May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer.” AMEN.

Do you want to be citizen of heaven? Do you want cross over Jordan, be cleansed whiter than snow, to be a member of the choirs in a never ending Sabbath in that place where there are no sorrows or tears, but rather an ineffable joy . . . an indescribable peace . . . ? Do you want to ride the glory train? (Oh, how I wish that train would blow its whistle this morning right on cue!)

I have no idea what your conception of heaven is. Chances are, it’s been influenced, as has mine, by artists of the Renaissance or perhaps Gustav Doré’s engravings from the Divine Comedy. Who can forget Beatrice and Dante, as etched by Doré, gazing into the Empyrean, highest heaven, at what appears to be a vortex of winged angels? Highest heaven. Beings so spiritually advanced that they are nothing more, but nothing less, than light.

Heaven. God’s abode. St. Peter at the pearly gates. A crystal sea. Halos and wings and harps for everyone! Sort of a nebulous affair . . . where it’s always sunny even though you move through the clouds . . .

I don’t know what it looks like. What I do know is that I want to go there. I’m guessing you do to! And today, the third Sunday after the Epiphany (a season of light-in-the-darkness symbolism) we have Jesus telling us to repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near. So it seems pretty clear to me that if I want to be a part of the celestial congregation, I’d better repent.

On the other hand, this reminds me of the parish priest in Dublin who entered a pub to spy on some of his flock. “Michael O’Shaughnessy,” he exclaimed upon spotting one. “Don’t you want to go to heaven?” “Yes, father, I do.” “Then stand over here.”

The Kingdom of Heaven Has Come Near, page 2

Then he saw another one: “Sean Patrick, don’t you want to go to heaven?” “Yes, father, I do.” “Then stand over here.” And Kevin O’Malley: don’t you want to go to heaven? “No father.”

He couldn’t believe his ears.

“What? Kevin! You mean when you die you don’t want to go to heaven?”

“Oh yes, father, when I die. I thought you were getting up a group to go right now!”

You see, Kevin was probably willing to repent, but just not quite yet. It’s a funny story, but the truth is that Kevin didn’t get the bigger picture . . . that the Kingdom of heaven is near and the time to repent is now.

Today’s Gospel lesson is instructive on many levels. We are given the history of Jesus’ call to some disciples and his earliest ministry. It footnotes our Old Testament lesson from Isaiah, and it is a clear instruction and call for repentance. Finally, it is a model for us to follow Jesus’ example in taking care of others.

And here’s a thought: what if the kingdom of heaven came near and you couldn’t recognize it when you saw it? What if it were right there, inches from you, but you couldn’t see it because you were facing the wrong direction?

I imagine that everyone knows what repent means. Just in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll remind you. It means “turn around.” It’s not a curse. It’s not some high falutin’ religious rule or commandment from an angry overseer. “Repent”, I would suggest, is in fact a very loving statement. Put very simply, if you saw someone running toward the edge of a cliff, you might suggest that he turn around and run in the opposite direction!

The Kingdom of Heaven Has Come Near, page 3

So the loving intent of our Lord when he speaks to us should be obvious: if you want to see the nearness of that place that seems impossible to describe, the place where you say you want to spend all eternity, you’re going to have to start by repenting. And brothers and sisters, let me share with you from my own experience: true repentance is the door to a transformed life. But how do we recognize the need to repent? How do I know that it’s time to “turn around”?

Some folks have counselors or spiritual directors to help them see the need. Others have real friends . . . you know . . . the ones who love us enough to tell us the truth . . .

For the lucky ones among us, we have these human mirrors to reflect our needs in such a way that we can see outside of our own selfishness once in a while.

It’s like the young woman who decided to give the convent a try. She entered one of these cloistered nunneries where the sisters take a vow of silence. At the end of her first year the Mother Superior called her in, commended her for diligence in her spiritual path, and as a reward, allowed her to say two words. The girl responded, “Beds. Hard.” The Reverend Mother was miffed, but said nothing and sent the novice on her way. Another year passed and she allowed the novice to say two more words. This time? “Food. Bad.” Again, she was sent back without a comment. At the end of her third year the Superior gave her another chance to speak before making her perpetual vow. “I quit.” The Rev. Mother didn’t bat an eye! “It’s no wonder! You’ve done nothing but complain since you got here!”

And here in today’s Gospel our Lord seems to be saying that, whether we know it or not, if we want to glimpse the Kingdom, we’d better turn around.

The Kingdom of Heaven Has Come Near, page 4

There’s this Gregorian melody that is mysterious, haunting, and just, well, sort of heavenly. It’s been floating around sacred spaces in the western church for well over a thousand years. Not too many years ago a French composer named Maurice Duruflé made a choral setting of the melody. You’ll hear our choir sing it today. But it’s not just this heavenly melody that is profound, it is the ancient text that goes along with the music:

Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Where there is charity and love, God is there also.

Another translation has it as ubi caritas est vera, Deus ibi est: Where there is true charity (or love), there is God also.

My friends, the Gospel lesson today is powerful. Think about it. Imagine it! Imagine the possibilities that are out there for us if we follow this simple and loving direction: Repent!

I suspect there’s a temptation here to say, “hey. I’m a truly loving person. It’s time for me to help my child or my wife or my neighbor or my politicians REPENT. Well, this is not the time for you husbands to be jabbing your wife and whispering, “I hope you’re getting this!”

No. This is a foreshadowing of Jesus’ teaching on removing the log in your own eye so that you can see the mote in your neighbor’s. Our Lord is giving the direction to each of us, individually. Repent.

So it’s a good-news bad news thing: the good news is that the kingdom of heaven has come near; the bad news is, we have to repent to have a taste of it. But the really, really good news is that repentance doesn’t imply that we’ve been doing something “bad” at all. Hear that again: repentance does NOT imply that we’ve been doing something “bad”. It just means that we need to turn around: to head ourselves in the best direction.

The Kingdom of Heaven Has Come Near, page 5

Jesus sees two brothers, Simon Peter and Andrew, casting their nets. He calls out to them. Can you visualize this? Can you see them turn to see who is calling out to them from the shore? And they turn around and follow him. He sees Zebedee’s boys, James and John sitting in a boat and he calls to them. They, too, turn around and immediately follow him.

Do we have ears to hear our Lord calling us? In today’s collect we prayed for the grace to answer God’s call. It is a call to repentance, and it is a call made from pure love.

“Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est.”

And there’s the proclamation of the unlimited possibilities of a life transformed. I didn’t say it would be an easy life. I didn’t say it would be a hard life. But what I am saying is that we don’t have to make our new journey alone. We have each other . . . and shortly we will be united with millions of others – millions of others! – who are strengthened today by the body and blood of God who calls us.

Do we want to be citizens of heaven? Do we want cross over Jordan, be cleansed whiter than snow, to be members of the choirs in a never ending Sabbath in that place where there are no sorrows or tears? Do we really want to ride the Glory train?

Brothers and Sisters: the Kingdom of Heaven has come near this morning. Turn around and take a look.

And now unto God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be ascribed as is most justly due, all might, majesty, power, dominion, and glory, both now and evermore. AMEN.

This Year's Advent IV Sermon

Sermon on the Birth of Jesus “Welcome to the Future”
All Saints’ Episcopal Church
Morristown, TN
19 December 2010
Henry G. Selby

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord my strength and my redeemer.” AMEN

Good morning, brothers and sisters! Welcome to the future! Is this the way you pictured it? In English classes we sometimes use a device called a “story starter”. It’s the opening line that is designed to propel the students toward creative thoughts. In research papers this same idea is usually referred to as a thesis statement; in creative writing for younger writers it’s a “story starter”. Opening lines are critical for engaging the attention of readers and listeners. “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” “Call me Ishmael” “Two houses, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene.” Here’s one of my all time favorite first lines. It’s from Peter Pan: “All of this has happened before”. That great opener causes the listeners to lean forward in expectation.

And what did we just hear?

“Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.”

And everyone leans forward to hear the story again. Do we ever tire of this? This year we have St. Matthew’s account of the Christmas story. Matthew is brief and to the point: “Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way.” And seven sentences later he’s done with the entire birth narrative. If you’ll come back for one of our Christmas services you’ll hear Luke’s or John’s account . . . and no doubt you’ll lean forward to hear that version again. What a great story it is!

So how are you getting along here right before Christmas? Are you serene? Are you full of hope? Do you look forward with a mild combination of subdued excitement and an overriding sense of peace? Or are you more like I am?

I’m excited, but I’m also nearing what my mother used to call “chronic nervous exhaustion.” Just here at All Saints, the church, I counted 121 calendarized events for December. How many more are not specifically mentioned on our calendar? And if you’re one of those people who have children or pets or a job or friends or relatives or clubs or health issues, then the opportunities for you to join me in chronic exhaustion are numbered like Abraham’s descendants!

It’s a busy time of year. And much like we all lean forward to hear “the greatest story ever told”, we also want to lean forward and share how busy we all are . . . and how terribly WRONG it is for us to be so busy. Advent MUST be a reflective time if we are fully to grasp the story that Matthew tells us. The story is one of hope . . . of anticipation . . . of a birth. Of the future unfolding.

This morning we are gathered for an hour or so in a time and place where the madness can stop. We have chosen to hear God’s word, to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice, and to pray together. [deep breath]

Immanuel: God is with us.

When I was a little boy I was full of hope for the future. My saintly first grade teacher, Mrs. Kiser of room 106, told me that I could be president if I wanted to be. We didn’t have a television until I was six years old, and in the first grade, and the used, black-and-white TV received three channels if one turned a controller to point our
rooftop antenna in the direction of the broadcasting station. That was 1961. And that television, along with Mrs. Kiser and my parents and my church, fed my hopefulness.
I was interested in how things were just getting better every day. On Sunday nights we would gather in the living room and watch ABC’s Wonderful World of Disney. My favorite shows included such people as rocket scientist Werner von Braun telling us about how trips to Mars would be commonplace by the 21st century, along with flying cars and “sleep learning!” Hadn’t my father just told my brother and me about the 103rd element, Lawrencium, being synthesized at Berkeley? It was just one exciting triumph after another. Man, those were the good old days!

Not like now. The economy’s a wreck. There are gangs of hoodlums, not just in L.A., but here! There’s massive nuclear instability emerging everywhere it seems. Somebody out there in the congregation has serious health problems, or an aging parent that you just don’t know what’s the next right thing to do is. Or bills to pay. Or an addiction that’s ruining lives. I turn on the television now and the word is hopelessness. What happened to the flying cars and sleep learning?

There were, in fact, lots of bad things happening in the world then: an atomic reactor blew up in Idaho (yes, back in 1961), the Bay of Pigs invasion failed, Freedom Riders were being arrested, the Berlin Wall was built, and the first American helicopters arrived in Saigon that year. But I didn’t pay any attention to Walter Cronkite or the Huntley-Brinkley report. I was more interested in exciting news. I actually thought it was exciting that my family built a fallout shelter in our basement! Sandbags covered the sunken casement windows, shelves were lined with row after row of canned goods, drinking water, and paper products. What a world!

So when I think back on the “good old days” of 1961 I have to remember that, along with Disney, Judy Garland’s “comeback” concert, and Gus Grissom rocketing into space during the Mercury program, there were a lot of bad things happening as well. It was years later that I learned Werner von Braun was a member of the Nazi party.

That sort of truth really messes up my recollections of the “good old days”. And I think you can easily see where I’m going with this: if we choose to live in the negative world of hopelessness, God will let us. If we choose to live in the hope of our calling as God’s children, our outlook will be quite different. In psychology 101 everyone learned this truth: people see what they want to see. People see what they want to see. And in Flip Wilson’s television character, Geraldine, we have an equally powerful truth: “Honey. What you see is what you get.”

So welcome to the future. Advent IV, A.D. 2010. We’re here now. What’s next? I’ll tell you. It’s what has always been, always is, and always will be. Immanuel. God is with us. We never really knew this until God became flesh, as a little baby in a manger, and dwelt among us. Now that we know it, to what should we be looking forward?

Sisters and brothers, we stand at the door of Christmas. Particularly in the Anglican communion worldwide, we insist that Advent be a reflective time for just one thing: looking forward to the only thing that matters. Truth is, the future is not what it used to be . . . at least from the world’s point of view. But from the viewpoint of all eternity, it has never changed. Immanuel. God is with us.

I wonder if this hour or so that we have together this morning is enough to help us put aside the hustle and bustle of the holidays for reflection. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that we have this time right now to consider the implications of a Creator God so majestic, so awesome, so mighty and powerful, so eternal that words defy a description of God’s greatness . . . who came into our world as a little baby . . . and then in time, gave himself for you and for me.

Please understand that I’m not suggesting that we live in some Pollyanna world, denying the awful things around us. But by the same token I would ask you to consider that it is one’s perspective that makes all the difference. Do I want to focus on the negative or on the positive. Advent is the perfect reflective season to answer that question. What’s next? In our annual pageant, the pageant of the church year, the next scene is the birth of Jesus, the messiah. A savior. A God become man who says “look to the only thing that matters: Union with your creator. Immanuel. God is with us.

When I am finished reflecting with you in just a few minutes we will have the opportunity to affirm our faith in the Nicene Creed. We will have an opportunity to get out of ourselves as we pray for others. We will offer each other a sign of peace and offer our gifts to God. And then? Then we will do what Jesus himself commanded us to do for Union: we will make Eucharist. For you see, brothers and sisters, Jesus had to be born in order to give himself for us. And that is why, as important as we make his birth, we declare his resurrection as the queen of feasts. Yes, right here at the end of Advent, we declare ourselves an Easter People.

Welcome to the future. We have been given NOW as our time to make a decision. To see the baby who saves us, or to squander our NOW in hopelessness and despair.

Let us walk together to the manger in Bethlehem, full of hope about what we will see there. Let’s think together as we walk . . . about the meaning of it all. Let us choose to approach the world around us with a sure and certain hope of our salvation. And as we walk, let Matthew tell us a story. It starts like this: “Now the birth of Jesus the messiah happened in this way.”

And now unto God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be ascribed as is most justly due, all might majesty, power, dominion, and glory, both now and evermore. AMEN