OMG: Good Friday Sermon, 2025

by Steve Harsh, posted in Lenten devotion, Sermon

OMG – a common abbreviation used these days on social media and many users don’t know it, but it’s really a prayer, a lament.  It means “O My God,” and in our Good Friday context the emphasis is on the little word “My.”  Because even when we doubt and feel God is absent, we still own and affirm the relationship. My kids are still My kids even when they do stupid stuff I don’t agree with – same with friends, spouse, and colleagues.  Real relationships and friendships have no expiration date, and certainly there is none with the eternal God of all creation who has been with us since the day we were born and will be with us for all eternity after our short sojourn on this earth is over.  

Another common lament today is “Life sucks and then you die!”  That one is not in the Bible, but it could be in the book of Lamentations. When Jesus says from the cross, “My God My God why?”  Hear the My and not just the forsaken.  And of course the lament of Psalm 22 is followed immediately in our Bible by the most familiar Psalm of the whole 150.   Psalm 23 begins with “The Lord is MY shepherd.”

As we remember the brutal crucifixion of Jesus tonight I invite you to make that experience real.  Feel it in your gut.  Imagine or remember a time when you were in unbearable pain – either physical or emotional, and Jesus was certainly in both – a time when God feels as far away as the planet Pluto – at the death bed of someone you don’t think you can live without – when you hear a terminal diagnosis from a doctor – or your heartbreaks over a shattered relationship, or a job loss, or your financial security disappearing, or hearing on the news about unspeakable human cruelty.

Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel in his book “Night” relates an incident when he was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp when a young man was hung and all the other prisoners forced to watch.  Someone asks Wiesel, “Where is your God?” and his answer is, “Right there on the gallows.” Whatever and whenever we suffer God suffers right along with us.

One of my favorite descriptions about human lament is the one Brian and Barbara just sang for us, “Day is Done,” by Peter, Paul, and Mary.  I asked for that song because of these lyrics which say, “Tell me why you’re crying my son; I know you’re frightened like everyone. Is it the thunder in the distance you fear? Will it help if I stay very near – I am here.” And if you take my hand my son, all will be well when the day is done.”

We really want to believe that “all will be well when the day is done,” but we don’t know how long that metaphorical day will last or if we can last that long. But what we do know is that it helps to have someone very near.  It helps to be able to share out loud what our pain is with someone we trust and know will listen and just be present as long as we need them. 

I just learned about a quote from Fred Rogers recently in our Books to Bridges book group.  Mr. Rogers said, “What is mentionable is manageable.” “What is mentionable is manageable.”

Pain that we try to carry alone can suck the very life out of us, but if we can talk about it the power it has over us is shared and diminished – it becomes manageable.

Another lament in Psalm 13 begins with these plaintive words: “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?   How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I bear pain in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all day long?”   The point in sharing these cries for help is not to depress us but simply that it’s OK to lament, to doubt; those feelings are part of the human condition. No matter how strong your faith is it is hard when the foundations of your existence are shaken like an 8.0 earthquake.  Even Jesus who had more faith than all of us put together cries out “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” which is even more powerful in the Aramaic that Jesus would have spoken: “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”    

And as you heard in our scripture from Psalm 22 tonight we know where Jesus got those words.  Jesus knew his Scriptures very well, and he knew his people for centuries had been no strangers to devastating loss.  They were experts at lament.  We even have a whole book called Lamentations in the Hebrew Scriptures, which is our Old Testament, devoted to nothing but laments.  And part of the prophet Isaiah’s description of God’s Messiah is that he is a suffering servant who “… was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with grief.”

Ps 22 is typical of another source of laments the Hebrew people used in public worship. Do you know that there are more psalms of lament in the book of Psalms than any other type of Psalm? One of my favorites when I’m having a no good, terrible, awful day is Psalm 130.  It’s called “De Profundis” in Latin and says, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.  Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!”  Out of the depths loosely translated means “we are in deep do do.”

Psalm 63:1 echoes the same song: “O God, You are MY God; early will I seek you; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for you in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water.” I’ll bet most of us have been in such a dry and thirsty land or may even be there right now.  That’s the message of Good Friday.  I still remember vividly one such time in my youth.  It was my Boy Scout Order of the Arrow initiation.  I was maybe 13. I was led out along with my fellow scouts in total silence and darkness until I was tapped on the shoulder and told to stop and sleep right there, left alone in a strange, dark woods overnight with only a sleeping bag. I had no idea if anyone else was close by or where I was. It was the most alone I had ever been at that stage of my life

Kate Bowler, one of my go to devotional sources, wrote this blessing two years ago in 2023, but it is even more relevant today and is part of her Lenten devotions for 2025. 

It’s called “A Blessing for when you need a little hope.”  “These days feel heavy and dark, like hope packed up and left, and forgot to send a postcard. We cry: Where are the good things? And honestly, where are the good people— the sensible ones fighting for what matters? Why does it feel like bad stuff always elbows its way to the front, pushing everything good to the sidelines? We’re tired. Exhausted, really. Desperation is knocking, and it’s tempting to surrender. Blessed are you, who see the world as it is: the sickness and loneliness, the injustice that never seems to end, the greed and misuse of power, the violence and intimidation, the mockery of truth, and disdain for weakness, and worse— the seeming powerlessness of anyone trying to stop it. Blessed are you, worn down by hard-earned cynicism, running on fumes, with no promise of a destination. Maybe hope isn’t so distant. Maybe it’s there—small, persistent, and stubborn. May you grasp something in the heaviness. A glimmer of what could be, and walk, step by step, toward the possibility that goodness exists. Hope is an anchor dropped into the future pulling you forward, toward something better— even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.”

Yes, my friends, there is always hope somewhere.  Even “O My God, My God” still claims God as ours.

 This Good Friday feels more real to me because we are living in a time of great uncertainty in our country and our world.  No matter what your politics you know these are unsettling times.  But we aren’t the first to feel this way.  The women at the foot of the cross and the other disciples hiding out somewhere had no idea what their future held – and neither do we.  I invite you to put yourself in the crucifixion story – pretend we don’t know what happens on Sunday morning, and enter fully into the forsakenness of that moment with Jesus and his followers and friends.   

What do we do when life seems hopeless, empty, dark, alien, and full of fear and uncertainty?  Like Jesus we can call out “O My God, help us!” and God will answer.  Maybe not immediately; we may have to go through a long Saturday of uncertainty, as long as that Saturday lasts, but there will be an answer because God does not forsake us, just as God did not forsake Jesus.

Even here in the darkness we remember that God so loved the world that God sent Jesus to love and save us. When all else fails it is that love that is eternal.  God so loved the world, and as author Sarah Bessey says, we are called to love that world too and everyone in it, even, Sarah says, knowing that it will break our hearts – knowing it will break our hearts.  To love means risking, being vulnerable, feeling pain — but a broken heart is so much better than not having a heart at all. 

Good Friday 2025, Northwest UMC, Columbus, OH

Prayer for a Dying 401-K

by Steve Harsh, posted in Faith and Values, hope, prayer

O God of the universe, my retirement funds are in the dumpster, they’re dropping faster than that first big stomach-churning drop on those big roller coasters. I’m so old I don’t know if those funds will have time to recover even if the market does, and I’m scared.

The other stuff I depend on for my well-being, e.g. Medicare and Social Security is also under attack from rogue billionaires in Washington who have no idea what life is like for us common folks. Without medicare I would not have been able to get the life-saving cancer treatment I just finished, and things are much worse for others who are uninsured or underinsured.

But you know all that already, O Holy One, and you know I’m better off than millions of others who are living in fear of real poverty or arrest and/or deportation to a hell hole in El Salvador just because they are the wrong color or dare to exercise their right to free expression.

My friends are losing their jobs as the economy craters. Public and higher education are under attack. I know you don’t intervene directly in human affairs. You have blessed (or cursed) us with free will; so I just pray for strength, courage, and faith for all of us to support and love one another no matter how deep this economic hole becomes.

No matter what happens to our standard of living our standard of loving can thrive and grow because it is not founded on the whims of human greed, but on the bedrock of your eternal love that nothing in all creation can ever take from us.

Clinging to that assurance our fears for the temporary stuff of this life fade as we affirm our real confidence in what it says on the money we used to have, “In God We Trust.” Amen

Squads of Love

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, hope, Lenten devotion

The following words of wisdom hit me today right where I needed them. I had another morning when I struggled to get out of bed because I didn’t want to face another day of the awful mess our world is in. And this message by one of my favorite spiritual guides quoting another of my favorites helped me face the day.

Father Richard Rohr shared this insight in his daily meditation from the Center for Action and Contemplation:

Religion scholar Diana Butler Bass ponders the crowd’s outrage after Jesus’ first sermon in Nazareth (Luke 4:18–30)—and the courage required to resist it:  

A preacher gets up, quotes scripture, and reminds the gathered congregation that God loves the outcast—those in fear for their lives—the poor, prisoners, the disabled, and the oppressed. 

In response, an outraged mob tries to kill the preacher…. 

Jesus spoke directly to the congregation saying that God loved widows and those stricken with leprosy—implying that his neighbors had not treated widows and lepers justly. They praised God’s words about justice but were not acting on God’s command to enact mercy toward outcasts. 

That’s when they “all” got angry and turned into a mob. At least, the majority of them didn’t want to hear this. They flew into a rage. 

When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way. [Luke 4:28–30] 

… What do you do when the mob turns ugly? When widows and lepers, when LGBTQ people and immigrants, are afraid and treated cruelly—and when a brave prophet calls out the self-righteous? What do you do when there’s a lynch mob or a cross-burning? 

I suspect the unnamed heroes of this story stepped outside of the “all,” not willing to be part of the totality, and made a way for the intended victim to pass safely. Did they spot one another in the angry throng? A furtive glance, seeing another hesitant face across the room? Maybe they moved toward one another, hoping to keep each other safe. Did a few others notice the two and the small band then began to multiply? The “all” was furious; the few didn’t understand how it had come to this. 

It was frightening for them; it must have been hard to go against their family, friends, and neighbors. As they followed the mob to the bluff, they must have worried that if they spoke up they could be thrown off, too. But instead of submitting to the tyranny of the “all,” maybe they formed a little alternative community in solidarity with each other. When Jesus was herded to the cliff, perhaps it was they who saw an opening—made an opening—and helped him escape. He passed through the midst of them and went on his way. 

That is, indeed, a miracle. The bystanders find the courage to do something. 

If Jesus needed that, so do we…. We must form squads of love and make a path through together … no matter how fearsome the mob. 

And that’s the overlooked miracle of Luke 4: Only a community—even one that goes unnoticed in the crowd—the band that refuses to join the rabble—can keep us from going completely over the edge.

Lent: Fourth Sunday Prayer

by Steve Harsh, posted in Gratitude, Lenten devotion, prayer

O God of eternal love, we are here again needing your amazing grace.  We’re half way through our Lenten journey, and to be honest some of us have lost our way.  The distractions of life keep pulling us off track.  There are taxes to do, gardens to prepare, and our houses, offices, and even our lives need a good spring cleaning. 

Spring break isn’t long enough, and quite frankly we often come back from vacations more tired than when we left. Those school assignments or work deadlines are still lurking on our lap tops and in the back of our minds.  Instead of focusing on what you would have us do for others we get turned in on our own fears and doubts about the future—concerns about our own health or the well-being of our loved ones. 

Gracious Holy One, we know you have told us over and over again to put our trust in you and not in things that thieves or natural disasters can take from us.  But we still have to buy expensive food and watch our retirement accounts shrivel up.  Those fears are real, God.  And they make it hard to trust in the future. 

So we’re here seeking hope and assurance.  We need forgiveness for the times we have strayed from the narrow path that leads to salvation and for the times when we self-righteously look down our noses at others who are just as lost as we are.  Speak to us again your words of grace that tell us and show us that we can never wander so far that you can’t find us, for you are with us and your spirit is right within our hearts.

Remind us once more, O Holy One, that you are not the judgmental, angry God many of us grew up learning about, but you are the Good Shepherd, the mother hen, the eagle parents nurturing their young. You love us unconditionally forever.  There’s no fine print, no preexisting conditions in the new covenant we have with you that was signed and sealed in Jesus’ own blood on Calvary’s cross.

So with grateful hearts we the people of your kindom reaffirm our trust and offer again the prayer Christ taught us to pray …

Fiddling While Democracy Burns: A Modern Parable

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, climate change, Faith and Politics, Government Reform

Art often speaks more profoundly about the challenges of life than ordinary words can convey.  And just as often most of us don’t have ears to hear what the artists and visionaries are trying to tell us, at least until fiction becomes our reality.  Among other dystopian prophets I am thinking of George Orwell’s “1984,” Suzanne Collins’ “The Hunger Games,” and Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.”

Or from the Judeo-Christian Scriptures Amos and other prophets pronounce judgment on their own people for their violation of their covenant with Yahweh.  Here’s a sample from Amos:

“Thus says the Lord: For three transgressions of Judah,
    and for four, I will not revoke the punishment,
because they have rejected the instruction of the Lord
    and have not kept his statutes,
but they have been led astray by the same lies
    after which their ancestors walked.
So I will send a fire on Judah,
    and it shall devour the strongholds of Jerusalem.

Thus says the Lord:  For three transgressions of Israel,
    and for four, I will not revoke the punishment,
because they sell the righteous for silver
    and the needy for a pair of sandals—
they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth
    and push the afflicted out of the way;” (Amos 2:4-7)

Anyone tempted to bow down to the idol of Christian Nationalism would do well to ponder these warnings. 

One of my favorite musicals has always been “Fiddler on the Roof.” Its theme of love conquering oppression never seems out of date and is all too relevant today. In fact when I thought about the symbolism of Fiddler I discovered that I wrote about it, not coincidentally, in 2019 during Trump’s first term.  The parallels today are even more stark.  In “Fiddler” the Jewish village of Anatevka is being forced to flee their beloved home because of Russian persecution.  We are living through such terrifying times right now in our once beautiful democracy.

Here’s what I wrote about Fiddler during Trump 1.0:  “Some of Fiddler’s insights are so good I am tempted to call it the Gospel according to Tevye. I was in a discussion the other day about praying for President Trump, and all of us present agreed we should and he certainly needs it. His erratic and delusional Messianic references to himself since then only confirm that conclusion.

One of the first things that came to my mind about praying for the President is a line from Fiddler where a Rabbi says this prayer: “God bless and keep the czar—far away from us.” On a more serious note I think one of the best parts of Fiddler is the opening where the title and its metaphor for life are explained.

“Away above my head I see the strangest sight
A fiddler on the roof who’s up there day and night
He fiddles when it rains, he fiddles when it snows
I’ve never seen him rest, yet on and on he goes

{Refrain}
What does it mean, this fiddler on the roof?
Who fiddles every night and fiddles every noon
Why should he pick so curious a place
To play his little fiddler’s tune

An unexpected breeze could blow him to the ground
Yet after every storm, I see he’s still around
Whatever each day brings, this odd outlandish man
He plays his simple tune as sweetly as he can

{Refrain}

A fiddler on the roof, a most unlikely sight
It might not mean a thing, but then again it might!”

And then Tevye says, “A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without breaking his neck. It isn’t easy. You may ask ‘Why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous?’ Well, we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in one word: tradition!”

Our traditions of love, compassion, hospitality and justice are under attack, but they are the solid rock and anchor we can cling to in each and every storm; and if we do we will still be around after the perils of this present age are no more.”

Today in 2025 when the prospects of anyone stopping the fascist overthrow of our democracy seem pretty slim I need to amend that last sentence.  I no longer am so confident “we will still be around” when this nightmarish storm is finally over.  I continue to hope that enough Republican members of Congress will find the courage to stop the carnage.  They are the only ones standing between us and a total dictatorship. 

Just this weekend Trump has begun ignoring court orders to stop illegal deportations.  He has also revoked pardons for some on his political enemies hit list that were issued by President Biden.  Can the Fiddler keep scratching out a simple tune or has that metaphor shifted to fiddling while our democracy burns?

And most tragic to me is that it is not just democracy burning.  Among his more than I can count acts of treason Trump has destroyed the departments and the international efforts dedicated to fighting climate change.  Mother Nature is no respecter of political ideologies.  Red and blue states are suffering the ravages of extreme weather disasters caused by climate change, and this administration simply doesn’t care.  Trump, Musk and their billionaire class only care about personal wealth and power.  But if we fail to preserve our only home in the universe nothing else is going to matter. 

So here we are, and so far there is a thread of hope symbolized by a bunch of courageous protestors who are individually and collectively fiddlers on the roof, and the question hangs in the air now as it did in Anatevka:

“A Fiddler on the roof, a most unusual sight…. It may not mean a thing, but then again it might.”

*music by Jerry Bock, lyrics by Sheldon Harnick

Eternal Love: A Journey Through Lent

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values, Lenten devotion

I was not in the mood for Lent this year. With everything going on in the world and my own ever-nearing 80th birthday in just 19 months the last thing I wanted to hear was “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” I already felt lost in the wilderness and didn’t think I needed to add any more of lostness to my weary soul.

But even good habits die hard and this annual tradition kept nagging at me; so my wife and I decided to attend our church’s Ash Wednesday service on line, and I’m very glad we did. On-line worship is not usually the best way to worship for me, but I am grateful for that option when I need it. The service at Northwest UMC on Ash Wednesday was an exception to the rule for both Diana and me. It was a very well done service that was contemplative, and being at our kitchen table with only candle light to illumine the room was ideal for that particular kind of worship.

Our church had provided packets for the service that included ashes and a small piece of clay. At one point in the service, after hearing the traditional Scriptures for Ash Wednesday read, we were asked to take the clay and form it into something symbolic that would have meaning for us during the 40 day journey of Lent.

We were give time to pray about that assignment while soft guitar music played. Thanks to the wisdom of several authors I’ve been reading in the chaotic days since January 20 (Richard Rohr, Kate Bowler, Diana Butler Bass, Nadia Bolz-Weber, Brian McLaren, and Sarah Bessey) my mind was led to think about the one constant and trustworthy thing in any time of crisis, namely God’s eternal love.

So I formed my clay into the symbol for infinity which always looks like an 8 lying down to me. Then as I had time to ponder that a little longer it came to me that what I was thinking and feeling was not just a mysterious concept of never-ending infinity or even in Buzz Lightyear’s famous quote “To infinity and Beyond.”

What I was trying to capture in clay was something quite tangible and real – Love. I’ve felt that love more powerfully than ever before through my family and friends who rallied around me during my health crises in the last 8 months. I discovered that my village is a lot bigger and deeper than I realized before. The ministry of presence took on a more beautiful meaning for me in the physical and spiritual companionship that surrounded me and got me through a wilderness journey of my own.

So I decided to shape one end of my clay infinity symbol into a heart (pictured above), and it is still sitting on the kitchen table to remind me several times a day that St. Paul got it right in I Corinthians 13:7-10 when he wrote: ” Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part, but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.”

That worship experience was a much needed reminder for me of that eternal love which is the constant, solid ground under our feet even when the foundations of everything we thought we could trust are shaking like an earthquake, to borrow a phrase from the great theologian Paul Tillich. The Ash Wednesday service I didn’t think I wanted helped me to surrender a lot of the anger and frustration I’ve been dealing with about our current political crisis, and I am very grateful.

Today I put that picture of my clay symbol on my watch and phone as wallpaper to be an even more frequent reminder for me the power of eternal love.

A funny thing happened after that Ash Wednesday service. When my wife Diana looked at my art work she said, “I like your fish.” After I explained to her what I intended my symbol to be I realized that the fish is also a great symbol for eternal love. I was also reminded that art is also mysterious and can mean different things to different people at different times.

The fish symbol has been a Christian symbol for 2000 years because the early Christians used it as a secret code to identify themselves as Jesus followers to one another in a way that they hoped would not be recognized by their Roman persecutors. The origin of the symbol came from the Greek word for fish, Ichthus. It was and still is used because the letters of the word ichthus are the first letters of the Greek phrase “Iēsous Christos theou hy ios sōtēr”, which translates to “Jesus Christ Son of God Savior”. 

So whether I see a fish or an infinity symbol when I see this piece of clay doesn’t matter. They both speak to me of God’s eternal love that will sustain me through these 40 days of Lent and through whatever the future holds until I return to dust and beyond. I hope it might do the same for you.

Trump’s Ukraine Negotiations: A Recipe for Disaster

by Steve Harsh, posted in Government Reform, peacemaking, spiritual discipline

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.” Jesus, Matthew 5:9

If you haven’t seen the video of the Trump-Vance vs. Zelensky “negotiations” in the Oval Office yet, please stop here and see it for yourself.  Try to suspend whatever opinions about the encounter you have heard or read about from commentators, although I know that is hard to do.  It is even harder to divorce oneself from personal bias, and if you have read any of my posts in the last few months you probably know my political bias.  These thoughts however came to me as I watched the White House meeting live and before I had heard other commentary.

President Trump has said repeatedly and again today that he wants peace in Ukraine.  By that he means he wants the killing to stop; he wants the credit; and he also wants to be paid back for what the U.S. has provided to Ukraine in the last three years, even though that was never part of the deal.  The Biden administration and a bipartisan Congress gave armaments to Ukraine so they could defend themselves from a Russian invasion.  Yes, Russia is to blame for this war, even though that is not the case in Trump’s alternative facts universe.  The point here is that the military aid was a gift, not a loan.  There is nothing to repay to the U.S. or the other nations who have supported Kyiv through these three long, bloody years. We did it because it was the right thing to do, period. 

And yet here we are again with Trump trying to coerce a deal with Ukraine for some rare earth minerals in exchange for continued support just like he did in his first term when he tried to get dirt of the Bidens from Zelensky as pay back for U.S. support.  That was the reason Trump was impeached the first time, remember? 

So enter these three key players today – Trump, Vance, and Zelensky.  I said to my wife as soon as I saw J.D. Vance was there that he had no business being there, and if Trump really wanted peace he would not have included his Vice-President in this delicate meeting.  The inexperienced Vance has already insulted Ukraine and most of Europe in his disastrous speech in Munich a couple of weeks ago.  He has so little political experience that his fellow Republicans called his Munich blunder “a rookie mistake.”  So why have this rookie even in this critical meeting in the first place? Apparently so he and Trump could gang up on Zelensky, and in fact it was Vance’s intrusion into the conversation when the meeting was nearly over that set off the shouting match.  Vance is the apprentice who should be fired.

Side bar: I heard later that someone had the audacity to criticize Zelensky for how he was dressed, saying it was disrespectful for him not to wear a suit and tie for this important meeting.  Have you seen how Elon Musk dresses for cabinet meetings and other events in the Oval Office?  Methinks Zelensky was set up to be ambushed from the get go, and that’s what bullies do, not what peacemakers do.

The other Scripture that came to mind as I watched is the very familiar passage from I Corinthians 13 where Paul says, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”  Both our President and VP were boastful, arrogant, and rude.  They both insist on their own way and keep records of every real or imagined wrong ever done to them.  And let’s not forget the matter of truth.  Trump has repeatedly said that the U.S. has provided Ukraine $300-360 billion in aid when the real number appropriated by Congress is less than $200 billion.  Trump was caught on video last week calling Zelensky a “dictator,” but when asked by a reporter Thursday if he still thought the Ukrainian president was a dictator, Trump straight-faced said, “Did I say that? I can’t believe I ever said that.” He never did answer the question.  As for the demand from both Americans that Zelensky needed to be grateful for our aid the fact checkers tell us the Ukranian President has already expressed gratitude publicly over 30 times. 

You will of course get two different assessments of how President Trump did in this made for television spectacle.  His Republican allies loved his “tough” handling of Zelensky while his Democratic critics saw what transpired as a disaster for our country and for our former Western Allies.  But here’s all you need to know about the impact yesterday’s events will have on the future of democracy.  First, a Russian reporter was allowed into the oval office for this delicate meeting (which should have been held in private) so Trump’s reprise of his role in the Apprentice could be reported directly back to the Kremlin.  Second, the loudest cheers for the Trump-Vance tag team performance came from Putin and his oligarchs in Moscow, and all the while the bombing and destruction of Ukraine continues into a fourth year.

My father and all the other brave men and women who risked their lives to defeat fascism in WWII are turning over in their graves. 

March 1, 2025

Contentment in Any Role

by Steve Harsh, posted in Aging to Sageing, Christian Discipleship, Faith and Values, Gratitude, purpose

“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts…”

Those lines from Shakespeare’s “Mid Summer Night’s Dream” have been floating around in my head for quite some time. But I did not remember until I looked up the quote that it is the beginning of a monologue about the stages of life from infancy to death.

Being 78 and a cancer patient I have spent more time than I like thinking about my mortality, and that whole monologue that describes 7 stages of life fits right into that conversation in my head.

The questions I want to ask about that metaphor are two: What do you do or how do you cope when you don’t get the part you really want? And what about the times you get stuck with a part in the play of life that you really don’t want?

I’m guessing we’ve all been in both of those situations. When I was a sophomore in college a young woman I had been in a serious relationship for almost two years informed me I was no longer needed in the play of her life. She had a good reason, and I appreciated her sharing it with me. I was still devastated, but she helped me understand the break up wasn’t just about me personally; but about a career path I had chosen that she wanted no part of.

Earlier that year I had decided to switch majors from engineering to philosophy in preparation for going on to seminary after college. In other words I had opted for a very different part in a totally different play, and she did not want to play the role of a pastor’s wife. There are very good reasons to say no to what can be a very challenging unpaid, high expectations job, and I understand that better now than I did way back then. I also understand that I undoubtedly made the situation worse by making that important career decision without ever discussing it with her. Yes, I was still working from an old script where wives are subservient to their husbands.

The second half of the 20th century was a confusing time to be playing a romantic role. The old scripts of how men and women related were being thrown out, and new ones were still being written. Societal norms about sex, race, war, and peace were all in a state of flux. Life was like improv theater – we were all making it up on the fly.

That flux had major impact on the job market as well. We didn’t call it DEI back then, but in liberal circles where I played my roles as student and pastor and teacher the civil rights and women’s rights movements spurred efforts to increase diversity in the workplace and on faculties. As a white male that was a personal disadvantage to me. I had my heart set on a particular professorship when I finished my doctoral work and thought I had a good shot at it. I had been teaching at this school as an adjunct professor for two years, and my student evaluations were excellent.

Little did I know that the position had already been promised to a black woman who had taught there before me as an adjunct and left to do her PhD. I was disappointed, especially since I had turned down a role as a pastor at a church I had always admired earlier that year. Sometimes we don’t get to play the part we want or even be in that particular play, but in this case I did understand and agreed with the school’s priority on building a more diverse faculty. When I had been a student there 20 years earlier the entire faculty and administration was white and male, and the student body was 98% the same.

But to circle back to Shakespeare’s take on the stages of life as the roles we play from birth to death, I find his list rather limiting. He spends little time on the variety of parts we might play in adulthood, and I realize that life expectancy back then was much shorter than it is today. With advances in health care a productive adult life can last 50 or 60 years and may include several different careers, sometimes simultaneously.

I was a pastor, a teacher, and a university administrator in a period of 38 years of full time employment, and then spent 11 years in retirement doing all of those things on a part-time basis. But concurrent with those roles I was also a son, husband, father, brother, author, golfer, skier, softball player tennis player, runner, and friend.

But here’s my existential question for this stage I am acting on just now. In the last 8 months I have played parts I didn’t want, namely icu patient, cancer patient, and one dealing with a whole host of other old age maladies. What do we do when life throws us a curve and we find ourselves playing parts in our life drama that we never auditioned for? As I told my son a few months ago — I liked the roles I played in my 40’s and 50’s a whole lot better than this role as a senior citizen.

I can’t think about this dilemma without remembering St. Paul who had some affliction he calls “a thorn in the flesh.” We don’t know what the thorn was, but here is what Paul says about it: “Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Corinthians 12:7-9)

I don’t know about you, but if I were in Paul’s situation I wouldn’t be too thrilled with that answer. But God’s ways are not our ways, and being a man of great faith Paul was able to make peace with that thorn. He writes in Philippians 4:11, “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.” I’m not there yet with the parts I am playing in this stage of my life.

I am not content with my chronic pain. I am not content giving up most of the activities I used to enjoy. I am not content watching the country I love being destroyed by wanna be dictators and oligarchs. I am very uncontent to watch God’s beautiful creation on earth being destroyed by corporate greed that values short term profits over long term preservation of the planet.

Given all those things that disturb my contentment and peace which are important I have to realize that the stress they create in me are not healthy and in fact make me less able to respond to any of them. In spite of all the problems in our nation and the world there is still great beauty and kindness if I shift my attention to observe them and express gratitude for them. And that’s the point of Paul’s wise words just before the ones about being content. And therein lies the secret to his peace and contentment.

Here is what he says: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. As for the things that you have learned and received and heard and noticed in me, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:8-9)

That’s a pretty good script to play from at any age and on any stage. Break a leg.

Searching for Calm in Crisis

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Government Reform, hope

I’ve been struggling a lot since January 20 to keep my sanity, and I know I’m not alone. No matter how many times I tell myself that I need to not dwell on the political mayhem I don’t seem to be able to stop myself from checking my phone or turning on the tv or radio to see what the latest chaotic news out of Washington is.

When a friend asked me recently how I was, my reply was something like this: “I’m dismayed, disgusted, depressed, disillusioned, displeased, despondent, and distressed. (Full disclosure – this was at the beginning of a zoom call and knowing I would probably be asked some version of “how are you” I had rehearsed my answer knowing that this friend would immediately understand what I was saying.

While I certainly intend no implication that my situation resembles what Jesus was dealing with in the Gospels, the need for finding peace and relief from my anxiety brought to mind two passages in Mark’s Gospel.

“In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” (Mark 1:35-37)

“The apostles gathered around Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things.” (Mark 6:30-34)

Jesus can’t escape the demands on his time and healing power no matter where he goes. I bet he was glad he didn’t have a cell phone so people could text or call him 24/7 with their requests for help!

But seriously, how do mere mortals like you and me cope with a world gone mad. When there seems to be no end to the pain and suffering the Trump/Musk duo and their minions are willing to inflict on the most vulnerable people in our country and around the world, and we feel powerless to stop them, what can we do?

A friend recently shared a breath prayer from author Sarah Bessey: “Inhale: Show me who to be. Exhale: And what is mine to do.” (From “Field Notes from the Wilderness”). I find the prayer relaxing, but I still am searching for a clear answer to those questions for living my life in 2025.

Paul tells us in Romans that when we don’t know how to pray the Spirit intervenes for us with “sighs too deep for words.” But right now those sighs are too deep for me to understand.

I keep coming back to one of my go to verses in Micah 6:8 where we are told what God requires of us and number one on the list is “to do justice.” But what does that look like in a world where injustice seems to have all the power? Nothing new, of course. That’s the story of human history, but it’s not something I ever expected to have to deal with in my democratic country.

I should have known better. History is full of examples of civilizations and empires that have ceased to exist in any recognizable form. And God knows the United States in spite of many admirable qualities and achievements has an ugly underbelly of racism, genocide, and imperialism that never seems to go away. And here we are in 2025 with a would be dictator using all of those ugly sins of our fathers to try and destroy the foundations of our democracy from the most powerful position in our government.

In the Judeo-Christian Scriptures when God’s people build golden calves or pursue earthly power by putting their faith in monarchs or foreign alliances things never end well. The nation of Israel is split into two opposing countries, carried into exile, and overrun in succession by Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks and Romans.

But in all of those biblical disasters somehow there is always a faithful remnant that survives the injustice to renew the covenant with God. If we are living in such a time I am haunted by doubts that I am brave enough to be part of such a faithful remnant. What price am I willing to pay to stand up to the forces of evil?

The good news about being in a time like this is that it is a crucible where the rubber of faith meets the road. All questions are laid bare. Do I really believe in resurrection, or in that moving verse in Romans 8 that I have quoted so often that nothing, “not powers or principalities, or life or death, nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God?”

One of my favorite images of faith is the story of Jesus and his disciples caught in a storm out on the Sea of Galilee and these brave fishermen who make their living on the sea are scared to death. When they look around for Jesus to save them they find him sound asleep in the back of the boat. He is literally sleeping through the storm.

As much as I’d like to be that calm in this or any crisis, I am much more ore like the father in Mark 9 who brought his son to Jesus to be healed. When Jesus tells him all things are possible to those who believe the father cries out, “I believe Lord, help my unbelief!”

Or there is this example from American history. “These are the times that try men’s souls” is a quote from Thomas Paine’s “The American Crisis.” Paine wrote this during the Revolutionary War to encourage the American colonists to persevere and fight for victory. Well, we are in another American crisis 250 years later, and the question is will we persevere and keep the faith in the aspirational dreams of equality for all people written by Thomas Jefferson and signed by all the founding fathers who pledged “their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor.”

The answers to all those questions for me and for our nation are yet to be revealed, but I want to close with a powerful statement from James Weldon Johnson that I read recently in “Sojourners” magazine. His words inspire me.

“I will not let prejudice or any of its attendant humiliations and injustices bear me down to spiritual defeat. My inner life is mine, and I shall defend and maintain its integrity against all the powers of hell.”

May it be so for me and thee.

The Trump-Musk Coup: A Call to Action for Democracy

by Steve Harsh, posted in Christian Discipleship, Faith and Politics, Government Reform

“I don’t ever want to lose sight of how short my time is here. I don’t ever want to forget that resistance must be its own reward, since resistance at least within the lifespan of the resistors, almost always fails…” (Ta-Nehisi Coates, “We Were Eight Years in Power: An American Tragedy”)

Spoiler alert: this post may seem unfocused and fragmented because by design the Trump-Musk coup is throwing so much chaos at us all at once that it is nearly impossible to stay focused or to know how to resist. Like Will Rogers said, “I am not a member of any organized political party — I am a Democrat.” So we have once more underestimated the depth of organization and evil of the Trump led GOP – Gutless Obsolete Party.

My only hope for democracy’s survival is that the better-late-than-never legal challenges to the Musk led destruction of our government will save at least part of our constitutional democracy. I am still searching for what I personally can do to resist. I write here still believing the pen is mightier than the sword, but knowing full well that Trump’s racist, hateful sharpie with which he signs a daily barrage of unconstitutional executive orders carries more weight than my meager words.

I hate what the Musk/Trump duo is doing even as I pity both of them for the total lack of any compassion or human kindness in them. I do pray for them because they both must have led horrible lives of empty searching for love and affirmation to be so void of any empathy for their fellow human beings.

But what bothers me much, much more is the response or lack thereof by the Republican members of Congress to this obvious attack on our democracy. The January 6 insurrection failed by violent means to overthrow our government; so Trump spent the last four years planning a bloodless coup that has moved with astonishing speed in just three weeks. And the tragedy is that it would only take four of the 53 Republicans in the US Senate to have the guts to put their precious seats of power on the line to stop the parade of dangerous, incompetent cabinet appointees from being handed the keys to power. That has not happened because we are told they are afraid of being primaried and losing their seats.

The irony of course is that by failing to do their constitutional duty to provide checks and balances on an unbalanced President they are handing over any power they have. The precious jobs they sell their souls for are empty and meaningless, and if they think this coup will stop before eviscerating the role of Congress completely they simply are not paying attention.

Former Senate majority leader Mitch McConnell was interviewed last week on 60 minutes by Leslie Stahl who asked some hard ball questions. She reminded McConnell (1) of his brave speech after the January 6 insurrection when he said Trump was unfit to ever serve as President again and (2) that he soon changed his tune to say that if Trump was the Republican nominee he would support him. When Stahl asked him why he changed McConnell’s lame excuse was “Because I’m a Republican.”

No, Mitch, first and foremost you are an American who took an oath to defend the U.S. Constitution, and you and your cowardly colleagues should be impeached for failing to keep that promise. McConnell gets an extra helping of my ire because of his conspiracy with Trump to stack as many of the federal courts, from the Supremes on down, with equally spineless yes people who have granted Trump immunity and enabled him to avoid any real repercussions for his many crimes.

And it is all so unnecessary. If McConnell had shown courageous leadership after January 6 Trump would have been impeached and prevented from ever doing any further damage to our democracy. So the Gutless Obsolete Party is getting what they deserve, but at the expense of all Americans and millions of people around the world who will literally die because of the selfish, transactional motives of Trump and his acolytes who are cutting off critical life-saving aid to impoverished people all over the world.

If we were truly a Christian nation we would know that we help other people because they need help, not for whatever they might be able to do for us in return. The Good Samaritan didn’t stop to ask what was in it for him if he helped the man in the ditch. He did it because he could, and it was the right thing to do. We must demand nothing less from ourselves as the richest nation in the world.