Funny You Should Ask

Even twenty-six years after her death, it's safe to say that Lucille Ball is still one of the most beloved personalities of all time.  Her groundbreaking work in television set the stage for much of what the world today considers to be funny.  And yet, when asked about what made her so funny, here's what that great comedian, actress and business woman told a reporter for Rolling Stone: 

"I am not funny.  My writers were funny.  My directors were funny.  The situations were funny....what I am is brave.  I have never been scared.  Not when I did movies, certainly not when I was a model, and not when I did "I Love Lucy."

Brave, indeed.  As it turns out Lucy had at least one of the great qualities of leadership: the ability to give credit where credit is due.  It is no small act of bravery to look around at one's life--at the successes that define us--and publicly recognize the reality that we have only succeeded with the help of others.  It's easy to blame others for our failures.  Naming those who helped bring about our success takes guts.

The truly brave among us live in the reality that the only thing "self-made" about us is the trap we fall into when we believe that we made it on our own. 

Avoidance

Over one hundred years ago tonight a marvel of modern technology laid in ruins at the bottom of the frigid North Atlantic.  As a stunned world blinked in utter disbelief, the "ship not even God can sink" was sunk. 

Decades of speculation drawn from the pieced-together stories of those who had survived tried to understand how the unthinkable could happen.  There was no shortage of theories.  It is only just recently that we have confirmation: the water-tight compartments would have kept Titanic afloat had she hit that iceberg head-on.  But because there was an attempt to avoid a collision, the gigantic steamer scraped alongside the berg and a gash was torn open in her hull--a gash that breached across the technology that had been designed to save Titanic. 

It's hard to imagine that a head-on collision would have saved Titanic--and the hundreds who sank with her.  But then again, more than a few lives have been sunk in the desperate attempt to avoid life's obstacles.

Apparently even technology can't save us from the disaster that looms when we fail to face our problems head-on.

What are you avoiding today?

Away

It's the land of wishful thinking, a place of hopelessly hapless dreams.  It's the land of crossed fingers and bated breath, of deferred payment and dismissed responsibility.  And it doesn't exist.

We have fooled and we have been fooled.  We have deluded ourselves into believing that there is a mystical, magical place where payment is never due and everything works out fine. Not a one of us has ever been there and no one has ever returned to offer a description, yet through the very clever, desperate, and sometimes despotic workings of our collective imagination we have created a convenient fantasy destination  We have bought the lie.

There is no Away.

There is no Away where we can banish those with whom we disagree, never to see them again.

There is no Away where we can send our neatly-wrapped problems, where they will be solved, rewrapped and returned, no postage due.

There is no Away where we can ship our broken lives for repair, waiting by the door for their neatly-packaged delivery.

There is no Away where we can send our refuse--the detritis of our overconsumption--where its effects will not be known.

I can't banish my enemies to a place called Away, and neither can you--because there is no Away.

I can't wish my problems Away, and neither can you--because there is no Away.

I can't throw my garbage Away, and neither can you--because there is no Away.

There is only Here.

We can continue the lie, that's true, and sooner or later the rising tide of reality will drown us all.  Or we can face the truth--and hope it's not too late.

Rise Up

It was early in the morning, and a Sunday to boot--so I might have expected those sprawling parking lots to be empty.  But it didn't seem quite right as I jogged my regular sunrise route through the conspicuously empty space. 

And then it hit me; it was Easter Sunday. 

In days gone by those lots would have been jammed packed with the cars of those who'd come from near and far.  Many will remember the great Easter Sunrise service at the Hollywood Bowl--each year drawing thousands from across the Christian landscape to trumpet the age-old early morning exclamation:  "Jesus is Risen."  This year not a soul had risen to come.

Another tradition gone, I thought, my shrug of indifference surprising even me.

Another dead tradition seems particularly poignant this year with the recent death of Robert Schuller and the reminder that a vision of a grand and glorious Christianity--with parking lots and pews overflowing with eager parishioners--is as dead as he is. 

I must admit, a small part of me is sad.  Death has that effect on me.  But the greater part of me is glad, because our traditions need to die.  And frankly, most of what passes for Christianity isn't really Christianity, it's merely tradition....and in the end it will die with us anyway. 

What will live on, however, is true and authentic Christianity--that which is based on the teachings of Jesus.  NOT what we say about him.  NOT the so-called "articles of faith" that we have devised about him.  NOT the traditions we make up that just happen to mention him....just Jesus. 

That's a challenging message for many, Christian and non-Christian alike.  But that's OK, because Jesus was all about challenge.  He didn't care about sunrise services and full pews and cathedrals (Crystal or otherwise) or whether people got their theology right.  Jesus cared about justice.  Jesus cared about truth.  Jesus cared about love.

Wouldn't it be great if what rose up in the place of yet another dead tradition was an authentic community proclaiming love and truth and justice, instead of yet another tradition that packs in the crowds today but will be gone as quickly as you can say "God loves you, and so do I?"

Then it might be Easter after all.