People of the Wednesday Night

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
In an article entitled "A Catholic Looks at Baptist Spirituality," the author--Dr. Samuel Weber--calls Baptists "People of the Wednesday night." He implores Baptists to cherish and protect this part of their common life: "I urge you to preserve the Wednesday night. Guard it faithfully and keep it continually. Do not allow the pressures of modern living to take over. You do the world a great favor and bring many blessings on all of us when . . . you gather together to hear the word of God, to pray, and to break bread in . . . the ‘company of those who believe.’”

In imploring Baptists to remain, “People of the Wednesday night,” Dr. Weber is taking a page out of the book of Acts. There we read of a vital early church that "Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread and ate their food with glad and generous hearts" (2:46). This "breaking of bread" continued Jesus' own emphasis on shared meals and shared fellowship. Not coincidentally, he put a meal--the Lord's Supper--at the center of his kingdom.

Gathering with fellow believers to rub shoulders, pass the potatoes, and say our prayers continues to be a vital part of the Christian life. However, finding time for shared meals at home--and at church--is a growing challenge. On the way to the computer revolution, everyone got busier than ever. So much for the “paperless” office or the 40 hour work week! Plus the competition for the time and energies of students and their families continues to intensify. Who would have believed 15-20 years ago there would be sports practices and ball games on Wednesday evenings and even Sunday mornings in the heart of the Bible belt?

Despite such challenges, our staff and lay leaders continue to tweak our Wednesday night offerings in an effort to keep “church family night” alive and well at the top of Poplar. Our menus are being revamped and the top choices of the congregation will be served starting October 1. And while the supper line opens at 5:15 p.m, you can get served as late as 6:00 p.m. Children and youth events begin at 5:50 p.m. Adults continue in the Fellowship Hall (a revealing name, don’t you think?) for prayer and praise at 6:00 p.m. Adult studies and programs, along with Chancel Choir practice, begin at 6:30 p.m.

The enclosed insert details upcoming Wednesday night adult offerings. In addition to the Fellowship Hall topics, a fascinating Walter Brueggemann study will be offered along with a new Bible Study for Internationals. We’re hoping these offerings will add numbers, depth, and diversity to our Wednesday night experience.

I hope we will always be the “People of the Wednesday night” because it’s hard to be family without eating together at least once a week!

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Standard Roach Letter

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Warning: Do not read the following column while consuming your dinner salad.

When a prepackaged airline lunch was served on an international flight, a passenger opened her salad container and discovered a cockroach. Her yelp of disgust and outrage brought the head stewardess running who did her best to calm the passenger and contain the damage.

Immediately upon arriving home, the still fuming passenger fired off an angry letter to the President of the airline. In very short order, she received a reply by special courier rather than regular mail.

The President of the airline was most remorseful and responsive. His letter read, “Dear Ms. Smith, This was very unusual, but don't worry. I want to assure you that particular plane has been completely fumigated. In fact all the seats and the upholstery have been stripped out. We've taken disciplinary action against the steward who served you and he may even be fired. It's highly probable that this aircraft will be taken out of service. I can assure you that it will never happen again. And I trust, Ms. Smith, that you will continue to fly with our airline.”

Just as Ms. Smith was feeling somewhat vindicated, she noticed her original letter had inadvertently been enclosed with the President’s response. On the back of her letter was scrawled his note: “Please reply with the standard roach letter”!

I’m guessing she did not fly with that airline again.

In a world where computers spit out “form letters” pretending to be personal, a truly personal letter is an increasingly rare treasure. From time-to-time I hope you receive such a letter. From time-to-time I hope you write such a letter.

Write a card or note of encouragement to friend going through a hard time. Write a letter of thanks to a beloved teacher from your childhood. Write a thoughtful personal letter to your Congressional Representative. Write a family member a special letter celebrating his or her birthday. Write a letter to God and tuck it in the back of your Bible. In a world of relentless yet fleeting email, a personal letter--especially one that is hand-written--conveys a depth of caring and substance cyber-communications lack.

Fully 20 of the 27 books of the New Testament consist of personal letters. Granted, those letters are written to people in another place and time, but the pastoral concern and spiritual passion of the writers yet bleed through the pages. And in the power and presence of the Holy Spirit, breathing upon those old, old words, they can yet become God’s very personal word to You, second personal singular (Luke 24:32; John 14:26).

Surely it is no accident God sent his Son into the world--and the New Testament witness was penned--long before email put personal letters on the endangered species list.

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Jesus the Carpenter

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
With the Labor Day holiday upon us, I find myself reflecting on the fact Jesus spent far more of his life in ordinary labor than in certifiably religious work. Depending on how one reads the Gospels and does the math, Jesus spent 1-3 years in a ministry that began at the age of thirty. Thus, for most of his adult, Jesus lived and worked in a blue-collar world as a carpenter.

Today, a “carpenter” can mean anything from a day laborer to a skilled craftsman and small businessman. Jesus was more like the latter. Recent scholarship has concluded the Greek word tekton, translated in English Bibles as “carpenter” (Mark 6:3), would better be rendered “builder” or “contractor.” For one thing, wood suitable for construction was rare and very expensive in the Palestine of Jesus’ day. Most building was done with stone and brick. And most such work was found not in the tiny mountain village of Nazareth, but in the nearby metropolis of Sepphoris. In that bustling city, King Herod was always throwing up a new Roman theater or other government building.

In all events, Jesus spent most of his life as a “working man.” (Everyone knows teaching and preaching are not “real work,” so that doesn’t count!).

I believe much of the earthiness in Jesus’ teaching--the grounding of his truth in everyday life and pressing human need--came from his real world work experience. As he walked to and from work projects in Sephorris, he observed the farmers, shepherds, and landscapes that would populate his parables. On the construction site, he learned the importance of properly bidding a job (Luke 14:28-29) and how much more savvy good business people could be than the religious types holed up in Jerusalem (Luke 16:1-9).

During my teen and college years, I delivered newspapers, sacked groceries, mowed grass, mopped floors, and worked in a convenience store. But I’ve had this cushy one-day-a-week job in the Temple for a long, long time.

Fortunately, my dad spent his working life as a tool-and-die-maker. Though he died last year, he is with me still. Usually, when I am working on a sermon or lesson, I hear him whisper, “Do you really need that big word?” “Does the guy working at the plant need to hear that?” “In the real world where real people live, who cares?” The dad who shows up in the back of my mind to say such things, doesn’t always win the debate, but I can count on him to ask the hard questions.

Most persons serving in religious vocations come from working-class families. Whatever the reason, it’s a plus. The temptation is strong in religious work to keep one’s head in the clouds. It helps to have a dad and Jesus keeping one’s feet firmly planted on the ground.

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Health Care? Jesus Complicates It

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
Like most Americans, I’m trying to sort through the current health care debate. But for me, this issue is complicated by the fact I am not just an American consumer of health care; I am also Christian. So I don’t have the luxury of reducing the current debate to “What’s in it for me?” That question gets things in focus pretty quickly. But I have to ask the Jesus question as well: “What’s in it for my neighbor?” It was the Master after all, who said the essence of a godly life was to (1) love God and (2) love your neighbor as yourself.

Does that mean I’m about to lobby for a “big government” solution to the nation’s health care ills? A lot of people seem to make that leap: bring Jesus into the discussion and anybody who is sick should get whatever help they need at taxpayers’ expense. And yes, Jesus did challenge the entrenched interests of his day, stood by and with the poor, and taught us to pray, “Thy Kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” But as to the public policy mechanisms for making that happen, Jesus’ teaching is mostly silent. No surprise in that. He lived under Roman occupation, not American democracy.

The one time Jesus was pressed on a hot button political issue--paying taxes to Caesar--he asked for a coin. “Whose picture is on it?,” asked Jesus. When told the emperor’s image was on the coin, Jesus said, “Then give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God, the things that are God’s!” In my mind’s eye, Jesus then flips the coin back to his interrogators. He hasn’t so much answered their question, as deepened it. The answer is still theirs--and ours--to forge.

Do I believe Jesus cares about the health care plight of so many uninsured and under-insured Americans? Absolutely. And neighbor-love, which is at the heart of following him, requires that I care too. And more than “care,” that like the Good Samaritan, I do what I can to get sick and wounded people the help they need. But as to the exact shape of that moral obligation in the current health care debate, I have more questions than answers.

How can we be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” in lobbying for needed changes in our nation’s health care system? How can we make sure children, the special objects of God’s compassion, are not penalized for being born into poor families without adequate medical care? How do we balance “neighbor love” with taking responsibility for oneself and one’s own family?

I know a lot of people have this all figured out. I don’t. But then most of the time, Jesus doesn’t simplify my life so much as he complicates it. That is why following him is so much more fulfilling--and infuriating--than following the Answer Man we keep wanting our Messiah to be.

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What's in a Name?

by Bob Setzer Jr.
With a last name like “Setzer,” I am familiar with having one’s name butchered by well-meaning if ill-informed people. My name has been variously mispronounced as Seltzer, Setzie, Settie, Setzler . . . the list goes on and on.

Given that, one would think I might be particularly sensitive to getting people’s name’s right. In fact, I am. I am also fallible. Despite my best intentions, sometimes the brain skips a track and I forget or misspeak a name.

It happened recently during a funeral. Following a fine eulogy by Mercer Law professor, Joseph Claxton, I began my remarks by referencing his. Unfortunately, I mispronounced his name not once but several times, calling him “Mr. Callaway.” Members of the First Church family in attendance who realized the error were appropriately mortified.

Later, after learning of my mistake, I sought out Professor Claxton and profusely apologized. He was more amused than annoyed. I explained I had a professor in seminary named Joseph Callaway. It was an honest mistake and Professor Claxton graciously waved it aside.

He then told me about being in boot camp, 40 years before, where the drill sergeant regularly called him “Clayton” rather “Claxton.” After enduring this indignity for some weeks--as wise recruits do--Mr. Claxon was finally fed up. As gingerly as possible, he informed the drill sergeant of the mispronunciation. The drill sergeant glared and growled, “C-L-A-Y-T-O-N, drop for twenty! You are C-L-A-Y-T-O-N as long as I say you are C-L-A-Y-T-O-N!”

Ten pushups into the prescribed punishment, the drill sergeant called Mr. Claxton by his proper name and told him to get up. That was as close to an apology as any self-respecting drill sergeant could get!

Sooner or later, if one’s name is more challenging than “Jones” or “Smith,” someone will likely mispronounce it. Even pastors and professors can unwittingly dole out such an injury. Thankfully, our Lord cannot. For the Bible contends again and again that God knows people by name, loves names, and never forgets a name.

God says to Moses, “I know you by name” (Ex 33:17). God says to Cyrus, “It is I, the God of Israel, who calls you by your name” (Isa 45:3). There are whole pages of the Bible with nothing but names. Take a look at 1 Chronicles chapters 1-8 for a sampling: names, names, and more names. In fact, there is precious little besides names on those pages.

Maybe it’s meant as a reminder: Someone remembers. Someone will forever value your mark upon the world. Someone knows--and will never forget--your name. Someone knows and will never forget, You.

I try to remember that vital truth when an ordinary mortal mispronounces my name. In a universe where Almighty God never forgets, it is an offense easily forgiven.

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God's Subversive Truth

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
I keep being amazed at how Bible stories and Bible truths keep showing up in real life. This shouldn’t be amazing, since it happens all the time. I must be a slow learner. Or maybe my confidence in the Bible is subtly eroded by a culture that seeks wisdom everywhere else.

A recent case in point of a Bible truth hidden behind the headlines: “Mortals look on the outward appearance but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). This subversive truth about God is sounded in the story of God selecting the shepherd boy, David, as king.

Meanwhile, on a porch in Cambridge, Massachusetts, this truth from the 11th century B. C. makes its presence felt in an ugly way. A prominent professor and an able, well-intentioned police officer erupt in an altercation because each thinks the worst of the other. And at the heart of the misunderstanding is the matter of appearances: one party to the dispute is black, the other white.

From the “black” perspective, people of color in general and black men in particular are sick and tired of having others assume the worst about them, simply because of the color of their skin. From the “white” perspective, you don’t erupt in angry, disrespectful behavior at a police officer trying to do his job, even if you are dog-tired and fuming at being questioned about “breaking into” your own house! There is, of course, a measure of truth in both those perspectives. But as to exactly what happened on that now infamous porch, only God knows: “For mortals look on the outward appearance but the Lord looks on the heart.”

Notice that vital Bible truth isn’t primarily a statement about how things ought to be but about how things are: we tend to think the best of people like ourselves and are most suspicious toward those who are different. This is especially true when we are under stress or even attack. Because of this, racially-fueled misunderstandings are not likely to disappear soon, if ever. Sadly, such a preference for “our own kind” may even be hard-wired into our DNA.

What then is our hope? Moral perfection? No, grace. Grace to listen to those who are different from ourselves. Grace to admit our mistakes and learn from them. Grace to yearn for and pray for and work toward a Kingdom where people are valued for who they are on the inside, not on the outside. Grace to be part of a community that while not color-blind is color-full, celebrating all the shades of God’s multi-complexioned family. In short, grace to be more like Jesus and less like our often defensive, fearful, and yes, racially-biased selves.

Granted, this is a high hope, but such is the call of the Gospel. I learned that from the Bible too.

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And That's The Way It Is

by Bob Setzer, Jr.
With the death of Walter Cronkite, I lost a piece of my childhood. Growing up, he was the presence, the Voice, who reassured my family and me all was right with the world.

Of course, even then, we knew everything wasn’t alright: Vietnam, Kent State, riots in the streets, JFK and MLK, Jr. shot down in cold blood. But somehow, Walter’s calm, grandfatherly demeanor helped us believe the sun would rise again tomorrow. There was still hope. The latest crisis wasn’t the end of the world.

How reassuring to hear at 6:59 each evening, “And that’s the way it is.” Contrast that with the wimpy sign offs of today’s anchors: “I hope you have a good day” or “We hope to see you right back here tomorrow night.” When Katie Couric came on as the CBS anchor in 2006, she even appealed to her viewers to suggest her tagline. How the world has changed. Today, anybody with a cell phone camera and a Twitter account can be a “journalist.”

True, Walter’s trademark phrase was a little over the top. It’s impossible to distill the essence of the world situation down to 22 minutes, not counting commercials. But his weighty pronouncement held out the hope there is such a thing as real, objective truth in a world of ever-changing perceptions. Yes, “the truth” is best arrived at by interviewing multiple witnesses, listening to alternative interpretations of a given event, and making sure women and people of color--and not just middle-aged white guys like Walter and me--have their say. But at the end of the day, there is real truth to be found if the news isn’t reduced to entertainment or political posturing.

The New Testament pulsates with just such a conviction. There is not just one witness, but four to the epoch-making, world-reshaping event of Jesus Christ: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Each speaks with a distinctive voice arising from his own life experience and the pressures and questions driving his witness. But all four Gospels share the conviction God has come near in a decisive way in Jesus Christ, and that his life, death, and resurrection change everything. As the book of Hebrews declares in its opening salvo, “Long ago God spoke in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days God has spoken to us by a Son” (Heb. 1:2).

The church doesn’t exist to pretend there are certain special people who have everything figured out. But in a world where increasingly the mantra is, “One person’s truth is as good as another’s,” we do have a holy obligation to keep our heads and hearts clear about the One who is “the way, the Truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

Walter Cronkite understood the elemental human hunger to know the Big Truth above and beyond all the little truths. Let’s hope God’s Good News people do also.

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