The Seven-Storey Tall Basket

 Yesterday I was traveling east from Columbus, Ohio, and as I was driving through Newark I suddenly noticed a hugh basket along the highway a short distance in front of me. As I passed it I decided to take te next exit and loop back on a local road for a closer look. 

This building formerly was the corporate headquarters of the Longaberger Basket Company, but the building was abandoned by the basket maker in 2016. It is on the market for $6.5 million. At one time there was consideration to using the seven-storey building as a hotel, but those plans have fallen through. So now it sits vacant and many people complain that the grounds that were once immaculate now appear trashy.

Advent Reflections

In this season of Advent, we focus our prayers, our seeking, our reflections, and our actions on the coming of the One called the Messiah -- the One who is the focus of our faith, our salvation, and our hope. If you are like me, there are times you sit back and ponder… reflect… ask yourself, “Who is this One whose coming we celebrate in this season of wonder and anticipation? Who is this One the Gospels proclaim? Who is the One the apostles followed and about whom the Epistles teach?”

And we know that “...of the making of books there is no end…” and that scholarship about Jesus changes from generation to generation and that scholars, and doubters, and seekers will continue to look for answers.

Still, we are guided by the conviction that “We live by faith and not by sight.”  (2 Cor 5:7)

But even as I live by faith, I still wonder, and ponder, and ask, 

• Who is this one whose coming we celebrate in this season of wonder and anticipation? 
• Who is this One the Gospels proclaim? 
• Who is the One the apostles followed and about whom the Epistles teach?

Albert Schweitzer, wrote about these questions in his book titled The Quest of the Historical Jesus  published in 1906. That book ended with this declaration: 

“He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside, He came to those ... who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same words: 'Follow thou me!' and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is.”

--Albert Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus  -- 1906

In the end, Schweitzer abandoned his theological career and spent the rest of his life in Africa as a missionary doctor. Albert Schweitzer was awarded the Nobel prize in 1952 as a consequence of his work for peace, for the abandonment of atomic testing and his opposition to the creation of weapons arsenals.

Please pray with me…

Holy One, You who walked by the Lakeside and called to people saying, “Follow me...” 

        ... in this season we remember that your earthly presence began in a humble way...

Born to humble parents...

• Who were under an edict to comply with a census at Bethlehem...
• 90 miles away from their home in Nazareth...
• 90 miles by foot from Nazareth to Bethlehem for Joseph and his pregnant wife…
• And we remember that there was no room for them in the inn.

Holy One, We remember that your earthly presence began as you were laid in a manger... 

• Wrapped in bands of cloth…
• Surrounded by cattle...
• And shepherds...
• And angels…
• And … surrounded by uncertainty.

Holy One, two thousand years later we are still remembering that birth...

• As we too are surrounded...
• Surrounded by uncertainty...
• Surrounded by pandemic...
• Surrounded by self-centered politicians...
• Surrounded by the purveyors of greed...
• Surrounded by the interests of secularism...

Holy One, we listen…

• We listen to the music of the angels…
• We listen to the moaning of those who suffer…
• We listen to the reading of scriptures...
• We listen to the noise of the crowds in the mall...
• We hear the grieving of those whose loved ones have died of COVID-19…
• We listen to the mournful cries of those whose loved ones have been shot by police…
• We hear the sounds of church folks singing “Silent Night...”
• We hear the cries of children at the border who have been separated from their parents...
• We hear the moans and aching hearts of those whose loved ones have been killed or captured by Boko Haram…
• We hear the despair of health care workers in the COVID-19 units…
• And the tinkle tinkle music box in the nativity scene on the shelf…
• We hear the choirs sing “For unto us a child is born…

And we hear again the words of Dr. Albert Schweitzer…

“He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside, He came to those ... who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same words: 'Follow thou me!' and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is.”

Holy One, 

    May we know who you are. 

        May we hear your voice. 

            May we follow you. Amen. 

Remembering MarySue Helstern Rosenberger

MarySue Helstern Rosenberger, registered nurse, author, ordained minister, and chaplain, died at home in Westerville, Ohio, on Sunday, October 11, following a lengthy illness with pulmonary fibrosis.

Born on March 10, 1940 in Dayton, Ohio, the daughter of Russell and Vinna Bowers Helstern, she lived her childhood years in a rural location outside of Brookville, Ohio. 

She married Bruce Rosenberger in 1968 and they are the parents of two sons, Luke (Julie) of Boerne, Texas, and Joel of Athens, Ohio. They have one granddaughter, Leah Rosenberger of Austin, Texas. 

MarySue received a BA in biology from Manchester College in 1962 and continued her education in Cleveland, Ohio, earning a BS in nursing from the Frances Payne Bolton School of Nursing in 1964.

Mary Sue worked as a nurse at University Hospital, Cleveland, Ohio from May 1964 until June 1965. As a member of Brethren Volunteer Service she served as a nurse at a hospital operated by the Vietnamese Protestant Church in NhaTrang, Vietnam from 1966 until 1967. After returning from VietNam she worked as a nurse at Good Samaritan Hospital, Dayton, Ohio.  During the years that she raised her two sons she worked part time in Wayne Hospital, Greenville, Ohio, as well as several different nursing homes and care facilities.

From 1981 until 1985 she served as the founding director of Hospice of Darke County (now State of the Heart Care Hospice) in Ohio - the first rural-based hospice in the United States serving an all rural population.

Following her graduation with a Master of Ministry degree from Earlham School of Religion 1993 she served as one of the chaplains of Brethren Retirement Community, Greenville, Ohio.

After her retirement MarySue and Bruce lived full-time for ten years in a fifth-wheel travel trailer which provided many opportunities for sightseeing and out-of-doors activities. During those years she became one of the pastors of Living Stream Church of the Brethren, a church that meets exclusively online, where she served from 2014 until 2018. 

Her published writings include…

In the Brethren Press Covenant Bible series:

• Abundant Living: Wellness from a Biblical Perspective
• Fruit of the Spirit
• The Lord’s Prayer

And a variety of other books including: 

• Lo I am With You Always… even to the end and old age
• Harmless as Doves: Witnessing for Peace in Vietnam  
• Sacraments in My Refrigerator
• Journey of Faith Eighty-Five Years and Beyond: A History of The Brethren’s Home, Greenville, Ohio 1902-1987
• Caring: A History of Brethren Homes 1889-1989
• That They Might Have Life: A History of Brethren Health and Welfare Association  
• Light of the Spirit: The Brethren in Puerto RIco, 1942 to 1992 

Because of the current pandemic Bruce is discouraging in-person visits. However he will be “at home” and welcomes visits by Zoom video call daily Monday, October 12 through Thursday, October 15, between 7 and 9 pm Eastern time at https://us02web.zoom.us/j/9374171183.  Please feel free to stop in Bruce’s Zoom Room, greet, and leave. Or feel welcome to sit for a while with those who grieve.

An online memorial service is planned for Friday, October 16, at 8:00 pm Eastern time; 7:00 pm Central; 6:00 pm Mountain; 5:00 Pacific time. Join us at this link - Memorial for MarySue.  If you cannot be with us live, you may access the recorded archive at the same link. A time for visiting with Bruce and the family by Zoom will follow the memorial service. 

In keeping with her wishes, her body has been donated for research and education. 

Memorial gifts may be made to Living Stream Church of the Brethren.  

All Lives Matter

Yes, all lives matter!

Black lives matter,

they have blessed us with

Rhythms of jazz

And mournful spirituals.

They excel in sports

And are the source of resilience 

that has carried a people

Through centuries of bondage.

But white lives matter, too.

Too early they assumed 

that power and privilege

Belonged to them alone.

They were wrong, of course.

But their curiosity has driven us all

To explore to the ends 

of the earth -

And beyond!

Hamburgers and french fries 

have gone with us!

Yellow lives also matter.

In a tranquil mood.

They’ve presented us

With chop suey,

Fried rice and 

fortune cookies,

And decorated our world

With the simple beauty

 Of Oriental poetry,

Pottery, and script.

Red lives matter.

Our nation's first inhabitants

Are now nearly extinct.

But they’ve left us their history

In tales of their courage 

And lifestyle of cooperation

With creation which could

Enrich our own lives

At this very moment. 

Yes, all lives matter because

They were all made

In the image of God.

We’ll never know 

what color God is

Whether black or white,

Yellow or red,

Polka dot, striped or plaid -

But, all made in the image 

of our Creator,

None of us is better or worse

Than any other,

Nor wiser than our 

Divine pattern!

8/1/2020 - mshr

Death's Angel

Death’s angel knocks
     on every earthly door     
Sometime.
     Even the homeless are roused
as their time draws near.

The knock begins at birth
Keeping time with the heart.
    The knock is so gentle
    Many claim they never hear it.
         Was it the ears that failed?
         Or a fear of meeting
              the knocker?

Death’s angel does not come
              to frighten us,
              But to befriend us,
          And show us the way.

We’ll all need her guidance
because in the new life
all is changed.
     Those who’d struggled
          in a life of poverty and want
              Will be led to homes
                   of blessing and joy
And all those accustomed
To blessing and joy
Will find themselves
              in Heaven’s slums,
         Surrounded by fear and prejudice.

Glorious life after death
    For those who can adjust
          To this other-worldly plan,
               Promising a future
               of justice and equality.

13July2020  - mshr

Curbside Concert

       The hours of self-imposed isolation during a pandemic move very slowly. They crawl even more slowly through the aches of age such as impaired eyesight, breathing problems, and the resistance of uncooperative joints.
So we were delighted when we heard of a new program being offered by the local Arts Council.  A  friend nominated me to be a recipient and I was chosen  to receive a “Curbside Concert.”
At 3:00 pm on a recent  Sunday afternoon, a pick-up truck pulled into the parking area in our little condo village and the  passenger stepped out.  In the bed of the truck he set up a large speaker  connected by Bluetooth to an iPad which held accompaniment tracks for his music.  Then from the back seat, he took out a tenor saxophone.   For the next half hour we, and a few of our neighbors, were entertained by some  beautiful music on that instrument that had come to visit us. That genial musician had chosen music wisely for his aging audience.  Our ears rejoiced at the sound of “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” “Danny Boy,” and other soothing ballads from an age when music sounded like music rather than disorganized noise.
       About 3:30 p.m. the musician packed up, waved “goodbye” to his audience and took off for his next gig.  What a delightful way to spend some of those pesky pandemic hours!

10  July 2020 - mshr

Fresh Air Kids

My anti-racism training began early.  I must have been only about six or seven years old during the summers when my parents hosted several little black girls from a nearby city.  (The term “African-American” was not in common use in the 1940’s or 50’s.)  During several summers, these new friends spent a week or two on our little farm with our family as some of their city neighborhood children spent time on the farms of other members of our church.

None of the children had ever been on a farm before.  So we called them the “fresh  air kids.”  None of us had ever had the chance to make interracial  friendships.  

So it was a learning experience for all of us as well as a vacation  for the “fresh air kids.”
Most of the time they followed us around and helped with our normal farm chores: feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs, walking back to the pasture to help us bring the cow up for her evening milking, feeding the pigs, pulling weeds in the garden, freezing or canning fresh garden produce, helping fix meals and wash the dishes.

Some of us planned special excursions with our new friends.  Our family took them with us to the zoo and art museum in nearby cities and the public library in our local small town.  Of course they accompanied us to church and Sunday School and any church events during the time they were with us.

But around the planned events, there was plenty of time to become friends and ask many innocent and child-like questions. From questions such as “Are collard greens  something like golf greens?”  or “You have two  pairs of shoes, even in the summer?” 

We learned a lot about our differing lifestyles and cultures.  

Sunday was home going day for all the guests as their hosts returned them to the downtown city church that had coordinated the program.  This downtown black city church was an active member of the Council of Churches which had developed the “fresh air kids” as an outreach program to their own communities.

There were many mixed feelings on homecoming day: thanks for new friends and new experiences, a new  feeling of security with people different than themselves, fun in new places, homesickness overcome (perhaps), the similarities between people that are hidden  behind differences.

Mixed feelings, indeed, but not as vicious as those that have erupted on city streets in 2020.  Has it been the passage of 70 years that has made the difference or the  perspective of  a child?

7 June 2020 - mshr