Home again, Home again… But no Jigs yet.

Well, after a few hours sleep in Day Surgery I’m back home once more. The disconcerting thing is I went in feeling fairly well, pain free and able to move around under my own power. Not after the surgery designed to repair my torn Achilles heel. I am feeling less than chipper, experiencing significant discomfort, some pain, and I’m about as mobile as a three-legged Galapagos tortoise. Ah well, what’s the old saying, “Short term pain for long term gain.”

I want to thank all of you who took a moment to think of me and pray for me today. As I lay on the gurney in the hallway waiting to go into the operating room, I could feel the anxiety building. Then I reminded myself that there were people in the world who were deliberately and purposefully thinking of me right at that moment. I will admit that the comfort to be found in that thought surprised me.

There’s a quote that I have used many time over the years to try to help me keep my ego in check.

“Most people would worry less about what people think of them if they could just realize how seldom they do.”

I don’t know who said it but this sentence has kept me from obsessing on people’s opinions more than a few times. As a teenager I spent a lot of time worrying what my peers thought of me and tried to “fit in” by doing things that would improve those opinions. For a time my insecurity was largely fueled by the idea that people didn’t like me at all and spent a lot of time telling other people how much I sucked. The turn around came when I finally came to grips with the reality that people didn’t think about me as much as I feared.

Then the opposing obsession took hold, “What do you mean people DON’T THINK ABOUT ME? Am I that insignificant that I’m not WORTH thinking about?” This quickly led to a new personal philosophy that stayed with me through-out most of my twenties..”I don’t care what people think about me as long as they do!” My self-esteem now centered around a fear of indifference – to me. It’s amazing how many different ways peer pressure can manifest itself – real or imagined.

With maturity I like to think I’ve struck a balance between the two. My self -esteem is now founded more in my identity in Christ than anything else. Well, most of the time anyway.There are a few individuals whose opinions I use as kind of a benchmark. Other than that I am content to simply be who I am and let the world try and cope with my opinion of it. What people think and whether they are thinking of me at all are of significantly less importance than they once were.

What happened today however, was something all together different. For a few hours it mattered to me a great deal that people were, in fact, thinking of me – and deliberately so. After they wheeled me away from Roberta’s company into the inner labyrinth of the surgery area, I felt suddenly very alone. They took me to the hallway outside the assigned operating room and left me there to gaze out the window. The anxiety rose, and fear started to set in.

Then I remembered what my good friend Brian Watson had said, “We’ll take time at 1 o’clock to stop and pray for you.” In that moment I also remembered the dozen or so others who had committed to do the same thing. I did some quick tallying and estimated that while I was lying there at least 34 people were out there, somewhere, thinking about me and my situation and lifting my name up to God in prayer.

Suddenly, the fear subsided. The anxiety, while still there, no longer took my breath away; the shaking in my hands was reduced to a barely noticeable tremor. I was comforted and encouraged by the knowledge that there were people out there who cared enough about me, who loved me enough to stop what they were doing and lift me up in prayer. I found myself praying for each one of them.

I know, it’s what prayer is all about. It’s why we are commanded in the scriptures to pray for one another. But I, like you gentle reader, are human, and the challenges we face can often overwhelm us and we find ourselves in need of a palpable reminder. Today the Spirit reminded me of that fact in just such a tangible way.

So thank you Brian, et al. Your prayers were heard, and I was greatly blessed.

May God bless each of you for your faithfulness.

Shalom.

Little Pieces of Toast

Okay, so this is it. This morning at 11 am (EST) I sign in to ‘day surgery’ at Guelph General Hospital, then at 1pm they wheel me in and start cutting. If all goes well I’ll be home in time for supper.

I had the pre-op appointment yesterday and it was full of assurances that everything was going to work out just fine, my doctor is extremely good at what he does, and I’m healthy enough there should be no difficulties. And, oh yes… due to budget cuts I can’t have a piece of toast anymore when I wake up – layoffs to follow.

That’s right! There was much apologizing for the fact that there would be no toast. Apparently, since a surgery patient can’t eat for 12 hours beforehand, it was their custom to feed them some juice and toast when they woke up to settle the grumbling stomach. When budget cuts came along the toast was the first to go. Now I just get the juice and a biscuit.

I guess everyone has ‘stuff’ with which they struggle; seemingly small stuff to you and I maybe, but it holds meaning for the people involved because it’s indicative of changes they’d rather not see. There are certainly a lot bigger problems in our health care system than supplying toast for day surgery patients, but those who work there see it as ‘just one more thing‘ that takes the joy out of their existence because it reminds them of what might follow – layoffs or whatever other darkness looms on the horizon.

We all have little pieces of toast in our lives. Things that on the surface seem small and insignificant, but we are tempted to fall on our swords to protect them because of what they represent. We cry out against the powers that be, “Come on already! I know it’s tough and we need to make changes, but can’t we at least keep the toast?

If we can keep the toast, if we can manage one small victory as the darkness encroaches, then maybe we will survive this after all. Maybe it will serve as one small glimmer of light to give us some comfort.

So as I head into the hospital today, as much as I completely dread the experience (I haven’t been under the knife since I was 17), I find myself thinking about the nurse in pre-op who felt the need to apologize for the lack of toast. I know she’s feeling a pain of her own and needs prayer and support as much as I do.

So please, gentle reader, if you are inclined to pray for me this day as I endure my ordeal, for which I am truly grateful, then please remember the toast, and also pray for those at the hospital who face an uncertain future. And when you speak to the Father, offer a word for anyone you know who is struggling to hang on to one small comfort in life, that it might help them see their way through the temporary darkness and into a brighter tomorrow.

Until I return from surgery… Shalom

And Now for Something Completely Different…

I suppose the time has come to write about my current situation, if for no other reason than a multitude of individuals who have said to me in the last few days, “I expect much blogging while you are laid up the next few weeks.”

I think that was one of the things that made me take an hiatus from blogging – the sense of having to meet expectations. I started it because I just wanted to get things down for myself, but soon I was writing for everyone but me. But that is of course the dilemma every creative thinker faces, is it not? Do I write, paint, play, sing, sculpt, or whatever else it is I consider my raison d’etre for my own satisfaction, or do I do it for those whose opinions I hold in even higher regard – my audience, though I may be loath to admit it. I suspect, like most things in my experience, the truth lies somewhere in between, consisting of x parts one and truth – x parts the other.

But to return to the subject at hand: on Friday morning (Jan 9/08) I shall report to Guelph General Hospital’s Day Surgery ward to undergo a procedure to repair the Achilles tendon on my left foot. It seems I have a knack for putting my foot in it (as my wife Roberta will confirm) and this time what I put my foot in was a hole in the floor backstage at Guelph Little Theatre. The details of exactly how it happened are largely unimportant. Let it suffice to say,”Black floor + black hole x large differential bifocals = Ouch!” If you have no idea what the bifocals have to do with it, ask someone who wears them.

And so I find myself faced with the prospect of surgery, followed by several weeks in a cast, then more time in a walking cast, and who knows how many sessions of excruciating physio-therapy. Oooh! – what fun! But then I suppose it could always be worse. There will be time to think, to write, to sort, to meditate, to vegetate, and of course, to blog.

I strongly suspect that this may well be one of those, be careful what you pray for scenarios. As the New Year unfolded I found myself offhandedly praying for more time to engage in all of the above – especially the writing. Then this happens. Powerful stuff prayer. Use at own risk!

So there you have it, the back story to where these ramblings will be coming from for the next little while. If you would like to support me in some way during my period of recovery then I ask you to click your way over to the Guelph Little Theatre website and book a few tickets for “The Curious Savage“. It is the delightful little comedy I was working on the preparation for when this happened. Yes I know, it’s a shameless plug; but if it sells out in a stampede of sympathetic consumerism it shall serve to bolster my self-esteem as I will have ‘taken one for the team.’

What is “The Curious Savage“? It is the story of three siblings, five friends, two attendants, and a woman and her bear; all drawn together by means of foolish expectations and not so foolish dreams. Yes, it is a rather cryptic description I know, but then, where’s your curiosity?

Until next time then, I covet your prayers, your well-wishes, and your contributions to the box office.

Shalom

Exploratory Storytelling- Joseph’s Story

This past Sunday (Dec 28, 2008) I presented a monologue to my home church that examined the nativity from the perspective of Joseph. If you haven’t heard it you can visit my home church’s website or listen to it using the link below.

081228 Joseph’s story – Dennis gray – 10am.mp3

After the service, as expected, a number of people challenged me on the premise of my presentation. For a few hundred years now western Christianity has had this idea that Joseph was a young man and that Mary was his first wife. The image has been presented for so long that it is hard for us to consider other possibilities. As one woman in the congregation put it, “You’re a heretic aren’t you?

But such has not always been the case, and indeed even today there are branches of Christianity that find the idea of an older, more mature Joseph quite acceptable. These ideas largely stem from what are known as the apocryphal writings, a number of documents which for one reason or another were not included in the Bible. The most common reason for their exclusion was “that many things are found in them corrupt and against the true faith handed down by the elders…” Origen .

That there are questionable contents in these books is without question (pun intended) but does that mean that everything in them is in error? The gospels are so devoid of information about Joseph that if we are to be completely honest, anything that we imagine regarding the man is, in truth, speculation. So I would ask you, gentle reader, to speculate with me and consider that, at least in part, there may be some validity to some of these ideas about the surrogate father of Jesus Christ.

Joseph – A biography…

Basically the story of Joseph as presented by the apocrypha goes something like this.

Joseph’s first wife was a woman called Melcha or Escha or Salome, depending on which apocryphal book you read. They lived forty-nine years together and had six children, two daughters and four sons, the youngest of whom was James, Jesus’ brother. A year after his wife’s death, the priests announce throughout Judea that they wished to find a good man of the tribe of Judah to espouse Mary, then twelve to fourteen years of age. Joseph, who was at the time ninety years old, went up with the other candidates and by the manifestation of a miracle (this varies) God selected Joseph, and two years later the Annunciation took place.

Now, let me repeat, these accounts have no definitive authority whatsoever; however, over the years they have acquired some popularity, even inspiring many artists in their depictions of the events. This is especially true of the Coptic Church who were among the first to venerate Joseph. Coptic commentators point out that there are some good reasons to believe that Joseph was an older man, (though many will admit that the age of ninety is likely an attempt to associate him with Abraham and Moses).

Consider this: a younger man would likely have gone ballistic when he heard that his betrothed was pregnant and knew full well it wasn’t his doing. An older man might have been more disposed to protecting the reputation of her family as the Bible suggests. There’s also an argument to be made that an older man would be more likely to accept the spiritual reality of the dream rather than just excuse it as being influenced by Mary’s story. In a similar light, an older man is more likely to be able to restrain himself from relations with Mary while awaiting the birth of the child, though admittedly fear of harming the Holy Child makes for powerful motivation even for an amorous young Jew.

Now might suggest that this was created to re-enforce the idea that Joseph was the “protector of virgins”, and I have to agree it looks that way. However, I find it interesting to note that the stories can be traced to the late 2nd/early 3rd century, while the veneration of Joseph only traces back to the 4th century. Is it possible the story inspired the elevation of Joseph to sainthood?

Now, none of this is conclusive but then our speculation doesn’t stop there. My monologue also contained another interesting idea.

Dual Genealogies Explained

Another dimension to this is that many of the same authors, including one Julius Africanus, also expounded an interesting explanation for the fact that the lineage of Jesus (by his father Joseph of course) is different in the Gospel of Luke from the one presented in the Gospel of Matthew. In the book of Matthew Joseph’s father is listed as being a man named Jacob, whereas Luke says Joseph’s father was Heli.

Julius did some 3rd century Google-ing (that is actual back and forth footwork) and determined that Jacob and Heli were, in fact, half-brothers; their mother having remarried after the death of her first husband. This led Julius to some interesting speculation. Yes, I know, more speculation, but most explanations of the two genealogies are no more than that. The question is, is one man’s speculation more feasible than another’s?

Julius looked at the fact the two men were brothers and was reminded of the Levitate requirement that if a man were to die without a male heir, then his brother should marry his widow to sire an heir for the deceased husband. (Deut. 25:5-6) What if that were the case with Jacob and Heli? Africanus suggests that Heli dies without an heir, so his widow, who is identified as a woman named Eisha, marries her husband’s half brother Jacob. By Jacob, Eisha gives birth to a boy named Joseph, who would grow up to marry Mary. Biologically the boy is the son of Jacob, but because of the Levitate edict, that the brother sires an heir “for his brother”, the child would be legally considered to be the son of Heli!

Since Matthew is one of the disciples, and we know that Mary, the mother of Jesus, spends at least some time with the company that followed the Lord; it is not unreasonable to suggest that Matthew would know about the circumstances of Joseph’s birth and the connection to Jacob. So Matthew records Jesus’ blood lineage.

Luke, on the other hand, is a companion of Paul’s, but is apparently not around prior to the crucifixion. For his account it would not be unreasonable to suggest he relied on the official records and therefore counted Heli as being the earthly grandfather of Jesus, so his account is the legal lineage.

Since this scenario is entirely plausible, it means that both genealogies could well be valid lines of succession, through Joseph, for the man known as Jesus of Nazareth.

IMHO (In My Humble Opinion)

Personally, I like this explanation. So apparently did early scholars such as Aristotle, who rejected all other ideas once he heard this one. As speculations go, it has cultural validity, is based on sound Biblical concepts, and is in many respects more plausible than the idea that Luke’s lineage is somehow that of Mary. But again, it is all speculation; baring a major archaeological discovery, we will never truly know the truth this side of the next life.

But even having said that, such speculation is not without value. It is important that we, from time to time, consider the validity of our assumptions. Many old ideas have been rejected not because of any valid argument, but just because they are old ideas. In some cases personal grudges and/ or bigotry are involved. In like manner, many new ideas are also rejected for no reason other than they are new.

And so, gentle reader, I present to you some food for thought. Not to be taken as gospel, or even as a great likelihood, but simply to be considered as grist for the mill in our continuing effort to understand the reality that is the story of our Lord Jesus.

Shalom.

Starting Over.. over New Years

It’s been a long time since I have posted here. I’m not sure exactly why I stopped posting, but I imagine it had a lot to do with the desire to do so fading into the background. So be it. My father often said there was no sense doing something if the joy has gone out of it for you.

But I have been thinking lately that I might start blogging again, but I think I’ll stick with just the one blog. I suspect part of my problem was trying to keep up with keeping three blogs going and doing all the other things I enjoy as well. Something had to give, or everything would suffer.

So I’ve decided just to post to this blog and this blog alone. I’ll likely copy it to my Multiply site. It will encompass a lot of the things I blogged about before only this time all in one blog. Sometimes it will be about the Bible and faith, sometimes about church history, sometimes about theatre or cycling all the various things that go into making me who I am. In short it will live up to it’s name – Myriad Shades of Gray… Dennis Gray.

I hope you don’t mind coming along for the ride…

So where to begin? How about a video? Some of you may not recognize or know of Penn Fraser Jillette, if not you can read about him here.

Jillette poses a question in this piece that really stuck with me when I heard it.

How much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much to you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?

I have often heard a variety of preachers encourage me to spend more of my time witnessing to others about Jesus. I have been told I should do it out of compassion for the deluded, because God has commanded it, because I won’t get any heavenly brownie points called crowns if I don’t, and of course I have been told I should do it out of love for the lost.

And while all of them have had varying degrees of effectiveness for varying lengths of time; none have struck me as this strait-forward, in-your-face question from a non-believer. I don’t usually make New Years resolutions, but I’m downloading this video and watching it over and over until the point sinks in.

If you haven’t done so, take the time to watch the video. Share it with your friends, both Christian and non-Christian. And while I do pray that all of you will have a safe, happy and blessed by God abundantly New Year; I also hope that this question stays foremost in your consciousness for each of the next 365 days.

Shalom.