Epworth United Methodist Church

Epworth United Methodist Church
Rev. David Weekley, Pastor
September 20, 2009

A Change in Perspective

“The greatest gift we can give one another is rapt attention to one another’s existence”.
Sue Atchley Ehaugh

What do singers; dancers, actors and actresses all have in common?

They desire to become famous.

On September 25, a new version of the 1980’s Oscar-winning movie Fame will be released.

The story follows a group of talented students through four years at the New York City High School for the Performing Arts. The competitive energy at this school is high as each student is put to the test.

The dream of each of these students is poured out in a song: “I toast to my own reunion when I become one with the sun. And I’ll look back on Venus, I’ll look back at Mars, and I’ll burn with the fire of 10 million stars; and in time, and in time, we will all be stars.”

The dream of each of these young people is to become one with the sun, to become a star.

In the gospel, Jesus’ disciples are thinking they will become famous, too; they will be stars.

So when Jesus starts to talk about how he will be betrayed and killed, and then rise again…

Well, the disciples are less than pleased and more than a little confused.

Jesus knows they need a change in perspective.

So Jesus sits down as a teacher, and says to the disciples gathered around him, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” To be a star, he insists, is to first be a servant.”

To illustrate this totally counter-cultural point more clearly, Jesus takes a child into his arms saying, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” [vs. 36,37]

Now the jaws of those disciples must have dropped to the floor at this point, because, in the first century a child was a non-person, a nonentity, a nobody, a thing. There is no reason for a child to be close to a great teacher like Jesus, or in the middle of a group of adult men.

Jesus says that when we welcome a nobody,the least, last, lost, we welcome him, and when we welcome Jesus, we welcome God.

Jesus calls us to change our perspective.

Let me give you a personal example.

When I shared my story with you on August I had no desire to become famous, or infamous!

But suddenly there was a flurry of media interest.

By Sunday evening there were two newspaper articles about me, one in the online edition of The Portland Tribune, and the other in the online Sunday evening Oregonian.

Both of these yielded their share of comments. Most of these were supportive and positive; a few of them were rude and intentionally hurtful.

I was grateful when I saw that people responded to the hateful messages with positive ones, and most often with a reply intended to help educate.

Although I did not intend for this type of public attention, I am encouraged if people are even discussing such topics as gender identity at all.

One of the more hateful comments I saw referred to me as a, “thing”. Well, this is nothing new. I remember being called such a name back in fifth grade.

When I read this particular comment I thought of this verse from the gospel, when Jesus takes a little child, an “it” as the scripture reads, and, placing ‘it’ among them he says that to welcome those considered not even human, to invite the smallest, the least and the last of all-

This is the only way to shine like a star in the eternal sense of the word.

In the eternal sense of God’s Word!

There is a big message here.

Whenever we can think of another being as an “it” rather than as a precious creation of God, we violate the most basic commandment of the entire gospel, that we, “love one another as I have loved you.”

Years ago Jewish theologian and Professor Martin Buber wrote a classic book about sacred human relationships titled, “I and Thou”. In the book Buber relates a true story about a time when a young student came to see him. He said he listened patiently as the student described some concerns in his life, but was glad when he left. Later that evening as he was out to dinner with a friend, a colleague asked if he had heard about the student who had committed suicide. Martin Buber said he had not, then he learned it was very student who had come to him earlier. At that moment Buber determined never to treat another human being as what he called an, “It”, an object.

Instead, Martin Buber said he wanted to treat each person as “Thou”, as the sacred child of worth they are; he believed if he had done this with his student, the outcome might have been different.

The book, “I and Thou” discusses how we may treat one another with mutual understanding, compassion, dignity and respect, rather than looking at one another as objects, as ‘things’ I either understand and like, or not.

Jesus wants us to understand and to care for one another as sacred children of God, to give one another this care, dignity and respect as we interact together in this life’s journey.

This generally means we need a change in perspective.

I invite you to prayerfully reflect for a few moments about where Jesus/God may be calling you to a change of perspective.

As you think about this, I will share this true story as closing.

It comes from a favorite book of mine, “Chicken Soup from the Soul of Hawai’I” and it is a true story by Linda Tagawa titled, Grandma Fujikawa”.

Every Sunday after church, Mama would have the car loaded with a picnic meal. We’d hop in the car and drive off to the beach. But first, we’d stop by to get Grandma at her home in Nu’uanu. I’d be the one to run around the back and up the gray, wooden stairs tow steps at a time.

“Grandma!!!”

“Olight, Olight. Hai, hai, I coming!” (All right, all right. Yes, yes, I’m coming!)

“Olight, olight,” she’d laugh excitedly.

Grandma looked forward to our weekly Sunday picnics at Ala Moana Park. She came to Hawai’I from Japan a long time ago, but still couldn’t speak much English. I only heard her say, “Dinda, you gudu girl ne?” (Linda, you good girl, yes?), while she patted me on the head as if she was petting a dog. When I’d call for her in her tiny, gray room, she’d gather up her purse, slip on her shoes and roll the tops of her knee-high stockings until they were just above her ankles. I never thought they looked funny. I just thought that was the way she normally dressed.

She’d laugh all the way down the stairs and shuffle as fast as she could, all the way to the car.

At the beach, the older folks played Hanafuda (Japanese flower cards), but Grandma just sat and watched. I don’t recall anyone talking to her. She just sat all afternoon, watched the Hanafuda game, laughed and walked around the park. Come to think of it, every time Grandma was with us she sat, laughed and just watched what was going on. She always seemed so happy.

I never thought to talking to her except to say , “Hi, Grandma!” nor did I ever think of disclosing my private thoughts. I wouldn’t have known what to say because I didn’t speak much Japanese, and she spoke very little English.

When I went to my first prom, I never even thought of sharing my excitement with Grandma. And when I had my first boyfriend, I merely introduced him to her. She just laughed and said,”Ali su. You get nisu boy-friendo.” (Nice. You get nice boyfriend.)

When I graduated from high school, I just remember her stroking my arm saying, “Dinda, you smato girl ne?” (Linda, you smart girl, yes?) Later, when I graduated from college, Grandma came to see me. Her voice and the words were the same, and when I got married, Grandma sat at our wedding table. I didn’t really talk to her because I was so caught up in the festivities, but I still remember her voice,”Dinda, you guru girl, ne?” (Linda, you good girl, yes?)

Shortly after I had my first child, my husband and I moved to Japan. It was a strange feeling to be a literate, college graduate one day, and an illiterate henna gaigin (strange foreigner) the next. That’s when I began to understand what it felt like to live in a foreign country.

At first, I frantically thumbed through my little red dictionary to search for the right Japanese words to express myself, but thoughts came faster than my fingers could move so I put the book away. It was easier to just smile and laugh. I slowly began to understand how Grandma must have felt when she moved to Hawai’i from her home in Japan. Suddenly I knew why she laughed a lot.

The first time I went to the neighborhood market to shop, I couldn’t read the labels on the canned goods. They were all written in Japanese, so I had to guess what was inside by looking at the pictures on the cans.

I wondered if Grandma shopped by the pictures, too.

I remember the time I caught the bus with my three-month-old baby. I thought I had the directions down pat; however, when I got off the bus, the landmarks were different. I was lost and didn’t have a clue where I was. My heart pounded in my chest as I thought, Did Grandma feel as frightened as I?

Then there was the time when my baby was hurt, and I ended up at a small clinic where I couldn’t understand a word the doctor was saying. As he pulled out a huge hypodermic needle, I wondered if Granma had have felt as helpless as I did at that moment.

When I had a liver ailment and was referred to a Japanese specialist, I took a friend to translate. When I began asking the doctor questions, however , my translator refused to convey them. Later I was told it was disrespectful to question doctors in Japan. I wondered, How did Grandma deal with a new culture that expected her to ask questions in order to get information, when the very core of her upbringing did not allow her to speak up?

One day I decided to find out. I wrote Grandma a letter: “Did you feel stupid, illiterate, lost and lonely, too, Grandma? You must have had feelings of humiliation, isolation and pain just so we could have a better life. You always laughed and seemed so happy. I didn’t know.”

My letter was translated and then sent. Four weeks later I received a reply and the translation read, “For the first time in my life, I am so happy, so much so that I cannot help but cry. You see, for the first time in my life, someone understands, someone in my family really understands me.”

I still have that letter. Every night as I lay in bed, I day a prayers and then gently slip Grandma’s tear-stained letter out from under my pillow and read it.

Her words have become my own. Someone finally understands.

Closing Prayer

Thank-you God/Jesus for understanding us…

Help us to see one another as you see us-loveable, unique expressions of your very self…help us to give one another the greatest gift of al-to love and care for each other as you love us…