Back in November, on the 8th to be precise, I asked the question: Whatever happened to "You're welcomed?"  I note the date so you may return to it if you so desire.  Enough said.  But, now I have another question: Whatever happened to "No comment?"  I watch enough news to have my ears assaulted with every manner of answer to questions that are either leading or asinine.  Which is more disquieting, the questions or the answers?  I'm not prepared to say.  Have our political classes become so enamored with their own voices they must prattle on saying nothing of import?  Do they think we admire their intellect when they weave words together doing their best to avoid answering?  Sometimes I wonder if they have even understood the question, let alone have an answer worthy of the air they consume speaking.  It isn't a shameful thing not to know everything.  I know that from first-hand experience.  Hence, my question: Whatever happened to the simple NO COMMENT?  It's about as all purpose as it gets.  It may be you do not know the answer.  Or you may know and wish not to answer.  Then again, you may just be trying to save time by getting to some other topic.   On the other hand, the answer is none of their business and you may not yet be willing to say, with a straight face, "I BEG your pardon!"  That answer is a perfect conversation stopper as, once you say it, you just stare at the questioner until he or she melts into the floor.  Which is when it's time for you to ask: NEXT question?

We rejoice at Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  Children wave palm branches and the people accompany Him through the streets and into the temple to overturn tables and cast out money changers.  For a few days things are less dramatic, but the seething and the plotting and the hating hover very near the surface of life.  By Thursday evening Judas Iscariot will have collected his thirty pieces of silver and Jesus' betrayal will soon occur.  It became the practice of the early Church to greet other Christians with "Shlama!" (Peace be with you.)  However, on Good Friday and Holy Saturday the ancient Syrian Christians and Chaldeans would not say that word.  Why?  Because that was what Judas Iscariot said to betray Jesus in the garden.  Those early Christians did not want to have that greeting on their lips when Jesus lay dead in the tomb.  Instead, they would greet each other with "The Light of the World be with you and your departed ones."  That may sound a bit finicky for the 21st Century Church.  However, those early believers didn't want to be verbally complicit with Judas on those two days.  This 21st Century Christian thanks them for their example and for something to think about as Lent draws to a close and the Light of the World is hidden in death.

Believe me when I tell you I did a bit of desk cleaning yesterday.  To the untrained eye, it might not have looked as if that were true.  But, I assure you it is.  My trash can can testify to it.  In the course of clearing and sorting and filing, I found a slip of paper on which I scribbled a note about evil.  The rabbis have asked this question for centuries:  Is evil only a choice?  Or is it a wound to our character?  That is a profoundly striking question.  It plumbs the depths of our understanding of who we are.  It is a question for all of us to ponder, whether we agree on an answer or not.  The scriptures remind us of this truth: "...for all sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (Romans 3:23)  Some don't want to hear this, but it's true.  That sounds like sin is something we do.  Sin being choice makes sense.  The second part of that question, about sin being a wound to our character, may be an after effect or consequence of our sinning.  Our wounded nature is obvious.  We have a savior who comes from God to remedy that nature.  "But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that made us whole, and with his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:5)  In the closing days of Lent we can faithfully confess our fallen nature caused by the evil of our sin and we can rejoice that the wound we bear will be healed by the Christ who bears it in His own body.  This is a good thing to remember as Holy Week will soon be upon us and we await God to keep all the promises of old. 

It's that time again.  Next Sunday, April 2nd, at 1pm in Tampa, Florida, the New York Yankees and the Tampa Bay Rays will open the 2017 Major League Baseball season.  Neither team is expected to win the World Series.  On Opening Day the Chicago Cubs are 3-1 favorites to repeat as Champs; with the Boston Red Sox, Los Angeles Dodgers, and Washington Nationals behind at 10-1.  After that, teams fall off pretty fast and stand no chance of taking the Series.  But that is 162 games away and despite the odds, hope springs eternal.  My Houston Astros are listed at 12-1 and they seem to be in the mix.  I'm not planning any vacation for mid-October, but you never know.  And that's why we play the games.  No one can read the future.  No one can say for sure what teams will make it to the pennant races or the Series.  We have to get there.  We're still in the season of Lent.  We still await the drama God sets in motion for our salvation.  All our sacrificial living and prayer and repentance stand in wait for God to act.  This waiting intensifies as Good Friday and Holy Saturday draw near.  We have to get there to recognize the fidelity of God.  However, while in Major League Baseball, anticipating the last team standing makes for all kinds of excitement; for the Church, waiting in hope, the Resurrection of Jesus surpasses all else.  You see, there will be a World Series winner in 2017 and again in 2018 and again in 2019 and again...until Jesus comes and puts an end to baseball and history and that is why the resurrection has no comparison. Praise God for that. 

March 14th.  On this day in 1879, Albert Einstein was born.  That's 138 years ago.   He died in 1955 at 76 years of age.  That was sixty-two years ago.  I can't remember that far back in the past.  I'm not really sure what my earliest memory really is.  I've been shown home movies and seen pictures and been told stories about my past.  However, I cannot separate what I remember from what I was told.  Research on memory has been going on for quite some time.  Today, we know the memory center of the brain really doesn't start to develop until we're almost three and a half years old.  Memories before that age are most likely remembrances of what we've been told or shown.  And then we go through what is known as childhood amnesia that isn't really complete until we're almost seven.  No one knows why the human brain forgets the early years and then picks up three or four years later and continues for the rest of our lives.  It may be some long developed evolutionary process, the purpose to which we have no clue.  In any case, I know exactly where I was on this date in 1981.  Our first born son came into the world in Dallas, Texas.  Life and time has not been the same.  The joys and delights of life took on dimensions I couldn't dream possible.  Happy Birthday Keith Eugene Henry, III.  Now that you are beyond the mid-point of three score and ten, relish your life and your marriage and your daughter.  It's gets better as the years roll on and the memories build one upon another.

I found myself sitting at a railroad crossing a couple of weeks ago.  The crossing bars were down and I knew I needed to stop.  So I did.  But, the last car of the train was just beyond the crossing and was at a complete stop.  It was headed east and would not cross my path unless it backed up.  My dilemma?  I didn't have one.  The lights were flashing and the crossing bars were down.  I never go around those bars.  It's illegal.  I'm not sure what the penalty for violating that law, and I don't want to find out.  However, there were many drivers behind me who apparently indifferent to the law or are fabulously wealthy.  Seven drivers moved past me and zig-zagged through those flashing bars to cross the tracks and be on their merry way.  I was astonished!  I have no doubt they made the decision to proceed only because they could and they wouldn't be caught.  If a police officer or county deputy was at that crossing not a single one of those drivers would have driven past me.  Is it the case we only do what is right when the authorities are watching?  If we could get away with some infraction, would we, if no one would catch us?  Remember, it's Lent.  The God who sees in secret will reward in secret. (Matthew 6:1ff)  Maybe even punish.  Why take a chance?

Ash Wednesday invites the Church to look purposefully at it’s interior life.  By that, I mean, the spiritual life which is ours to nourish and order, by incorporating into them three specific disciplines: fasting, prayer, and alms giving.  We practice these three as they are commended to us by Jesus as specific and minimal disciplines.  They are the least we can do and we CAN do them.  They are not extras we can address only as we so choose.  They are, according to Jesus, mainstays to our very identity as his disciples.  How can we call ourselves Christian if we do not fast, pray, and give alms?  We lift them up in Lent and practice them anew with deliberation as a reminder to ourselves we follow the one who suffered, died, and was raised to life for us.  And for those to whom we bear witness by the spiritually disciplined life we lead.  We are dust.  We are sinners.  We are in need of God's grace.  We will die.  We will, again be dust.  And we will again be living creatures of the living God who has become the Resurrection and the Life for us in Jesus Christ.  Remember this in Lent.  And give thanks.

Today my father would have been ninety years old.  He was born on the 22nd of February, 1927.  It used to be celebrated as George Washington's birthday.  Today, Lincoln and Washington are remembered on President's Day; fixed as the third Monday of February.  When my father was born, Babe Ruth was gearing up for his record setting home run season with the New York Yankees.  Ruth would hit sixty home runs in 1927.  That record would stand until Roger Maris hit sixty-one in 1961, thirty-four years later.  Calvin Coolidge was our President.  1927 saw the birth of the Harlem Globetrotters.  The first trans-Atlantic phone call was made.  Charles Lindbergh flew non-stop from New York to Paris.  Anarchists Sacco and Vanzetti were executed for murder in Boston.  And the Ford Model T gave way to the Model A.  1927 saw Lizzie Borden die and Coretta Scott King born.  Every day in history has memorable news.  Some worthy of the history books, some worthy only as ephemeral knowledge usable on Jeopardy.  I miss my dad.  He died on May 17, 1977; just three days after Julia and I were married; almost forty years ago.  Plenty has happened in the nine decades since his birth and four since his passing.  Keith Eugene Henry was born in Elwood, Indiana, was graduated from Purdue University in 1957, and has seven grand children (whom he never knew), and one very precious great-grand daughter named Audrey Isabelle.  Rest In Peace, Dad.

Valentine's Day came too late to be the focus of this week's Pastor's Memo.  The 14th was yesterday.  One day short.  So the topic for today?  The sentencing of Socrates to death by the city of Athens.  In 399 BC the Greek philosopher was condemned for corrupting the minds of the youth.  A further charge of impiety was added to insure his execution.  The story is he drank hemlock.  He was allowed to pick his own poison.  Just imagine how many others, in this generation, could be likewise condemned if corrupting the minds of the youth was still a capital offense.  Those responsible for "beyond unsavory" song lyrics; too easily available drugs; cell phone apps for unbelievable information; cell phones, period.  We all have our list of reasons why the world is going to hell in a hand basket.  And none of us want to climb in the one waiting for us.  So, on this day of such an august man's conviction, let us remember what is perhaps his most memorable saying: "The unexamined life is not worth living."  Wise words, indeed, from more than twenty-four centuries ago.  O.K.  If you insist; Happy Valentine's Day.

I have a confession to make.  I did not watch Super Bowl LI.  I haven't watched the Super Bowl since the Colts played in it ten years ago.  And if the Miami Dolphins don't make it to the Big Game, I'm not interested at all.  That probably makes me among the very few who didn't arrange their Super Bowl Sunday around chicken wings, guacamole dip, and Budweiser. I ate Chinese with Julia and snacked on peanuts and popcorn the rest of the day.  I understand there were a few TV commercials worth watching but, alas, none worth remembering.  Political partisanship was mercifully kept to a minimum and Lady Gaga was more than passably entertaining at half time.  President George H. W. Bush presided at the Coin Toss.  He and Barbara were received with tumultuous applause.  The game was a rout until the Patriots came roaring back in the fourth quarter to tie and then win the game in overtime.  All this I learned from the news.  It was unavoidable.  The coverage was "wall to wall," after a manner of speaking.  Now that the 2016-17 season is completed, whatever will I do with my Thursdays and Saturdays and Sundays and Mondays?  Well, Major League Baseball's Spring Training begins in about a week and Valentine's Day will find me buying chocolate and perhaps flowers.  I'll stay busy and entertained.  And life will go on.