Dave Zuchelli's Blog, page 33

The Judas Question

[image error]We have very few records of conversations between Jesus and Judas Iscariot. Conversations with Peter, James, and John are much more prevalent. Consequently, most of what we know about Judas comes from Hollywood. In other words, we don’t know much at all.

When I think of Judas, the setting is usually the Last Supper. Jesus has just announced that one of them will betray him. Judas (along with everyone else) asked, “Is it I, Master?” (Matthew 26:25; RSV) Since I know the end of the story, I look at his inquiry through rather jaundiced eyes. I want to say, “C’mon Judas! We all know it’s you!”

But I get this nagging feeling that even Judas wasn’t so sure—even at that late stage. I suppose up to that point, he had entertained the thought of betrayal. He may have even laid some groundwork for it. But I’m not so positive his mind was set in stone before the moment Jesus sent him away to do his worst.

“I tend to be a big softie.”

I’ve always felt particularly sorry for Judas. You can’t go by my feelings, however. I tend to be a big softie. I’ve actually had moments (fleeting as they were) when I’ve felt sorry for the likes of Hitler and Saddam Hussein. I know, I know…

One of the few things we actually know about Judas was that he was the group’s treasurer. Despite the position he was given, his trustworthiness was somewhat in doubt (see John 12:6). Nevertheless, when Jesus announced the betrayal, all the disciples were shocked to think it could be one of them—Judas included.

If Judas was like most of his countrymen at that time, he was undoubtedly disappointed by Jesus’ actions during the final week of his life (or maybe I should say, “Jesus’ inaction”). Most of the Jewish citizens were probably looking for a Messiah to come and lead a successful rebellion against the Roman Empire.

Did Jesus Live Up to Expectations?

Israel had long been under the thumb of an oppressive force, and people were fed up with living in an occupied territory. In Judas’ mind, if the worst Jesus was going to do was turn over a few tables in the Temple, things weren’t moving fast enough. Here they were—in Jerusalem. It was the perfect setting to get the ball rolling, but nothing was happening. Maybe Jesus wasn’t living up to Judas’ expectations.

[image error]Judas was one of the original twelve. He loved Jesus. Jesus inspired him. He believed in Jesus. Maybe he thought, “If I just give him a little push…”

Jesus’ apparent lack of a military approach may have caused Judas to attempt to force the Master’s hand. Maybe Judas’ hope was, by turning the Lord into the authorities, Jesus would take up arms. Who knows?

We’ll never fully comprehend it in this life. But I wonder if the actual betrayal was a last-minute decision. Maybe he really meant it when he asked Jesus, “Is it I, Master?” I sometimes painfully wonder if I could have done the same.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

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The Funhouse Mirror

[image error] On the days I get motivated to head to the gym (yes, to work out), I’m always confronted with a rather disturbing experience. Last year, our HOA took on the project of remodeling the facility. Now when I walk into the locker room, it’s to a sparkly, new, rearranged version of its old self. I like it.

Well, I like it except for one thing. Upon making the left-hand turn into the locker room proper, I’m confronted with a large mirror. This, in itself, is no big deal. Most locker rooms have such a feature. We need these to maintain our perfect coifs after we shower and prepare for the cold, cruel world.

The problem here seems to be the amount of money spent on this particular mirror. Maybe I should rephrase that. The problem here seems to be the lack of money spent on this particular mirror. I say that because it has the quality of a funhouse mirror.

“We didn’t have computer games.”

I don’t know if you’re old enough to have ever gone into a funhouse. I haven’t seen one of those in years, so I’m guessing they’ve gone the way of the Dodo bird. Even if you’ve never been in one of those things, I suspect you’ve at least experienced the enjoyment of viewing yourself in a cheap mirror. The old funhouses had various mirrors that would distort your body’s image. One would make you look skinny, another would make you look fat, and still another would give you a big head, tiny hips, and elephant thighs. When I was a kid, this was considered great fun. (We didn’t have computer games.)

[image error]The mirror in our men’s locker room has a funhouse feel to it. Unless you really look closely, you might not notice it at first. Once you see it, however, you can’t un-see it. I noticed it early on, and now I see it every time I walk by. It wouldn’t bother me so much if this reflecting glass would give me a true image. It would be even better if I would see a skinnier me headed in my direction. But no, it gives me what one might call a wide body. I can do without wide. I’m already wide enough in my old age without some cheapo mirror producing a gross caricature of my image. I really should sue somebody. This is causing irreparable emotional damage to my psyche.

“I’m better looking than I suppose.”

I suppose I shouldn’t complain, though. Our locker room mirror is really nothing more than a microcosm of the society around me. Our culture has become a dull distortion of what it once was. The image I see at the gym is merely a reminder that things are never really as they seem. We can never quite get the real facts these days, so heading into the locker room should serve as a reminder that I’m better looking than I suppose.

My one comfort is the old hymn that reminds us all, “There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy.”

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Performing Weddings

[image error]Yesterday, I performed a wedding. It was a very beautiful ceremony. The setting was outdoors on a farm. I’ve done ceremonies in similar venues over the years, and I’m always happy if my hay fever doesn’t kick in until I’m on my way home.

As I was preparing to go, I happened to think about the term we use for what I do on those occasions. Guys like me are said to “perform the wedding.” That’s a bit of a stretch, I think. I certainly don’t think of myself as a performer (or much of a professional for that matter). I’ve been doing these things for thirty-seven years, but if you can read a script and finagle a license from the state, you can become a performer as well.

When I think of performing, I think in different terms. Professional musicians perform concerts. Surgeons perform operations. Scientists perform experiments. Performing a wedding ceremony seems to pale by comparison.

Even Jesus Thought Weddings Were Important

Still, wedding ceremonies are extremely important. Even Jesus seemed to think so. His earliest recorded miracle took place at a wedding reception. You probably remember the story.

Jesus, his Mom, and his disciples were invited to a wedding in Cana. Apparently, Jesus felt it was important enough to make an appearance. We’re not told what his relationship to the bride and/or groom happened to be, but in any case, he honored them with his presence.

Receptions in that culture could last a week or two (quite the party, I’m sure). In the case of the celebration in question, they ran out of wine. That could have been a big, embarrassing deal. It would have been a disastrous event had it not been for the fact that they had invited Jesus. Just as importantly, they had invited his Mom.

His Mom Forced His Hand

He wasn’t going to do anything about the fiasco until his Mom forced his hand (John 2:1-12). It makes interesting reading in case you don’t know the entire story. Jesus announced to his Mom that it wasn’t his time to do such things as yet. Mary must have been a typical mother in many ways. She took charge and Jesus “performed” his first miracle.

And there we are again. Messiahs perform miracles. Preachers perform ceremonies. I suppose it’s a performance of sorts. When I get asked to do a wedding, I often assume it’s because of my years of experience. Truthfully, however, on the few occasions I’ve asked the bride and groom why they chose [image error]me for their service, the answer has almost always been the same. “You look like you’re pretty laid back.” If they only knew…

I wish I could take credit for the good ceremonies and bask in the sunlight of my performances. I’m don’t think that would be appropriate, however. Even though I’ve always dreamed of performing, I’m not sure being a wedding officiant qualifies.

One more thing… The last line of the Cana story says they “stayed for a few days.” That must have been some mighty, fine wine.

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He Called Me “Thumper”

[image error] I was approached by another author with the idea of submitting some of my work to a website dedicated primarily to authors. I wasn’t sure how that would work since most of my stuff has a definite spiritual bent to it. After thinking about it, I decided it was worth a try.

The first thing I noticed about this particular site was most of the posts are totally political. Then I noticed the authors, instead of supporting one another, ripped each other to shreds. I originally had supposed this was due to the political nature of the site. If anyone took a political stance, they were ripped apart by the opposition. Since I seldom take any kind of political stance (at least publically), I figured I was in the clear. This is when I discovered my new middle name—Dave Naïve Zuchelli.

Am I a One-Note-Johnny?

I published a few of my blogs on the site and got ripped for writing about spiritual subjects. One guy jumped on and asked me why I only submit articles that centered on faith. He explained that he was Jewish and never submitted articles about his particular faith journey. Another person jumped in to tell him off and encourage me to write about whatever my passion directed me to explore. I found the former’s remarks to be a bit curious since he only wrote about politics. If I was a one-note-Johnny, so was he.

After a long hiatus from that site, I recently wrote a blog that had no direct spiritual tie-in. It was about Bill Nye the Science Guy and entitled Having Extra Kids. It was a totally secular piece, although it’s topic touched upon ethical, moral, and political subjects. After I had written it, I realized it might be an item that would fit in with the motif of the above-mentioned site.

“I made one critical error.”

So, I looked up the site once again and submitted the article. I made one critical error, however. I included my mini-bio at the end (see the bottom of this blog). The article sparked a little conversation, but one guy just couldn’t get past the fact that I was, shall we say, a man of the cloth. He had nothing to say about the subject of the article (except to say it was “useless”). His only real comment was about who I am.

[image error]Here’s what he said: “Another useless ‘article’ by yet another thumper. Yawn. Yuuuge.” There’s nothing like a little constructive criticism, is there?

When I first read that he called me “Thumper,” I thought of Bambi’s little rabbit friend. Then I quickly realized he meant “Bible Thumper.” It actually made me smile. I can’t remember ever being called that before, and I kind of liked it. I answered his little quip with a reply that basically thanked him for the new nickname.

I have to tell you, I’m really tempted to incorporate that nickname into my writings somehow. If any of you want to start calling me, “Thumper,” I’m down with that.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

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Helping Someone Else

[image error]A few weekends ago, I traveled out of state to lead a retreat. I went with the idea that I would be helping someone else. The event went quite well. I felt like some goals were accomplished, and that I was actually able to help some else.

As it turns out, however, I think I’m the one who received the most help. I’m not really surprised by that, because (in my sixty-seven years) I’ve discovered this to be true in most cases. Any time I set out to help someone else, I usually come away with the feeling that I was the one receiving the benefit. I’m beginning to get the idea (finally) that the Lord set it all up that way.

The Spirit Really Spoke

Because I preach nearly every Sunday (at least), this feeling happens to me after many worship services. When the service is over, I don’t always know if I was able to help someone else, but I’m sure it helped me. Part of that is because I put in a lot of prep time researching and wrestling with the Scripture passage for that particular sermon. But a lot of the time, it’s the genuine feeling that the Holy Spirit really spoke to me through the very words that came out of my own mouth.

The same sort of thing often happens on short-term mission trips. I’ve taken groups into areas where people are in need. We’ve worked among them, met some of their needs, and reached some of our preset goals for the trip. Inevitably, I get back home with the feeling that I’ve been helped more than I’ve given.

How many times have you heard someone talk about the good feeling they have after having sacrificed time and effort to aid someone through a difficult time? Why would we feel good after having given away something of ourselves? I guess it’s like someone once said, “Love is the only thing you can give away and end up with more than you had when you began.”

Sacrifice is not merely a noble endeavor…

I suppose this is at least partly what Jesus was referring to when he said, “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” (Matthew 19:29) Not only is sacrifice a noble endeavor; it seems to reap its own rewards. Funny how that is…

It’s certainly not that we should do something merely so we can harvest a return for ourselves. Still, it’s nice to know that our best efforts don’t go unrewarded, as it sometimes seems.

[image error]

It’s certainly not that we should do something merely so we can harvest a return for ourselves. Still, it’s nice to know that our best efforts don’t go unrewarded, as it sometimes seems.

David Livingstone once wrote, “People talk of the sacrifice I have made in spending so much of my life in Africa. Is that a sacrifice which brings its own reward in healthful activity, the consciousness of doing good, peace of mind, and a bright hope of a glorious destiny? It is emphatically no sacrifice.”

I think he had it right.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

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Take it Home to Mama!

[image error]I was watching the national news recently while a southern U.S. Senator was being interviewed. I love southernisms already, and he added one to my lexicon.

He was letting the interviewer know that his vote was in the bag. His way of telling her was to say, “Take it home to Mama!” I love that!

Slap my Mother?

I’m not sure why, but the folks from the south seem to turn a phrase like nobody’s business. They have a way with words that just grabs me. I’m speaking of phrases like, “Well, slap yo’ Mama!” Like that one, many of them don’t actually make sense, but maybe that’s why I like them so much.

When I was a kid, there was a TV celebrity named Tennessee Ernie Ford. He was a singer and all around entertainer. His big line was, “Well, bless your little, pea-pickin’ heart.” I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose heart picked peas, but I still loved hearing him say it.

A friend of mine shared one with me recently. He was quoting someone else when he said, “If that don’t light your fire, your wood’s wet!” I can only smile when I hear stuff like that. It just tickles my innerds (sorry).

Painting Pictures

You may remember Jimmy Dean. If you don’t remember him, you might remember his sausage (which seems to have outlived him). Anyway, I once heard him say, “He’s as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers.” Now, that paints a picture!

Speaking of being uneasy[image error], there’s an old one that says, “She was as nervous as a whore in church.” I can’t seem to relate to that one, but it definitely paints a somewhat different scene for us.

Of course, there’s Flo’s ever popular, “Kiss my grits!” I never really liked that one myself, but most other people seem to love it. It’s just not imaginative enough for my tastes, I guess.

Years ago, I asked a guy from the south if he had lived there his whole life. He immediately shot back at me without skipping a beat, “So far…” I’m still laughing about that little interchange.

Sometime, ask someone from the deep south if they enjoyed their meal. You just might get this answer. “It will make yer tongue slap yer brains out.” I’d say it’s a pretty good meal if it can do that.

I’ve been living in northern Virginia for twenty years, and I’ve found that every once in awhile you can still run into a good ole boy who still uses some of those isms. I figure if I live here long enough, I might even become one of them. Being from western Pennsylvania, I’m short on southernisms (and long on droppin’ my g’s—if you get my drift). I can only hope. A good southern drawl is not easy to come by, and I never seem to remember the phrases when I need them.

Reckon I only got one oar in the water.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

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Gotta Love a Good Analogy

Facebook is a never-ending stream of material. A couple days ago, a friend of mine posted this list of “Really Bad Analogies Written by High School Students.” I just had to share them. Here goes…

Her eyes were like two brown circles, with big black dots in the center.
He was as tall as a 6’3” tree.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master
From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 pm instead of 7:30.
John and Mary never met. They were like two hummingbirds that had also never met.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh—like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something…
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock—like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
The lamp just sat there like an inanimate object.

It’s tough to choose, but I think my favorite is number nine. I have to say, however, the one about the lame duck (#8) is a close second. Admittedly, they’re all pretty funny.

Maybe the funniest thing of all about this article is the fact that these analogies are not analogies at all—they’re similes (not that I would have immediately recognized the difference, but it was pointed out to me by an unsuspecting English teacher).

[image error]This list reminds me of the old, Art Linkletter show on which he had a segment called “Kids Say the Darndest Things.” He used to line up little kids and ask them questions about everyday life. True to form, they would say the darndest things. Apparently, saying the darndest things doesn’t end when you’re ten years old. The high school students above did a pretty good job of that as well. In fact, I hear adults saying the darndest things quite often. We all need a good laugh from time to time, so I’m glad they do.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 tells us, “There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under the sun.” In the ensuing list of things, it includes “a time to laugh.”

The lame duck certainly did that for me. I hope you got a laugh from it as well. After all, laughter is like someone chuckling really hard.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

 

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A Shrewd Retirement

A while back, a friend of mine posted the following story on Facebook.

Oh, those Brits! [From The London Times]

Outside England ‘s Bristol Zoo there is a parking lot for 150 cars and 8 buses. For 25 years, its parking fees were managed by a very pleasant attendant. The fees for cars was $1.40 and for buses $7.

Then, one day, after 25 solid years of never missing a day of work, he just didn’t show up; so the zoo management called the city council and asked it to send them another parking agent.

The council did some research and replied that the parking lot was the zoo’s own responsibility. The zoo advised the council that the attendant was a city employee. The city council responded that the lot attendant had never been on the city payroll.

Meanwhile, sitting in his villa somewhere on the coast of Spain, or France or Italy, is a man who’d apparently had a ticket booth installed completely on his own and then had simply begun to show up every day, commencing to collect and keep the parking fees, estimated at about $560 per day for 25 years. Assuming 7 days a week, this amounts to just over $7 million dollars, and no one even knows his name.

I love this story. Frankly, I’m not exactly sure why I do. This unknown guy bilked thousands of people for millions of dollars. I should hate this story. The guy was evil—at least he was underhanded and a cheat.

I guess I like it because he was creative, bold, and persistent. There’s something about his entrepreneurial spirit that is inspiring. Why no one ever questioned him all those years is amazing. I think I would have chickened out after the first week (if I had made it that far at all).[image error]

Come to think of it, though, Jesus told a positive story about such a guy. This man, however, actually worked for someone. He managed the boss’s olive oil business. He did a poor job of it, however, and was wasting the owner’s money and resources.

The boss called him in and fired him, but told him he had to make an account of his management before he left. In order to have something to show, the manager went to some of the boss’s debtors and marked down their bill if they agreed to pay up immediately. He was able to convince enough people to do so that he had some money to give the owner.

Interestingly enough, the owner commended his dishonest manager for being shrewd. This parable is found in Luke 16:1-15. It’s one of the most difficult of the parables to understand. It is so, in part, because it seems so out of character for Jesus to tell such a story.

So, I guess it’s okay for me to like the Brit in our beginning story. He was shrewd, and apparently, that’s a good thing. Who knew?

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

 

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The New Pornographers

I subscribe to one of those services that sends e-mails concerning all the latest concerts in my area. I don’t have time to get to as many concerts as I’d like, so this helps me narrow things down to the ones I’m really anxious to see (and hear live).[image error] I received an update from them a few days ago and ran across a band I’d never heard of before.

The band’s name is The New Pornographers. Frankly, I haven’t quite gotten over the old pornographers as yet. I jumped on the Internet to see what kind of band they are. They’re listed as an indie (independent) band. That, of course, doesn’t tell you much, so I listened to a little of their music. They seemed to be good musicians, but their style didn’t do much for me. I’m not going to buy any of their stuff and won’t be headed to their concert (but don’t let that stop you—the reviews were good).

“It’s like a magnet.”

The point of all this is quite simple. I see a lot of bands advertised but seldom look them up. The name was intriguing, so I checked them out.

I’m guessing that at least a few of you are reading this article simply because the word, pornographers, is in the title. Like several other words in our English vocabulary, it’s like a magnet. People are drawn to it.

A few months ago, I wrote a blog entitled, Fifty More Shades of Gray. It was spurred by the violence following our presidential election last November. I got called on it for using a title that was an obvious play on the BDSM novel, “Fifty Shades of Gray.” The blog had nothing to do with the novel (or sex in general), but my readership tripled that day.

I guess the old adage, “sex sells,” is true. Unfortunately, my blogs are seldom (if ever) about sex. The occasional sexy title does boost my following, however. It certainly points to one of the things in which folks are interested. Sex definitely does sell. Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately), I’m not selling anything (unless you want to buy my book (The Last Wedding). Sorry for the shameless plug.

“People are fascinated with mortality.”

The only other thing that seems to interest people even more than sex is death. Every time I lose a friend or relative to the Grim Reaper (so to speak), I write about it. My readership skyrockets during those times as well. I would never have guessed it.[image error]

People seem fascinated with mortality. It makes me wonder why the apostles seemed to ignore Jesus when he told them he was going to Jerusalem to die (as well as be raised up). He told them this at least three times that we know of. They never quite bought it. I suppose they were either in denial, or they just assumed he was being figurative. Maybe they thought he was just speaking forth some obscure parable.

Hmmm… Maybe he should have given it some sexy title.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently the pastor of Smith Chapel, in Great Falls, VA.]

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Having Extra Kids

[image error] I’ve never actually had the privilege of seeing “Bill Nye the Science Guy” on TV. I’m told it was very popular with the kiddies, and aired from 1993 to 1998. It was billed as “Mr. Wizard meets Pee Wee Herman.” Having been a big fan of both Mr. Wizard and Pee Wee, I’m sorry I missed it (but not enough to watch YouTube reruns).

Mr. Nye is more famous in recent years for his debate with Ken Hamm over Creation Science. He’s also been doing a show for Netflix entitled “Bill Nye Saves the World.” I wish him luck on that endeavor (not for the show as much as for saving the world). It was on this show that he sparked a lively, new controversy.

In a panel discussion, Nye asked the question, “Should we have policies that penalize people for having extra kids in the developed world?” Asking questions is what scientists do. It is at the very heart of their work. Asking this particular question, however, caused a bit of a stir.

Bill Nye the Hitler Guy?

The question (and the conversation that ensued) drew immediate attention from all kinds of people. There were some rather quick retorts that attempted to make it clear that Nye was stepping across a line somewhere. He was referred to as “Bill Nye the Eugenics Guy” and “Bill Nye the Hitler Guy.”

Interestingly enough, Bill Nye is not really a science guy (unless we call mechanical engineers science guys). He does have several inventions to his credit as well as a keen interest in science education. On top of that, he has been awarded several honorary doctorates from various institutions of higher education. He seems to receive all this recognition as much for his ability to entertain as for his knowledge of science itself.

All in all, he’s quite accomplished. Skeptics, liberals, and children seem to love him, and he has parlayed all that into a substantial living. Now he’s saving the world.

I’m in good stead…I think…

I’m not sure if the Science Guy thinks we should actually penalize first world parents for having too many kids. To me, however, the most curious word in his question is “extra.” My initial reactio[image error]n was to think he meant “more than two.” Scientists and sociologists have often put forth the number two as the optimal maximum children per family.

This would put me in good stead since I’ve only been responsible for bringing two biological children into this world. Plus, I am the eldest of two siblings in my own family. After thinking about it, though, the “extra” child might be the second one (or even the first). It all depends on who is doing the deciding.

Another option might be one in which the authorities (whoever they may be) would decide who the extras are. In that case, the Science Guy might be deemed an “extra” himself. Maybe he should reconsider the extra thing. I’m sure I would. I don’t think he wants to be known as Bill Nye the Next Guy.

[Dave Zuchelli is a graduate of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and is currently pastor of Smith Chapel in Great Falls, VA.]

 

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