Like many others, I pay attention to the news headlines. I know the frightening possibilities of global war posed by expansionist policies. Preemptive strikes on Iran have followed Israel’s relentless attacks and seizure of property in Gaza. U.S. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, who has demonstrated his inability to observe standard security procedures, has acknowledged “contingency” plans to take Greenland by force and other plans for the invasion of Panama.

I have read articles about the tragedy of the London-bound Air India Boeing 787 that crashed on takeoff in Ahmedabad, killing 241 people, with a single survivor, and sending dozens of medical students to the hospital when it came down in a residential neighborhood.

I have been paying attention to the illegal and unnecessary deployment of the National Guard and Marines to respond to a small eruption of violence during protests in Los Angeles. I can see how the administration is trying to use the events to distract attention from its attempts to increase costs and decrease services to 99% of Americans to partially fund a tax cut for the wealthiest 1% while increasing the national debt beyond reason.

I have watched the administration’s abandonment of its promise to depart violent criminals, raiding schools, service centers, parking lots, farms, and food processing plants, detaining and deporting people with no criminal records, dividing children from parents, and couples from each other. I have witnessed the irrational attempts at mass deportations without due process.

I have read the Declaration of Independence’s list of grievances against the King and recognize those grievances in the behavior of the current US president.

I buy groceries and have seen empty shelves caused by supply chain issues. I purchase fuel for my vehicles and pay attention to the cost, and know that yesterday’s attack on Iran will drive up the world price of oil.

However, there are other realities in this world. I choose to pay attention to them as well.

The blue herons in the rookery near our home do not base their behavior on the short attention span of the news cycle. They are busy feeding chicks and preparing them to fledge. They must catch as many fish as possible to maintain the protein necessary for a generation's successful passing. The herons use the long daylight hours here in the north to catch mackerel and other small fish in the tidal zones. When the tide is out, we watch dozens of the large birds stand in the shallow surf seeking the tiny fish in the shallow water. As the tide comes in, the birds move closer to the beach, choosing places with just the right water depth for fishing success. When the tide is entirely in, they move into the tidal regions of the creeks that run into the sea.

By watching the behavior of the herons, I have learned that they fly at different altitudes depending on the sea state. When the tide is in and the sea is calm, they fly higher in the sky. They will land and perch on bridge railings and tree branches that stretch over the water. When the tide is out, they fly close to the water's surface, ready to splash down suddenly.

I don’t know if the eagles imitate the heron’s behavior or vice versa, but when the herons fly high, the eagles are perched in the tree tops. When the herons are standing in the shallow water in the tidal flats, the eagles will land on the sand bars to eat their catch.

I have lived a thousand miles from the shore of the sea most of my life. I am a newcomer to this coastal place and am not an expert in the behavior of birds or fish. Although I intend to learn how to harvest food from the sea, I have yet to gain the skills of clam digging, crab trapping, and oyster catching that locals possess. So far, I do my fishing at a local market on the Lummi Reservation, where indigenous fishers use sustainable practices passed down since time immemorial and exercise hard-won treaty rights to earn their living.

I have been honing my observation skills in my retirement years. I have tried to pay attention to the birds. I have watched the seagulls flying their clams to drop them on hard pavement to access the tasty contents. I have listened to them squabble as one seeks to take advantage of the bounty discovered by another. I watch the oystercatchers working the sand flats when the tide is out and the cormorants diving in the harbor.

While humans have an immense impact on our planet, as demonstrated by global warming, drought patterns, major storms of increasing intensity, habitat destruction, and loss of diversity, other creatures continue to adapt and illustrate the resiliency of creation. When dams are breached and habitat is restored, the salmon quickly return to spawn, and the ocean mammals rapidly learn to follow. Despite air and water pollution and the encroachment of coastal development, the fish and birds continue to raise young and populate their places in the ecosystem.

We live in a world of incredible complexity and chaos caused by human greed and overconsumption. We are facing government and sustainability crises resulting from our own choices and the choices of others. Human overpopulation threatens our capacity to survive as a species. The news cycle darts from crisis to crisis without a discernible pattern. Meanwhile, the herons raise their chicks, flying from the sea to the trees and back again. The eagles hatch high in the trees and learn to fish and hunt from their parents in a cycle that has been going on since before humans came to this place. Indigenous fishers go to sea as their grandfathers have since time immemorial. Life has amazing resiliency and adaptability.

As an added bonus, the herons are teaching me the power of patience. There are moments when entering the fray and witnessing to the truth in the face of injustice are important. There are other moments when quiet patience and persistent prayer provide paths to peace. I will continue to pay attention to other humans. I will continue to love, care, and act. But I will also spend time watching the herons. I still have much to learn from them.

This is the last week of school before summer vacation for our grandchildren near us. Our grandson in South Carolina has a different schedule. He has been on vacation for a couple of weeks, and he returns to school in the fall earlier than our grandchildren here in Washington. Our oldest grandchild turned 14 in February. His age brings me memories of my teen years. The summer I turned 14 was the first summer I had a job away from home. I worked for my uncle and cousin on their farms for a few weeks that year, preparing for and working the harvest. I had been paid for jobs in my father’s business in the years before that, and I had earned money mowing lawns and delivering newspapers, but at 14, there were a few weeks when I worked full-time. I stayed at the ranch, and each morning after breakfast, I went to work and worked through the day until dinner. We didn’t count hours. I was paid by the day. I drove a tractor cultivating weeds in their dryland farming operation. They raised wheat in strips, keeping the ground between strips fallow so the ground would retain moisture for the next year when the strips would be reversed and last year’s wheat fields lay fallow, and this year’s fallow fields were planted. The practice has since changed with different crop rotations and no-till farming practices. Then, when the barley and wheat were ripe, everyone on the farm worked in the harvest until the grain was in the bins. Harvest days were long.

We got everything greased, fueled, and ready to cut as soon as the dew was off the grain and the moisture was right. We’d usually get to the field by 7 am and be running by 8. Then the combines would run until dark, between 8 and 9 pm. Meals were brought to us in the field, and we’d eat in shifts to keep the combines and trucks running. I usually drove a field haul truck. The combines emptied into my truck on the go, without stopping. That meant matching the combine speed and keeping the distance between the truck and combine just right. When my truck was full, I drove to the bins and emptied it into an elevator that took the grain to the top of the bins. Then I returned to the field. We usually ran two trucks per combine. My cousin and uncle worked together in harvest, generally two combines and three or four trucks, depending on how far the field was from the bins.

It has been nearly 60 years, and I don’t remember the job as a burden. I can remember being tired. When I returned to the farmhouse, I was often first in line for the shower because I was the youngest. I could shower and be asleep in bed in less than 15 minutes. I did that job two summers before moving on to other summer jobs. The fun thing about my summer farm jobs was that I got paid after harvest, just like the rest of the family. That meant I had no money all summer, though all my food and housing expenses were covered. Then, after harvest, I got a single check for the entire summer. From a 14- or 15-year-old perspective, I was instantly rich. The check went into my bank account, but I made a few purchases before school started in the fall.

Our 14-year-old grandson got his first bank account this year, depositing his paycheck for a week of serving as a page in the state House of Representatives. Of course, times have changed. I had a passbook that I took to the bank to withdraw cash, usually $5 or $10 at a time. I made about the same amount in a summer as he made in a week. And he doesn’t have a passbook. He has a plastic debit card that he can use to make purchases. He has very specific rules about purchases, and the use of the card is closely monitored by his parents, who can access his bank records online. This is necessary because the card enables him to make online purchases. I couldn’t have imagined such when I was his age.

He does not have a summer job, so his income is limited. He will get a few days’ pay when the hay is cut. Last summer was his first summer bucking bales. He’s still too short to toss bales onto the trailer, so his job is driving the pickup pulling the trailer around the field from bale to bale while older teens toss and stack the bales. When they get to the barn, he climbs up and stacks bales in the lift with the others, and takes his turn feeding bales onto the elevator from the trailer.

Like him, I wasn’t yet old enough for a driver’s license, so my driving was confined to the field and the road between the fields and the farmyard. He’s not yet driven on a road. That’ll come in a couple of years. However, I could ride my bike nearly everywhere I wanted. Our grandchildren’s farm is on a busy road. They are limited to the farmyard or need an adult with a vehicle to drive their bikes to town or trails where they can ride.

I’m back to my teenage level of activity on my bike. I live where I can bike nearly anywhere I want to go in a 20-mile radius from our house. I have to avoid the roads with no shoulder where the traffic goes fast. I ride to the farm, but it is 2.7 miles when I drive. Taking the back roads on my bike, it is 7.2 miles to the farm. I am retired, so I ride my bike to the farm several times weekly. Other days, I ride along the beach or to the grocery store or other places. It reminds me of the summers before I started working on the farm. I’m back to not having a summer job, so I get to ride my bike every day. Freedom is sweet.

I was lucky. I had jobs I enjoyed for all of my life. I didn’t mind going to work. Still, it is kind of sweet to get up, eat my breakfast, and go for a bike ride. Some days I ride for 20 or 30 miles before breakfast. It’s my choice. Life is good.

Fifty years ago, I started working at Mimanagish, a summer camp in Montana, following my first year of graduate theological education. The previous school year had been intense. I had been successful in my undergraduate studies. I was confident in my academic abilities, but the challenges of graduate school were significantly different than those I had encountered in my earlier educational career. It is no longer that way, but back then, theological education involved living in community and pursuing academic studies. Our seminary required students to reside on campus. Our first three classes were intensives. Instead of taking multiple classes simultaneously, we began with classes we pursued full-time, taking one at a time. The classes involved significant reading, structured conversations inviting us to pursue deep meanings, and visits to churches, agencies, and retreat centers outside the seminary. Those of us who entered the seminary in the fall of 1974 formed a cohort of colleagues. We quickly got to know each other well and bonded over our learning experiences. In addition to gaining our degrees, we formed lifelong friendships.

Among the colleagues we met in those first intensives is Rev. Dr. Tony Floyd, who served congregations in Australia before being appointed Uniting Church National Director of Multicultural and Cross-cultural Ministry. His ministry involved developing and strengthening connections with migrant and Indigenous Australians. The seminary required us to live in seminary housing, so we also got to know Tony’s family. His wife and two children were part of meals shared, conversations pursued into the evening hours, and outings. They traveled to Montana with us twice during our seminary careers. Because we served our careers on two continents, we have only seen each other face to face infrequently over the decades. However, we have remained steadfast friends and colleagues.

Tony returned to the United States and visited us in each home we lived in since completing our seminary educations. In 1995, he and his wife Shirley helped us move from Idaho to South Dakota during one of his long service leaves. In 2006, we took our family to Australia and traveled with Tony and his family.

When we get together, whether in person, by telephone, or in an Internet video conference, we can pick up the conversation as if we had not been separated. The trust that we have developed and nurtured over the decades means that we immediately feel free to say what is most important to us. We have been present for each other through times of grief and loss, celebration, and change and adjustment.

Our relationship with Tony and his family has taught me a great deal about transcendence. Christian community takes place over great distances and long periods. We are connected with deep bonds, not limited to any single time or place. Our abiding faith in resurrection enables us to feel a deep connection with those who served before we were born, with those we have known who have died, and with those who will come after us. We are all part of a community that transcends time and location.

In Greek, the language of the Christian scriptures, there are two essential concepts of time. Chronos refers to chronological time measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years. It flows in a consistent direction and has a specific order of events. Kairos signifies the “right time” or the “appointed season” where God is revealed. The Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) all report an experience in which the disciples witnessed Jesus conversing with Elijah and Moses, biblical prophets who lived and died before their time. The descriptions point to an experience beyond words and an experience in which the chronological sequence of time seemed out of order. This is just one example of Kairos time.

Writing about Kairos is a challenge because our experiences are rooted in chronology. We look back at our lives and experience a narrative in which events occurred in a specific order. We want to tell the story with a beginning, middle, and end. When theologians write of Kairos, their narratives cannot follow the same logical outline. The order of events and experiences is not always the same. We try to create order. As students, we were all required to write a systematic theology that put our faith into a logical pattern. Some students were better at this task than others. I struggled with the challenge and have never been satisfied with my results. My faith defies a consistent outline. Holding my mother’s hand as she lay dying is as present in my life today as it was fifteen years ago. Many conversations in my life are ongoing. We may take a break, but the conversation continues. I can pick up my phone or turn on a video conferencing application on my computer and instantly pick up conversations with friends. This doesn’t mean that chronological time is suspended. We are all growing older. The number of days left in our lives is finite. The clocks in Tony’s home are 17 hours ahead of the clocks in my home. We cannot ignore those realities.

It is equally valid that we cannot ignore Kairos. Ross Snyder, the teacher who led our first intensive as theology students, has become a part of who we are. Part of what Tony and I have in common is that some of the same teachers have shaped us. We use common phrases and bits of coded language that we learned from Ross. When Tony and I talk, Ross is a part of every conversation, even though Ross died decades ago. Because we have read and discussed the same books, some authors are present in our discussions. When we speak of the prophetic imagination, Walter Brueggemann enters our dialogue. We have lived our lives immersed in the same sacred texts that connect us not only with each other but also with faithful people of generations past and generations yet to come.

If you are a regular reader of my journal posts, you have already experienced a bit of Kairos energy. I repeat myself, I tell the same stories over and over. I imagine the future and then imagine it differently. I have topics to which I return repeatedly, but some entries come out of the blue. I don't know where to begin when I try to organize my journals. Twenty years of essays is a disorganized jumble. Although my archives are organized by date, they don’t flow in the order I wrote them.

I have dear friends who want to unpack meanings and solve mysteries. I prefer to allow the mystery to remain. They are capable of telling a story in chronological order. Whenever I try, I find I have failed to tell the whole story.

I have a vague memory of some Sunday School lessons from my childhood. I was only six years old when the Evangelical and Reformed Church joined in union with the Congregational Christian Church to form the United Church of Christ. I was ten years old when the “new” curriculum began to appear. One of the first tasks of the newly formed denomination was to produce a comprehensive set of graded Sunday School curricula. The curricula featured a guide to preschool education titled “3s in the Christian Community,” hard-backed books for elementary children, soft-bound take-home books, music books, and more. However, the memory to which I am referring is of a set of Sunday School lessons that were presented before that new curriculum was produced. Since I can remember the comic book style lessons, I believe the David C. Cook company produced the curriculum. I remember that it was a set of lessons featuring biblical heroes. Noah built a boat and rounded up a pair of every animal on earth. Moses was presented as a larger-than-life leader of the people who dared to stand up to Pharaoh. David was a nearly superhuman character who brought down the giant Goliath with a slingshot and a stone. Elijah defeated 450 Baal prophets on Mount Carmel by magically producing fire. Daniel faced the lion’s den unarmed and prevailed. I suppose there were New Testament heroes in the curriculum, but I don’t remember them. I wonder if the material presented female biblical heroes such as Esther, Ruth, and Deborah. I can’t remember any.

Over the years, as a teacher and writer of curricula for Christian education and faith formation, I have written lessons about biblical heroes. One series published by the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, was called the Storyteller Series, and I wrote lessons featuring Eli, Samuel, and others.

The problem with teaching children about biblical heroes is that it is too easy to focus attention on human strength, cunning, leadership, and wisdom. While those qualities are to be celebrated, the core of faith formation must be God. God, not Noah, provided salvation for the earth's creatures. God made a covenant promise never to destroy the world again. It was God who led Israel out of slavery in Egypt, not Moses. It was God who allowed Israel to prevail over the Philistine Army, not David. It was God who guided and protected Elijah. It was God who gave Esther the courage to save her people. God blessed Ruth’s commitment to her mother-in-law and provided a future for her people. It was God who granted wisdom to Deborah. If our goal is to enable faith formation in those we teach, we must remember where that faith must be focused.

I believe that this has real-world consequences in our time. I am in conversation with a lot of Christians in these particularly troubled times. People of faith are wrestling with their genuine desire to avoid anti-semitism and their willingness to feed and protect innocent children and families in Gaza. People of faith feel called by that faith to stand with immigrants who are being rounded up and detained without due process. They are angry at the illegal and immoral abuse of power demonstrated by a lawless president and the abdication of responsibility by Senators and congresspersons. I’ve read and heard several sermons calling for Christians to rise, participate in protests, and engage in civil disobedience.

I agree that now is the time for Christians to act on their faith. I believe in Christian social action. I have preached and written about the need to speak up in defense of God’s creation, against the injustices of pollution, and against the consequences of global warming. I believe Christians have a solid example in the actions of brave preachers and leaders of the Civil Rights movement.

However, I worry that some of my faithful colleagues have missed an essential part of that action. When armed National Guard troops confront those engaging in protest, when the president illegally orders military to stand against the people, the temptation is to fall into the trap of increased violence. At this critical juncture in American History, nonviolent action is most needed. Despite the administration’s attempts to ramp up violence in search of made-for-television video clips for Fox News, lasting change will not come through violence. The few protesters who have lit fires and thrown rocks are playing into the hands of the media manipulators. They are giving the president exactly what he wants to deflect the news cycle away from the news of his active participation with Jeffrey Epstein in the sexual abuse of minors and the enslavement of women.

More importantly, sustained action over a long period of time will be demanded of us. The current waves of injustice and oppression sweeping across our land could persist for a long time. Those who seek freedom for all will need strength for the long haul. To sustain that strength, one must have firm faith in God and an understanding that, despite how it now seems, justice will prevail, and peace is possible.

We must be firmly rooted in the faith that God can bring about the required change. Of course, we need to stand with God and be open to the movement of the Spirit. We are not called to be passive in the face of injustice and authoritarianism. But we must understand that we cannot prevail by ourselves. If we place our faith in our abilities, we will fail. Suppose we forget that God could sort out the human folly of the Tower of Babel, or forget that God could guide the survival of Israel through defeat and exile, or forget that God could bring about resurrection in the face of the cross. In that case, we might convince ourselves that it falls to us to bring salvation to our people.

God will provide the leaders we need in this critical time. We are called to faith that God is still in charge of this world. That faith will give us the resilience and strength for the difficult times that lie ahead.

Tributes to Walter Brueggemann continue to pour in. His death last week caused a ripple among the authors and websites that I read. Reading some of the obituaries and blog posts that attempt to summarize his life has been interesting. Writers are filled with respect and admiration for the contributions of Brueggemann, the most influential biblical scholar of our time. Several have referred to his book, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy, as his magnum opus. Forbes in their blog post called the 777-page book his magna opera. You have to be a student of Latin to catch their subtle distinction. Magna opera is the plural of magnum opus. Both refer to a significant work of art, music, or literature. The references to magnum opus attempt to choose a single work as the most important. I see no reason to do so when it comes to Brueggemann.

First of all, choosing just one is a huge task. His output was staggering. The bibliography of all of his published books is 20 pages long and includes 120 titles. While many authors struggle over their first book, Walter published three in 1968, the year of his first published book. Despite his dizzying literary output during his active career, he accelerated publication after he retired. Roughly half of his books were published post-retirement. While many scholars aspire to three or four books throughout a successful career, he published fourteen in his 90th and 91st years. Given that prolific output, choosing one and calling it the most significant is impossible.

Brueggemann’s biographer, Conrad Kanagy, chose to reflect one of his books in the title of the biography, which is titled “Walter Brueggemann’s Prophetic Imagination.” I agree that Walter’s book, The Prophetic Imagination, is among his most important contributions to biblical scholarship and the art of preaching. Initially published in 1978, the year I was ordained, it has remained in publication with a second edition in 2001 and a 40th anniversary edition in 2018. It seems to me to be a critically relevant book for contemporary preachers, especially in the light of the rise of authoritarianism in the United States and the pseudo-Christian claims of Project 2025.

Personally, as important as his theological works are, I have been touched by his essays as much as his scholarly books. His essay “The Costly Loss of Lament” should be required reading, and discussion of it should be a part of the theological education of every pastor. It is life-changing and would be church-changing if more pastors took it seriously. It appears in the book “The Psalms and the Life of Faith,” a collection of essays edited by his brother-in-law, Patrick Miller.

Equally impactful on my life as a pastor and my work with the church are several collections of prayers. A small volume to which I frequently turn is titled “Prayers for a Privileged People.” His prayer of Illumination addresses God in a powerful, poetic fashion:

Truth-telling, wind-blowing, life-giving spirit —
we present ourselves now
for our instruction and guidance;
breathe your truth among us,
breathe your truth of deep Friday loss,
your truth of awesome Sunday joy.

Walter understood the power of poetry and often referred to the biblical prophets as poets. Even though he could produce a huge amount of literature and write challenging and complex theological tomes, he kept a deep appreciation for the economy of language and the power of a few words to make a difference. When the times demand speaking truth to power, it is the poets who have the words most needed. Indeed, we live in such times. Brueggemann was aware of the excesses of empire and the injustices of unequal distribution of wealth and power. He challenged pastors to rise to the task of prophetic preaching. He was a preacher’s preacher, influential in the pulpit and deeply engaging when he spoke. He had a quick wit and appreciated a good joke. His gravely laugh was a gift to all who heard his voice. Each time I heard him speak, I returned with a renewed dedication to my life’s work. Unlike Brueggemann, I have not produced literary output. I am currently in the midst of the struggle of producing a single book. The focus of my life’s work was oral language. I have been a preacher and sought to interpret the scriptures with congregations in ways that inspire others to express their faith in service.

Biographer Conrad Kanagy once told me in conversation that he asked Walter about multiple drafts and the process of rewriting. Walter responded that he didn’t rewrite any of his books. He produced a draft and went on to the next one. That report staggered me. On deeper reflection, however, I realized it is exactly what I do with my journal entries. I write an essay each day and move on to the next. I have tried several times to edit collections of the essays, but I doubt that I could ever do so because when I read what I have previously written, I am seized by the urge to make corrections and changes. The book I am working on is in its 7th draft on my computer, and I know that only the publication deadline will stop me from wanting to make changes. I might never finish the project if I left it to my own schedule.

While books are powerful and Walter’s books will continue to inspire and challenge ministers for generations to come, I think that in the end, his books, as wonderful as and meaningful as they are, are not the most important legacy left behind by Walter Brueggemann. More than an author, Walter was a teacher. He has inspired generations of preachers. One of my colleagues and mentors once confessed that he temporarily misplaced the Bible he had used as a student in Brueggemann’s classes. When the book was buried among other books in a move, he continued to preach, but did not deliver a single sermon on an Old Testament text until the missing bible was found. He felt he could not preach without the notes he had taken in class. I’m not enslaved by notes taken, but I know I can’t preach without recognizing the influence of Brueggemann on my choice of words.

Walter has died from this life as we all one day will. But his presence is very real in the words of countless preachers whose lives he touched. Their sermons, however, are not his true legacy. The true legacy is in the actions of the congregations inspired by those sermons.