From a Rocky Hillside

February 23, 2025February 23, 2025

We’re God’s Tenants

Jeff Garrison
Bluemont and Mayberry Churches
Mark 11:27-12:12
February 23, 2025

Sermon recorded at Bluemont Church on Friday, February 21, 2025

At the beginning of worship:

Cover of Linda Flower's book, "Throwed Away"

“’Throwed away’ is an expression peculiar to eastern North Carolina. If a piece of land or a person or a stretch along a highway looks ‘throwed away,’ it can be in no worse shape,” writes Linda Flowers in the preface to her book titled, Throwed Away.“Fields left unattended and overcome with cockleburs are ‘throwed away.’ Ramshackly houses with boarded-up windows and rotten porches, or country stores that have bitten the dust are ‘throwed away.’

Flowers grew up in Faison, North Carolina toward the end of the share-cropping era. Her family share cropped. In 1968, she left the state for graduate school in Ohio and later New York. When she returned in 1980, the change startled her.

The end of tenant farming is generally thought to have occurred in the mid to late 1960s, as machinery reduced the number of hands needed on farms. Of course, some continued afterwards, but the economy of sharecropping was on its way out. A few sharecroppers gained enough cash to buy their own land, but most moved into factories and other forms of labor.

Flowers, in her book, set out to recapture the world of her youth which she describes in this manner. “At its best, tenantry was exploitative; at its worst, it was a kind of slavery.”^[1] Such farming practices weren’t new. As we’ll see today, they existed in Jesus’ day.

Before reading the Scripture:
We’re back in Mark’s gospel, picking up where I left off in November. If you remember, during Advent I jumped ahead and we looked at the 13^th Chapter of Mark, which pertains to Jesus’ 2^nd Coming. That’s an Advent topic. Today, our text begins with Mark 11:27. From here through the end of the12^th chapter of Mark, we see the conflict around Jesus’ ministry intensify. Various groups try to trick him or cause him to incriminate himself. But Jesus proves to be up for the challenge.

The economic world of Palestine in the first century was one of poor tenant farmers who slaved to raise crops and then had to give a significant portion of their income to the absentee owners.^[2] This was a system like what went on after Civil War in the South, where those without land struggled and worked the lands of those owned by former plantation owners who had depended on slaves.

In a way, a tenant farmer was just a step or two above a slave. He could leave, but where could he go? We know Jesus often takes the plight of the downtrodden. In both first century Palestine and in the South from the 1860s until the 1960s, tenant farmers were mostly downtrodden. But in the parable Jesus tells, he flips the story. Here, the owner of the land is generous. The tenants are evil.

Our passage begins with Jesus’ third visit to Jerusalem after his arrival on the day we refer to as Palm Sunday. This would be Tuesday of Holy Week. It appears Jesus left the city each night and stayed in Bethany, where perhaps the lodging was cheaper. The next morning, he came back to the city and headed for the temple.

Read Mark 11:27-12:12
Early in Mark’s gospel, we have the story of Jesus in the synagogue in Capernaum, which became the center of his Galilean ministry. There, Jesus impressed the people with his authority. His speech was beyond anything they’d heard from the scribes.

He followed this up with his authority over evil spirits.^[3] In that early encounter, the question was raised as to where Jesus obtained his authority.

Now that we’re into Jesus’ last week of his earthly ministry, we learn the question over Jesus’ authority continues to linger. Early in Mark’s gospel, the freshness of his teachings caused his popularity to rise. He comes to Jerusalem as a popular man. Those who held the authority at the temple fear him.

This is the third day in a row that Jesus enters Jerusalem. But it’s not the city itself which interests him, it’s the temple. He immediately heads for the temple which stands high over the city, as he has done of the previous two days.^[4]

We can imagine Jesus and the some of the disciples walking along the massive courtyards and porticos around the temple. A group of religious leaders approach him: chief priests, scribes, and elders. These three groups made up the Sanhedrin, leaders of the faith who also handled the precarious relationship with Rome.^[5]

It was probably just a representative group of the Sanhedrin who approached Jesus as the entire body consisted of seventy-one members.^[6] They know Jesus has been making a stir around Jerusalem from his entry parade^[7] to his overturning tables and chasing out livestock the day before.^[8] So, they ask Jesus by what authority does he do such things.

Jesus doesn’t give a direct answer. If he said, “my Father in heaven,” not only would they probably not accepted it, but they may also have used it as a reason to charge Jesus with blasphemy. Instead, Jesus asks a question. Questioning back and forth was a standard tactic in debates of the day.^[9]

Jesus’ question as to the authority of John the Baptist, places the Sanhedrin in a bind. If they say John’s authority came from heaven, Jesus could pin them down as to why they didn’t believe John. And if they say his authority was human, the people who see John as a prophet might revolt. So, the leaders’ refusal to answer Jesus’ question allows him not to answer theirs.

I should point out that Mark understands Jesus’ fate is tied to John’s fate.^[10] Both will give their lives to stand up for their principles.

This sets the stage for Jesus to tell the last major parable of his ministry recorded by Mark, the Parable of the Wicked Tenants.^[11]Jesus’ familiarity with the Prophet Isaiah can be seen in this parable which parallels the prophet’s “Song of the Unfruitful Vineyard.”^[12] In both cases, the owner plants a vineyard, encloses it, builds a tower and winepress.

In Isaiah, the story hinges around the vineyard yielding only sour wine. Think vinegar. The owner decides to do away with the vineyard, which the prophet links to God punishing Israel for its lack of faith.

Jesus’ parable starts the same way with a man planting a vineyard, putting a fence around it and building a tower and winepress. I’m sure the Jewish authorities who heard the beginning of Jesus’ story immediately recalled Isaiah’s song. They knew where Jesus was going, that he was addressing them.

But then Jesus’ story takes a dramatic shift from Isaiah. In both cases, the owner of the vineyard represents God. But in Jesus’ story, instead of the vineyard producing a bad crop, the owner of the vineyard relocates to a foreign land. Think heaven. He hands his farm over to tenant farmers.

At the time of the crop, the owner sends back a slave to collect the owner’s share of the crop. But instead of paying up, the tenants beat up the slave and send him back to the owner limping and bruised. He sends others, but the same thing happens. The representatives of the owner are beaten or killed.

Finally, the man sends his son, thinking they will honor him. That, of course, doesn’t happen. The owner provides the tenants multiple opportunities to keep up their end of the bargain. Seeing the son who is the heir to the property, they decide to kill him. Perhaps they think the owner has died and, with the son out of the way, they can claim the property for themselves. Not only do they murder the son, but they also disrespect the body by throwing it out to decay. Of course, the owner isn’t dead and will come and destroy those tenants.

Jesus concludes with a verse from the 118^th Psalm, of the rejected stone becoming the cornerstone.^[13]

Mark tells us the religious leaders realize the parable’s intention. They desire to do away with Jesus but are afraid of the crowd. However, not only is this parable about them, who have ignored the prophets call, it’s also about Jesus. He’s the son who represents the father. He’s the son, the rejected one, who will become the cornerstone in the new covenant God establishes with his people.

As I pointed out before reading the passage, Jesus turns this story its head. Instead of siding with the tenants, he portrays them with wicked hearts. Sin doesn’t reside in just one class of people. Rich and poor are equally guilty.

I’m sure the religious leaders didn’t want to see themselves as tenants. They think of themselves as leaders. Yet, they’re still responsible to God. In fact, we’re all tenants on God’s good earth. A steward is another way of describing our position. God gives us talents and the good earth. We only have possession of it for a short period of time. Sooner or later, we must give it back. Do we make good use of God’s gift?

As the Psalmist proclaims so elegantly, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it.”^[14] We must always remember who is in charge; our allegiance belongs to God. As tenants, we’re to be doing the work of the owner.

Another thing Mark confirms about Jesus is that the Savior discouraged any radical attempt to forcefully bring about the kingdom. Jesus discourages taking up arms against Rome.^[15] In the parable, Jesus points out that the rulers (the wicked tenants) are out for their own well-being, not representing God.^[16]

Mark paints a darkening picture of forces gathering around Jesus. In two days, the “Son” will be arrested in the garden. The following day he will be killed outside the city walls. The peaceful man who devoted his ministry to doing good and teaching kindness is about to live into the parable he told. Mark leaves it to his readers to decide which side we’ll be on. Amen.

^[1] Linda Flowers, Throwed Away: Failures of Progress in Eastern North Carolina (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1990), 64.

^[2] James R. Edwards, The Gospel According to Mark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 354-356; Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel According to Saint Mark (1991, Hendrickson Publishers, 1997), 274; and William L. Lane, The New International Commentary on the New Testament: The Gospel of Mark (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1974), 416.

^[3] Mark 1:21-28. See https://fromarockyhillside.com/2024/01/21/jesus-in-the-synagogue/

^[4] Mark 11:11 and 15.

^[5] Edwards, 350.

^[6] Edwards, 350.

^[7] Mark 11:1-11, https://fromarockyhillside.com/2024/11/17/7549/

^[8] Mark 11:15-19, https://fromarockyhillside.com/2024/11/24/what-does-jesus-have-against-fig-trees/

^[9] Hooker, 271, Edwards, 351.

^[10] Hooker, 272.

^[11] Edwards, 354.

^[12] Isaiah 5:1ff.

^[13] Psalm 118:22-23. This Psalm was also used two days earlier as Jesus’ entered Jerusalem. See Mark 11:9-10.

^[14] Psalm 24:1

^[15] This will be made even more clear a few chapters later at his arrest. See Mark 14:47.

^[16] Brian K. Blount, Go Preach! Mark’s Kingdom Message and the Black Church Today (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1998), 82-83.

Pastoral Prayer for today

20250223 Pastoral Prayer

We gather after another cold week, giving thanks for a warm building and warming weather. We gather with concerns in minds and hearts. Will we have enough to get by in retirement? Will we still have medical care? Will we endure another pandemic, bird flu or something else. We gather, unsure about the future, but your Son and our Lord and Savior, tells us not to worry. We’re to trust you, for whatever happens, we’re in your hands. So, we come became you, gathered as your people, turning our burdens to you while we give you thanks for your faithfulness in the past. And we trust that as you’ve proven your faithfulness in the past, you will continue to be faithful today, and in the days to come. Regardless as to what happens, remind us of your presence and help us to seek what is right in your eyes.

Almighty God, we confess we have made a mess of your good earth. There are not only rumors of wars, but there are wars. We are shocked to learn of 70 Christians beheaded in the Democratic Republic of Congo, yet we feel safe because that’s so far away. We are sad to hear of the civilians suffering in Ukraine, those in Gaza whose lives have been destroyed, and the Israelis who have died, but again that all seems so far away. And we’re heartbroken when we hear about violence on the streets or in our homes. You have created us all in your image. Help us to work toward breaking the chain of violence, to seek reconciliation, and to do the hard work of loving one another.

Be with those who are poor, those who suffer from bondage to sin and addictions, as well as to those who are in prison. Show us how to make a difference in our world, even if it is in just one life. Give comfort to those in grief over the death of loved ones. Be with the sick…

February 20, 2025February 20, 2025

Goler Gulch, March 2005

Ralph at Sam's Cabin in the Majovie, near Randsburg, CA

An early morning drive in the desert

Last week, I told a story about an adventure with Ralph into Central Nevada. This week, I rewrote a piece I wrote in 2010, shortly after Ralph’s death. This trip I spent more time jotting down in my journal some of Ralph’s unique bits of wisdom. Hopefully, you’ll get a better view of my friend who died 15 years ago.

Ralph and I stayed the night in Ridgecrest. Before heading out for the desert early in the morning, we stopped at a grocery store to pick up fruit and pastries along with coffee and juice. Dawn broke as we drove along the highway toward Goler Gulch. In the soft morning light, the carpeting of highway shoulder with flowers amazed me. The wet winter had given growth to white and yellow asters, daisies and bluish heliotropes. Even beyond the road, the flowers grew under clumps of greasewood.

It was March 2005. I had flown out west the day before so I could officiate at a wedding. I picked up a rental car in Las Vegas. As I had a few extra days before the celebration, Ralph took a bus down from Cedar City and met me in Vegas. We then headed over into the Southern California desert, to see where he grew up. We’d talked about doing this trip several times while I lived in Utah, but had never gotten around to it.

Our next stop this morning was Sam’s Cabin, located just off the highway. Arriving, we sit outside on a picnic table and ate our breakfast while watching the changes in the morning light across the El Paso Mountains to our north. “You can find any kind of mineral up there in those mountains,” Ralph noted. “Just don’t start a mine, because whatever your digging will quickly disappear.” It was the words of one who knew a bit about the folly of mining.

Sam’s Cabin

I’d heard a lot about Sam, who’d built this cabin seventy-some years ago. Once, I met his daughter, who’d recently died in her mid-nineties. Sam was an old-time miner. He’d worked in Nevada and as a young man headed up to the Klondike in 1898. He supposedly made enough money up north that he didn’t have to do much work the rest of his life. In the 1930s, he showed up in the Mojave, working as a caretaker for a mining firm. It didn’t take much to live like he did. He had a wife, who lived over on the coast. Sam would go visit her a couple times a year and occasionally she’d come out to the desert, that being the extent of their marriage.

Sam's homestead in the Mojave Desert — Sam’s homestead

My favorite story of Ralph and Sam was their trip to Death Valley in Ralph’s family Model T truck, taking it across China Lake early in the World War II, before the government converted the dry lakebed to a Naval Aviation bombing site. Ralph had fond memories of the trip, including meeting Scotty of Scotty’s Castle in Death Valley. Today, this trip would be impossible because the bombing range is still in use.

We discovered Sam’s cabin in a state of “arrested decay.” The BLM keeps it from blowing down and one can rent it for up to two nights. Sam died in 1965, in his early 90s.

After breakfast, we looked around the old cabin while waiting for Bill, a friend of Ralph’s from Southern California to arrive. Rocks and boulders of all shapes, colors and sizes dot the yard. Ralph pointed to many of them and told me which gulch from which they’d been taken. Most of the rocks had been hauled in by Sam with the help of Ralph and his brother Charlie.

Sam's place in the Mojave — Another view of Sam’s homestead

Ralph’s family homestead in Goler Gulch

Bill arrive a few minutes later, driving a huge Suburban SUV. We decide to take his Suburban and leave my rental car at Sam’s Cabin. We climbed in and Ralph began the tour of Goler Gulch. The gulch has always been a placer mining district, meaning the ore is found in sediment washed down from the mountains. Attempts have been made to find the ore body from up in the mountains, but no one has ever identified the source. When Ralph was a kid, old miners held to the belief the gold had been pushed down during the last ice age, by glaciers. Of course, there is no evidence of glacier activity this far south. Another popular theory, according to Ralph, who reported this with a straight face, is that the gold came from Alaska.

Old Behren homestead in the Mojave — Ralph showing us around the old Behren homstead

Ralph’s family’s Model T

Ralph was born in Kansas. When he was an infant, his parents moved to California. They added a bed to their Model T coupe, making it into a truck in which the family made the journey. After a short stint in Los Angeles, they headed into the desert, where his dad worked as a miner and a cook. Interestingly, the Model T still runs. Ralph has driven me around in it and even let me drive it.

Ralph told about his brother Charlie and him taking the Model T on trips through the desert. In the spring or after rains, when the water would be raging in the gulch, they’d stop the car on one side of the stream, take off the fan belt and drive through the water, hooking the fan belt back up on the other side. The car seemed to go anywhere; you just had to know the tricks. If the fan was spinning, it would kick water over the distributor cap and short out the electrical system. The engine could take a little more heat than the electrical system could take water.

Behren homestead around 1930 — The homestead around 1930 with Ralph, his father and his brother and pet dog. They often slept outdoors, especially in the summer.

Ralph’s family homestead includes a collection of buildings. Ralph pointed to a building he and Sam had built at the beginning of the war for some women from Pasadena who wanted a place to flee when the Japanese invaded. “They were sure the Japanese were coming to rape them,” Ralph said sarcastically. They hired him and Sam to build them a home in the desert. Another building Ralph rescued from the Navy, who’d set up operations at China Lake during the war. Abandon as surplus, he brought it and hauled it home so he could have his own room when he returned from the Pacific.

The Old One-Room School House

We made another stop at the site of the old one room school. Ralph and his brother attended school here with eight or ten other kids from 1932, when the schooled opened, to 1936 when they were bused into Randsburg. He told us about his first-grade teacher who’d just celebrated her 100th birthday. Ralph pointed up stream and said that the girl’s outhouse was up there, and the guys were downstream. “Why didn’t they just have a unisex bathroom with a lock,” I asked, “since there were never more than a dozen students.” Ralph, in all seriousness, responded. “I assume the school board had concerns about mixing urine.”

We saw the shaft for the Yellow Aster mine, one of the larger mines in the district. As we explored, Ralph picked a leaf of Indian Tobacco and talked about as a kid he’d harvest it and sell it to an old miner. The other miners forbid the old miner from smoking it underground because it stank. He also found an “Indian pickle,” a plant with a long stem and an open chamber on the end where you could place your tobacco as you drew the smoke up the stem. The “Indian pickle” made a perfect bong. He also showed how the new growth on a greasewood (also known as Creosote bush) could be crushed and smoked for a “natural high.” “This also stinks, which is what you’d expect from such a plant,” Ralph informed us. None of us wanted to try it out for ourselves.

Heading up the gulch

We next headed into the gulch itself, a canyon where much of the mining took place. There were five shafts dug down into the dirt, named Fine Gold Number 1 though 5. Only Fine Gold #1 had a traditional gallows frame, the others being pick and shovel operations with a windlass. In time, the miners discovered that the gold was mostly deposited in the sand within a few feet of bedrock, some eighty feet down. They’d sink a shaft then work out following the bedrock as they made their way up and down the gulch.

Old miners Ralph knew

As we drove up the gulch, Ralph told us about miners he’d known growing up the desert. One was a kid, just 18, who discovered enough gold to buy himself a brand new ’36 Ford with an 85 horsepower V8 engine. Another was a guy named Happy, who was the first pot-head Ralph knew. This was before the Second World War. Happy came looking for work and the miners wanted him to work with them. So, he asked where he might find a place to prospect. One of the old-timers, to be done with him, sent him to the most unlikely place around. Happy discovered a 14-ounce nugget. He remained happy for some time thereafter.

Some of the miners were more adapt at mining outsiders, an ancient trick of the mining trade. Curly would pull out his pan anytime he saw a tourist driving by. They’d get to see him work out some nuggets from his washings. He’d tell him he dug the ore at his mine, Eagle’s Roost,” up in the mountains. It they seemed interested, he’d ask if they’d like to buy a few inches or feet of the mine from him. During the war, Curly talked to a man from Kansas. Ralph’s father, who was from Kansas, warned the man not to trust Curly. Curly moaned to the man about how everyone talked bad him and were always saying that he was dishonest because they were jealous. So, the man brought from Curly a bunch of land that wasn’t worth much and most of it, Curly didn’t even own. Afterwards, Ralph said, “Curly went into Randsburg and brought war bonds and became a hero.”

Turning around and heading for lunch

The creek ran strong, and the ground softened before we reached the end of the gulch. Bill said he had a shovel in the back if we wanted to keep going, but none of us were excited about using it. We turned around and headed back to Randsburg for lunch. That’s a story I’ll have to share at another time.

Postlude

Ralph lived in the Gulch until he graduated from High School in 1944, at which time he joined the Army Air Corp. He was hoping to become a pilot, but they had enough so he became a crew member of a B-24. He made it to the South Pacific in time for the war to end. Ralph received a combat citation, and just so no one thought of him as a hero, he loved telling the story about how some General thought he should have another medal, so the General sent several hundred airplanes into the sky to blow the hell out of some island a few Japanese soldiers had the misfortune of being marooned on as their island had been leaped over in our drive toward the Japanese homeland. “We blew the hell out of them,” Ralph said. His second mission was to drop supplies, mostly boots, into POW camps after the surrender. After the war, Ralph attended school on the GI bill and became a chemist. He spent the rest of his life in the Southwest. Ralph died in 2010. Two weeks ago, on his birthday, he would have been 99 years old.

History of the mining region

In the later part of the 1860s, miners from Austin and the Reese River Mining District in search of another mother lode discovered rich in what became the White Pine Mining District. One of the first discoveries, in 1865, was named Monte Christo. It’s just a few miles west of here. From there, miners set out in all directions and in 1867, discovered what became known as Treasure Hill, the mountain upon which we’d camped. The land was unforgiving. There was little shade in the summer and an altitude above 8,000 feet created brutal winters. But with some of the ore as pure silver chloride and assayed as high as $15,000 a ton, people were willing to put up with the hardships.

ruins of an old mill — Ruins of an old mill

By 1869, Treasure City with a population of 6,000 had been established on top of the mountain. There were nearly 200 mines along with ten mills to crush the ore into powder, in preparation to leaching out the silver and gold. A water company laid pipe and had the ability to pump 60,000 gallons a day to the top of the thirsty mountain. But it was all short lived. Most mines played out after a few hundred feet and the rock proved a formable challenge. Early in 1870, the excitement began to wane. By the end of 1870, only 500 people remained. In 1880, when the Post Office closed, there were only 24 people left living on the mountain.

Economic lessons for the region

A look at Treasure Hill’s rise and fall provides an economic lesson in the danger of speculation and bubbles and international finance. Western Historian W. Turrentine Jackson, in his classic study on the region, Treasure Hill, goes into great detail of the financing of the district. In the late 1860s, so much money was poured into the region, more than was ever needed to develop the mines. Much of this capital was wasted; some of it spent on bogus mining operations that existed only to mine the pockets of capitalists who hoped to make a fortune and were willing to take great risks. Then, as the availability of high grade ore begin to wane, money begin to be withdrawn from the region. John Muir visited the area after the rush and wrote in Steep Trails:

“Many of [the mines] do not represent any good accomplishment and have no right to be. They are monuments of fraud and ignorance—sin against science. The drifts and tunnels in the rocks may be regarded as the prayers of the prospectors offered for the wealth he so earnestly craves; but like prayers of any kind not in harmony with nature, they are unanswered.” (Elliott, 105)

Leaving Cedar City

Ralph and I got an early start for this remote spot in the Nevada desert. Leaving Cedar City, we drive north to Minersville and then on to Milford, where we cross the Union Pacific tracks and set out across the desert on Utah 130. Our travels take us just south of the ghost town of Frisco and north of the Wah Wah Mountains. We enter Nevada at Baker. Shortly after meeting up with Highway 50, we leave the pavement for a rough road that skirts the north boundary of Great Basin National Park.

Osceola

Our first stop is at the site of Osceola. Here, In 1872, a unique mining community for Nevada existed. Hard rock mining is the norm in Nevada. This was industrial mining. Miners dig shafts and drifts as they blast into rock for ore. The ore was then crushed and chemically treated to extract the metals. However, in Osceola, free ore existed in sediment. Placer mining, as was done in the California gold fields, was possible. All one needed were shovels and pans, some water, and perhaps a sluice box. The difficulty with placer mining here was the lack of water. Early in the town’s history, they dug a ditch up Wheeler Peak to divert water to the town. This mining district boasts the largest gold nugget ever found in Nevada. There is not much left of the town that existed here for nearly fifty years. Fires, the bane of mining camps, sent most of the town up into smoke. Modern mining operations destroyed the rest. Only the graveyard and some mining equipment used more recently remains.Interestingly, even with gold near historic lows (this was in the late-90s), there’s still a few people mining in this district.

Ely

Leaving the cemetery behind, we drive out of the canyon and head west, across an alluvial fan and toward the highway. Reconnecting to US 50, we continue on to Ely where we stop and have lunch at the historic Hotel Nevada. I suggest we eat on the road to make better time, but Ralph cringes. “If I can’t sit down and enjoy my meal, I’m not living right,” he insists. After lunch, we continue west on US 50, passing the huge open pit copper mine at Ruth and thirty minutes later, the Illipah Ranch. Somewhere between Ely and Eureka, we abandon the pavement and head south on a gravel road.

Ralph inspecting som kind of left-over equipment

Hamilton

Hamilton is our first stop, nine miles south of US 50. It sits on the north side of Treasure Hill and served as a logistical point for the various mining communities south of here. The town was first called Cave City as so many miners from the mountains sought refuge there in caves during the harsh winters. As mining flourished, they laid out a town. By the spring of 1869, more than 10,000 people lived here. It became the county seat for the newly established White Pine County. They built a courthouse. Stage coaches connected the town to Austin and Pioche and the railroad at Elko.

But the town’s life was short. The excitement lasted on a few years and by the time of the 1870 census, less than 4,000 people remained. The town struggled on. In 1873, a shopkeeper by the name of Cohen, seeing his investment falter, set his store on fire in the hopes of collecting on his insurance. The fire spread and much of the town burned. Another fire destroyed the courthouse in 1885. In 1887, the town’s future died as the county seat moved to Ely. Today, only a few ruins and a cemetery remain. There’s plenty of mining junk left out, along with the leftovers of a cyanide leaching operation and a few junked house trailers used in the last attempt to mine in the area. We see no one as we poke around.

Treasure City

After Hamilton, we head south to Treasure City, located just a mile and a half from Hamilton, but on top of the mountain. We take the wrong road and I find myself out in front of the truck with a shovel, clearing rocks as we make our way up a switchback road to the top. Had we known, another road to the west would have taken us to the top without any trouble. It’s getting time for dinner and we find a place along Main Street where we stop for the evening.

I build a charcoal fire behind the truck. As soon as we have coals, I put in two foil wrapped potatoes and, in a wire basket, begin to grill the steaks we had socked away in the cooler. As the sun drops toward the horizon, the wind picks up and soon we’re both pulling on jackets. We eat dinner, washing it down with a beer. I throw a few pieces of pinion onto the coals and the fire blazes. After chatting for a bit, I take off on my walk.

Shermantown, Eberhardt, and Charcoal Kilns

The next morning, we head south off the mountain and stop by the sites for Shermantown and Eberhardt. We link up to the Hamilton-Pioche stagecoach trail and follow it to US 6. Turning left, he head back into Ely in time for lunch and to gas up the truck. Then we head south, stopping at the Ward Charcoal Kilns, a state historic site. It’s interesting that there was a large charcoal operation in this desert region. They harvested all the pinion and juniper for miles around to feed these massive kilns. The charcoal was mostly used to roast the ore in the milling process. Leaving the kilns behind, we head down US 93, stopping at Pioche, another mining town.

Pioche and Home

Pioche is still alive and holding on now as an out-of-the-way tourist town. The community received a new lease on life in World War Two, at a time when the government was forcing the closure of gold mines as non-essential industries. But the ground around Pioche included large deposits of zinc,. Considered an essential mineral for the war effort, zinc mining lead to a revival of Pioche. They continued mining zinc around Pioche till the 1980s. We stop long enough to have dinner at the Overland Saloon, and then headed on home. At Panaca, a Mormon farming community, we leave US 93 and head east, toward Cedar City. An hour later, as we approach the city with the sun setting to our back, the red hills glow in the evening light.

A photos were slides which I digitally copied.

Camp Bangladesh: another adventure with Ralph

Sources:
Shawn Hall: Romancing Nevada’s Past: Ghost Towns and Historical Sites of Eureka, Lander and White Pine Counties(University of Nevada Press, 1994)

W. Turrentine Jackson, Treasure Hill, (University of Arizona Press, 1962)

Russell R. Elliott, History of Nevada, revised edition. (University of Nebraska Press, 1987).

_________., Nevada’s Twentieth-Century Mining Boom: Tonopah, Goldfield, Ely (University of Nevada Press, 1966).

February 9, 2025February 9, 2025

Isaiah’s Tough Message

Title slide with photos of the two churches where the sermon was preached along with photos from the Treasure Hill Mining District in Nevada (which was mentioned in the sermon).

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry & Bluemont Churches
February 9, 2025
Isaiah 6:1-13

Sermon recorded at Bluemont on Friday, February 7, 2024

Comments at the beginning of worship:
Two weeks ago, I used questions from the Heidelberg Catechism for our Profession of Faith. Some of you had trouble with the 4^thquestion, which asks if you can live up to God’s law perfectly. The given answer is: “No, I have a natural tendency to hate God and my neighbor.” Several people questioned this, saying they don’t hate God or neighbor. Perhaps I should explain.

First, the catechism comes from the 16^th Century. While it may be expressed in a different manner today, the hateful actions toward God or neighbor have nothing to do with how we feel about God or our neighbor. Since the 16^th Century, we’ve gone through the romantic era which confused feelings and actions. When we causally say, “I love you,” we’re expressing a feeling. We truly express love (and hate) in action.

When we sin against God or another person, we show hate. We may not have hateful feelings, but we show contempt for them. Likewise, our love for God and neighbor needs to be more than some warm internal feeling. Instead, we show love by working for the wellbeing of the beloved. It’s become somewhat of a cliché, but love is a verb. I suggest the same goes for hate.

Essentially, what this question drives at is a deep understanding that we are sinners who first look out for ourselves. As Paul said, “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.”^[1] Because of this, confession is required. As I pointed out in my last sermon from Psalm 19, we should confess even to those sins we don’t realize we commit. Likewise, as we’re going to see in today’s sermon, we confess not just for individual sins we’ve committed, but those sins which come from the society in which we live and benefit.

I hope this clears things up. If not, let me know and I’ll be glad to discuss it further. Regardless of the fourth question, I commend the Heidelberg Catechism to you. It opens with the most beautiful question, “What is your only comfort in life and in death?” The answer begins: “That I am not my own, but belong, body and soul, in life and in death, to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.”^[2] You can’t go wrong with such thinking.

Before reading the Scriptures:
As I’ve been doing since Christmas, I’m preaching on the Old Testament lectionary passages. Today, we’ll look at the sixth chapter of Isaiah. I have preached on this passage here once before, using it to discuss worship.^[3] The flow of Reformed and Presbyterian worship follows this passage. We are called into God’s presence and sing God’s praises. God holiness reminds us of our need to confess our sin. So, we confess and find forgiveness which allows us to hear and respond to God’s call.

But this passage contains more insight than just worship, as we’ll see this morning. Not only is this Isaiah’s prophetic call, but we also learn about God and our relationship to the Almighty. And we’re reminded there are times before we can fully experience hope, consequences must be faced.

This passage can be broken up into parts. I’m breaking it into two parts: Isaiah’s encounter with God and the word Isaiah takes back to God’s people.^[4] The lectionary doesn’t include the entire chapter, allowing the preacher to stop after Isaiah’s responds to God’s call with “Here I am, Lord, send me.”^[5] But to cut this passage short, while it may make us feel better, keeps us from understanding it’s message.

Isaiah willingly volunteers to be God’s messenger. But he receives a tough message to take to the people. Unlike Jeremiah, who often shares his personal feelings with his readers, Isaiah keeps his cards close to the chest.^[6] I wonder if, looking back, Isaiah questioned his willingness to volunteer? However, as the prophet understood, we’re to be faithful to God, which requires us to accept and struggle with the entirety of the Word. Doing so, we learn it’s not about us, but about God.

Read Isaiah 6:1-13:
It was the year Uzziah died. We often date things from significant transitions which include the death of important people. You know, the Hebrew people didn’t have a lot of great kings, but Uzziah was better than most.^[7] At least he wasn’t totally rogue.

Death reminds us there can be no going back. History marches on. Sooner or later none of us will be here. Our time, like Uzziah, like Isaiah, will have passed. We should ask ourselves if we’re making the best of the time we’re given.

During this year after Uzziah’s death, Isaiah finds himself in the temple and receives a vision. God sits on the throne high above the temple. It requires only the hem of God’s robe to fill the temple. From this description, Isaiah reminds us that the real king, the King of Kings, overshadows whoever sits on David’s throne. The robe of God the King won’t even fit in the Salomon’s magnificent temple. All-around God, court is in session. Seraphs fly and sing while they shield their eyes from God’s brightness and their feet from God’s sight. Here, we’re reminded of an Old Testament notion that God goodness is such that if we, as sinful humans, looked at God, we’d die.^[8] We also see an ancient custom, which in parts of the world still holds true, that the dirt on our feet represents the unclean state of creatures.^[9]

Isaiah is beside himself. Feeling doomed, he cries, “Woe is me; I am a man of unclean lips and live among people of unclean lips, yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” The idea of unclean lips implies the uncleanness of the whole person as Jesus says in Matthew, “What comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and that is what defiles.”^[10] Furthermore, we learn that Isaiah doesn’t just see himself as sinful, he also understands he lives with sinful people. This passage is why, in our prayer of confessions, we have time for corporate and individual prayer. We are responsible for the bad things we do individually, as well as the bad things done by society at large.

Only after the coals from the altar touch Isaiah’s lips does he hear God’s call. Now, instead of fear, he confidently volunteers to be God’s spokesperson. As I suggested earlier, we don’t know what he thought of the message he must carry to the people, but he’s got a job to do.

Verses 9 to 12 is a message of doom. God’s word brings confusion and a hardening of heart and leads to destruction. Often, we hear of God saving a remnant, but here we’re told if only 10% survives, it, too, will be destroyed. Total destruction. Everything is empty.

When I lived in Utah, about once-a-year Ralph, a friend of mine, and I would take a trip out into the desert to explore. One year we set our sights on Hamilton and Treasure City, true ghost towns located in White Pine County, miles from a paved road. In the late 1860s, 12,000 people lived around the Treasure Hill mining district, but the gold and silver didn’t run deep. Two years later, the towns declined. By the mid-1870s, they were abandoned.^[11]

That night we camped on Main Street in Treasure City. It was eerie. Half stone walls of former buildings surrounded us and created long shadows as the sun sank in the west. Nothing remained intact. And you had to be careful walking around because there were open mining shafts in which you could fall. No one else was around. In the distance, coyotes sang. At nearly 10,000 feet, the brilliant stars looked to be just out of our reach. The wind rustled sagebrush, and a few dangling pieces of roofing tin squeaked.

Reading Isaiah’s message, I imagine Jerusalem looking like what Treasure City did back in the mid-1990s when we camped there. Of course, Treasure City’s destruction had nothing to do with God’s judgment. There was just a limit of the available high-grade ore. But the result was the same. Both Jerusalem and Treasure City became desolate.

But why would God do this? Why wipe out even the remnant? I don’t claim to understand all of God’s ways, for I am not God. But I think we learn two things here. First, the chapter ends with only a lifeless stump remaining. Five chapters later in Isaiah, we read about a shoot coming from the stump of Jesse (David’s father).^[12] From that stump comes hope. And by bringing life from the stump, God demonstrates his power not only to create but to redeem a fallen creation.

Second, the eventual fall of Israel, Judah, and Jerusalem changed the Hebrew people.^[13] After the exile in Babylon, you no longer hear of God’s people following pagan gods. Instead, the Jews who returned from Babylon to rebuild remain, to this day, solely committed to One God, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the God of Abraham, Issac, and Jacob.And for us Christians, this God is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Our ultimate trust doesn’t belong to any human construct or person, but only to Almighty God, who has the power to redeem. Sooner or later all we have and create will fail. But God, and those whom God claims, will remain. Amen.

^[1] Romans 3:23.

^[2] To review the catechism in its entirety, see https://www.crcna.org/welcome/beliefs/confessions/heidelberg-catechism

^[3] See https://fromarockyhillside.com/2022/04/03/why-church-for-proper-worship/ For others who see this passage as an outline for worship, see Walter Brueggeman, Westminster Bible Companion: Isaiah 1-39 (Louisville: WJKP, 1998), 58 and Scott Hoezee, “Isaiah 6:1-8 (9-13) Commentary, https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2022-01-31/isaiah-61-8-9-13/

^[4] Some scholars break this passage into 3 parts (the vision of the King, the purification, the commissioning). See Otto Kaiser, Isaiah 1-12, John Bowden translator, (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1983), 123-133.

^[5] While this passage shows up several times in the three-year lectionary, at least this week’s lectionary adds verses 9-13 in brackets, suggesting they’re optional.

^[6] Christopher R. Sietz, Isaiah 1-39: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1993), 57.

^[7] 2 Kings 15:3. 2 Chronicles 26 gives a more complete picture of his reign and how he sought out God when his reign began (at the age of 16). Later in his long reign, pride got the best of him as he invaded the priest domain in the temple.

^[8] See Exodus 19:21-22, 20:18-19.

^[9] In the Muslim world, it is considered an offense to sit on the floor with your feet facing others. You’re to bend your legs so your feet are behind you.

^[10] Matthew 15:18

^[11] For insight into Treasure City, see Shawn Hall, Romancing Nevada’s Past: Ghost Towns and Historical Sites of Eureka, Lander, and White Pine Counties (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1994), 199-202.

^[12] Isaiah 11:1. This passage titled “The Peaceful Kingdom,” is often read during Christmas.

^[13] Isaiah writings here would have been in the time of the Assyrians, who destroyed Israel (the Northern Kingdom). Jerusalem wouldn’t be destroyed and desolate until their defeat by the Babylonians.

February 4, 2025February 4, 2025

Puzzles this winter

Kelly, a regular reader, often posts photos of puzzles she completed, along with great book reviews. When I commented about a puzzle I was enjoying, she challenged me to post photos! Generally, at my house, the puzzle table comes out around Thanksgiving. We put away by Easter. These are the puzzles completed so far this season, all of them are 1000 pieces.

I have been on vacation, taking my last week of time off from 2024 this week. That’s why there were no sermons on Sunday.

This puzzle was done over Thanksgiving weekend. I love the Northwoods and this cabin on a lake with a full moon and what seems to be northern lights feels like a place I could hang around for a while.

I love trains and especially like the beauty of these Shay locomotives. But this puzzle was the most difficult one this season. A 1000 pieces with about 800 of them being black!

This puzzle was perhaps the easiest of the puzzles. Colorful and cheerful, it almost makes you want to camp out for the holidays in a travel trailer. However, in reality life, it’d probably be a good way to freeze yourself. This December, two friends and I helped close in the underpinnings of a travel trailer in which a handicap woman is living. She refused to go to another setting and I can’t image living there when we had temperatures well below freezing with high winds.

This was a Christmas gift from my daughter. I always love National Park puzzles. I counted and have visited 30 of these parks. Several I’ve hiked through including the Great Smoky Mountains, the Shenandoah Mountains, Isle Royale, Yosemite, Sequoia, and Kings Canyon. I should write more about those hikes. I did publish a blog post of an incredible trip with my father and sister to the Dry Tortuga’s in 2018.

A neighbor lent us this Monet puzzle and it was most enjoyable to put together his masterpieces. In 1990, I was able to see a large Monet exhibit of his serial waterlily paintings as the Chicago Museum of Art. In 2020, I had planned on seeing another large Monet exhibit in Boston (along with a game at Fenway Park), but COVID caused us to cancel that trip. I love his use of light in his paintings.

January 29, 2025February 20, 2025

Readings in January 2025

Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

(New York: G. P. Putman and Sons, 2018), 372 pages.

Kya Clark, “the Marsh Girl” lives in the salt marsh of Eastern North Carolina. As a child, her mother abandons the family. Then one by one, her siblings’ leaves. Finally, her father, the one who has run everyone else off, leaves. Abandoned by everyone who should have cared for her, she learns how to survive. She digs shellfish and sells them to Jumpin, an old African American who sells gas and bait along the marsh. Jumpin and his wife Mabel, in a way, become surrogate parents for Kaya. She gets by, eating what she collects along with making enough money to buy cornmeal and oil in town.

Kya only spent one day in the school. Picked on by other children, she never went back, always staying one step ahead of the truancy officer. She befriends Tate, a former friend of one of her brothers. Over time, Tate teaches her to read and begins to lend her books which allows her to learn more about the marsh. But he, too, leaves as he heads to Chapel Hill for college. He fails to come back as promised. Only later, does he come back and try to re-establish contact as he establishes a nearby research lab on the marsh. Kya, who had taken up painting, becomes a self-taught an expert in marsh ecology. She even publishing books based on her paintings.

While feeling abandoned by Tate, Chase, another town boy seeks out Kya. Primarily interested in sex, Chase promises to marry her and build her a house. Then Kya learns through the newspaper of his engagement to another woman. Later, in 1969, Chase ends up dead, having fallen from a fire tower. It’s not clear if foul play is involved, but Chase’s mother points the finger at Kya. Eventually, the sheriff on sketchy evidence, arrests Kya. Tried for murder, she’s found not guilty.

After this ordeal, Kya and Tate get back together, living in the marsh until Kya dies from a heart attack in her 60s. Afterwards, Tate discovers Kya’s secret, which he had not suspected.

Owen captures the beauty and diversity of the marsh. The reader also feels empathy for Kya, someone who has fallen through the cracks. While alone, she develops resilience but is unable to trust anyone else. Only later, at her trial, do we learn there were those in the town who tried to help her, such as the woman at the grocery story who would give her back more change than was due, taking the money out of her own pocket.

This an enjoyable read. I recommend this book. Having grown up near the marsh in North Carolina, this book helped take me back to a time the marsh wasn’t overgrown with housing.

Bernard DeVoto, The Hour: A Cocktail Manifesto

(1948, Portland OR, Tin House Books, 2010), 127 pages.

For the past few years, I have avoided alcohol during most of January, at least when I been at home. But I break my fast on the 25^th, to celebrate the birth of the Scottish bard, Robert Burns, with a shot of “Balvenie” and the reading of a few poems. So, why I chose to read a book about the cocktail hour during January is beyond me. But so far, I managed to keep the fast. Instead of placing this book in a bookcase, I have stored it in my liquor cabinet. For like a good Scotch whisky, one should savor this book..

Bernard DeVoto died two years before my birth. But as a some-times 19^th Century Western American historian myself, I have been familiar with his work for nearly forty years. Decades ago, I read a couple of his classics: Year of Decision, and Mark Twain’s America. Both were serious works, although one can’t deal with Twain without enjoying a good joke. Last year I read This America of Ours, a biography of DeVoto and his wife Avis. From that biography, I learned of this little book. Much of the book had me laughing out loud. DeVoto precision details about the making of a good martini ranks up there with George Orwell’s essay on how to make a proper cup of tea. I wonder if perhaps Orwell might have inspired DeVoto as his essay appeared two years before DeVoto copyrighted his work.

DeVoto and his wife were known for their cocktail parties. Much of what makes this short book so funny is DeVoto’s seriousness. It’s his way or the highway. Those who disagree with him, from his perspective, deserve some terrible fate.

In the opening essay, DeVoto praises America’s greatness for we have “enriched civilization with rye, bourbon, and the martini cocktail.” He also praises Scotch and Irish whiskeys alongside of bourbon and rye, insist they consumed straight. He had no use for rum and was willing to damn to hell those who abided in the nasty drink. However, as a historian, he knew rum’s role in American’s history and acknowledges how rum played a role in our freedom and in the institution of slavery. Had the sailor’s “primordial capitalist bosses not given them rum, [they] would have done something to get their wages raised.”

The second chapter begins with an assault on recipes for various cocktails found in cookbooks and women’s magazines. In DeVoto’s world, these are all unnecessary, for one either drank whiskey or a martini. Pity the poor man who would allow vermouth and whiskey to meet for “the Manhattan is an offense against piety.” Of course, vermouth is used with gin to make a martini. In DeVoto’s world, it better be dry vermouth. And don’t get cute with your drinks. He bemoaned a bar in Chicago which offered “Whiskey on the Barney Stone.” They used green colored ice. DeVoto suggested the proprietor be “put to the torture.” In a later chapter, he goes after the couple who has all kinds of fancy drinking kitsch such as stoppers featuring women’s legs, fancy stirring rods, and signs about drinking. DeVoto had no patience with such foolishness, but then they were probably making daiquiris.

Long before James Bond, DeVoto suggested it didn’t matter if one shook or stirred the martini. What mattered, however, was avoiding splinters of ice in the drink. Each round of martinis is to be made fresh. There can be no salvation for the man who makes pitchers of martinis and stores them in the refrigerator. Those who desire an olive in their drink were probably denied a pickle in their childhood which sent them on a lifelong quest for brine. As for those who want an onion, “strangulation seems best.”

The only thing one might mix in with whiskey are bitters, but then only Angostura bitters. And no fruit salads. The fruit from orchards do not belong in cocktails. Drinks should be served cold. I’m not sure what DeVoto thought about Japanese sake, which is usually served warm. Writing in the aftermath of the war, he probably thought it justified the use of the bomb.

In the third chapter, DeVoto attacks the enemy of drinks—sugar. He believes the reason too many people want sugary drinks is that we give our children too much sugar. “An ice cream soda can set a child’s feet in the path that ends in grenadine…” While such drinkers are to be pitied, they should also be treated as “a carrier of typhoid.” DeVoto even prophesizes the demise of our Republic will most likely come for “this lust for sweet drinks.” And sugar comes from other sources, not just crystals. Fruit has no place during the cocktail hour. DeVoto suggests “orange bitters make a good astringent for the face,” but they don’t belong in drinks.

I did take a bit of offense at DeVoto’s attack on winter drinks. He has no use for eggnog or a Tom and Jerry. I assume If he hears I occasionally like a hot butter rum after spending time outdoors on a cold snowy day, he’d roll in his grave. But then, that’s a ski drink, and DeVoto didn’t care for the sport.

I wish I had read this book 25 years ago. Two friends of mine from Utah, both now deceased, would have enjoyed it. Or maybe just one of them. Ralph insisted on making his and his wife’s martini, one at a time. Thankfully, he always had some good peaty Scotch to offer me. Myron, however, might have taken offense. Myron was one of those martini drinkers who made the drink by the pitcher and stored it in the fridge. DeVoto would have had a cow had he witnessed Myron pouring himself a martini from a pitcher he mixed three days earlier. But I never blamed Myron, for he always offered me a pour from a bottle of Glenmorangie

Obviously, while I have never cared for martinis, I enjoyed this book. If you want a martini, that’s fine. Just offer me some converted rye, corn, or barley, aged in a white oak barrel. Ice would be nice, as long as it’s not green.

Sarah Frey, The Growing Season: How I Built a New Life-and Saved an American Farm

(Audible, 2020), 8 hours and 41 minutes.

In a way, this book reminded me of Stephanie Stuckey’s book which I read last year. Both are women executives leading major companies. But that’s where the comparison stops. Stuckey came from a well-to-do family. She took over her family’s business as it was about to completely go under and lead back to thriving. However, Frey came from a very modest background and built a major business.

In this book, Frey describes her childhood on “the hill,” a small farm in southern Illinois. Her dad, who had ties to horse racing, always wanted to have a winning horse and sunk all the money the family was able to provide into his beloved horses. While he doted on his daughter, he could be mean. This was especially true tohis sons and wife. He also had another family before setting out with Sarah’s mother, which gave Sarah and her brothers a huge family of stepbrothers and sisters. Yet, for all his faults, he instilled in his daughter a belief she could do anything.

As Sarah grew older, and her older brothers began to move out on their own, the family began to collapse. Still in high school, Sarah moved out on her own and continued to work and attend school. Having watched her mother buy watermelons for local farmers and sell them to supermarkets, she tries it on her own. Soon, she was borrowing money from a bank for a larger truck. Her business thrived and after two months was able to pay off the truck. She would continue expanding, adding pumpkins to extend her season. Soon, she realized that she should also start raising some of the produce to provide better returns. When the bank took over her father’s farm, she went back to the banker who’d lent the money for the truck. He. helped arrange the purchase of the property from the bank which held the title.

Then, as a nearby Walmart distribution center opens, she talks the produce buyer to let her provide watermelons and pumpkins. She readily agreed she could supply them the four loads a week, thinking of her normal load and not four loaded tractor trailers. Realizing she was about to get in over her head, she gave a call to her brother. Soon, she has all her brothers working with her.

In time her business expanded and included not just Walmart, but most major grocery stores. She also began producing drinks made of vegetable and fruit juices. In telling the story, lots of things seem to be left out (such as financing and attorneys). Throughout the book, but especially at the end, she continued to hit several key points. These include giving people a chancl, treating employees and customers right, hiring those with potential whom others over look, and being creative such as using that usually left in the field for other products. While a lot of the book focuses on herself, she always offers thanks to those who helped her along the way.

Frey is also frank about her husband. And while the marriage didn’t work out, it gave her two boys whom she now tries to spend more time with.

While I felt a lot of details were missing, I enjoyed this book. It’s a fast read/listen.

John Musgrave, The Education of Corporal John Musgrave

2021, Random House Audio, 9 hours and 38 minutes

He always wanted to be a Marine. At the age of 17, John Musgrave signed up with the Corp, having his parents sign for permission. The summer after graduation, he left the Midwest with a couple of friends for the Marine Corp training facility in Southern California. The experience nearly killed him, metaphorically. He describes the experience the rude awakening once they arrived by train to graduation. But he endured and became a proud Marine. This was 1966 and, after advance training, he headed to Vietnam.

At first, Musgrave was excited about the war. They sailed from California to Vietnam on a troop ship. He was first assigned to an MP group in the southern part of the country, but wanting more action, volunteered for a transfer. The transfer landed him just south of the DMZ, a unit known as the Walking Dead, as they were taking so many casualties. He complained when military took away his M14 and gave them all M16, with just one cleaning kit per squad and how they gun so often jammed, which lead to many dead Marines.

Musgrave writes with honesty, as he had done with his boot camp experiences. He tells about his first enemy kill. He discusses the hardship of slipping through the wire to conduct night patrols. He’s honest about how scared they were, in the dark jungle where one not only had to deal with the enemy but mosquitoes and leeches.

Twice wounded, the second time he took a bullet in the chest. No one thought he would make it, even some of the doctors who treated him. But one surgeon didn’t give up. Eventually, he is stabilized and moved out of the country to better facilities in Japan before moving back to the States. He’d spent 11 months in country.

Throughout the first half of the book, Musgrave shares personal struggles. Although his father served in World War 2, he and his mother continued to worry about him being in the Corp. He was in love with a girl from his high school and wanted to get married, but she broke off their relationship. He is also very honest about his religious feelings. As a Methodist, a Catholic neighbor had given him a St. Christopher’s medallion which he carried wore on his dog tags. The medallion causes him to be superstitious, thinking that if he keeps it, it will protect him. However, the day he was wounded a second time, he had a premonition he would die that day. While he lived, it was a close call.

Arriving back in the states, Musgrave discovered things were different. The anti-war movement was just beginning. At first, Musgrave didn’t want anything to do with it as he began college. But soon agreed that the war was a mistake and began to speak out. He became a leader in the Vietnam Vets Against the War movement and even helped led the protests in Miami during the Republican National Convention in 1972.

While Musgrave eventually became a leader of the movement, he continued to work to bring Vietnam Veterans together. He is critical of how Vietnam Veterans were not welcome in American Legion and Veterans of Foreign War posts. Through this, he struggles with his pride at having been a Marine and the guilt of having fought an unjust war. As our nation experienced other wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, he worked with veterans, helping them cope as they returned home.

I enjoyed the book. Growing up watching the news every night at the dinner table, the Vietnam War was always very real. I knew lots of veterans and wondered if it was in my future. Thankfully, we pulled out of the war when I was a sophomore in high school. As I was preparing for graduation, Saigon fell and the war was over.

January 26, 2025January 26, 2025

A Psalm to Guide our Journeys

Title slide with photo of the two churches where this sermon is to be preached.

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
January 26, 2025
Psalm 19

Sermon recorded at Mayberry Church on Friday, January 24, 2025

We’re on a journey through life. Journeys are exciting and like most journeys, we should be amazed at the sights we see as we travel with Jesus. Ours is a sacred journey. Our ultimate goal of returning home to the Father, as the prodigal came back to his dad’s farm.^[1]

Jesus prepares the way.^[2] But there’s no need to rush down the road. Instead, we should saunter through God’s marvelous creation. As we’re on a spiritual journey, there may be things we can learn from other traditions. From Confucius philosophy out of China comes a list of practices for a spiritual journey. I recommend them to you:

Practice the arts of attention and listening.
Practice renewing yourself every day.
Practice meandering to the center of every place.
Practice the ritual of reading sacred texts (for us, that’s the Bible)
Practice gratitude and praise singing (to this we might add Paul’s advice to “pray without ceasing”^[3]).^[4]

Before reading the Scripture:

This morning we’re looking at Psalm 19. As I have emphasized before, the Psalms served as Israel’s hymnal. This psalm, credited to David, had a liturgical function in worship. David draws from his experience at being outdoors where he’s amazed at the way God created order.

Our psalm can be divided into three parts. The first section serves as a hymn of praise to the God of creation. Theologians call this natural theology, God’s revelation through creation.^[5] The second part praises God’s law. The law as with all Scripture, is a part of God’s revelation.^[6] Having been brought to enlightenment through the awe of creation and the wisdom of the law, the psalm ends with a plea for God’s help so that the Psalmist might be cleansed and remain pure. This is a Psalm which guides us on our journey home.

Read Psalm 19:

As I read the opening of this Psalm, I mumble to myself, “Amen.” I, too, have seen God’s glory in the sky. The winter sky at night is amazing. Thursday night, I got home from an amateur radio meeting in Galax about 10 PM. A friend had met me at my house and rode with me. We spent about ten minutes talking outside by our cars, in the cold, while looking up at the sky.

I spotted Mars by the twins, in the constellation Gemini. Jupiter stood near the right horn of the bull, Taurus. Orion and his faithful dog had risen high in the sky as well as the dipper as it circles Polaris. But that’s only what the eye can see. Even as scientists bring us more understanding of the vastness of the universe, it’s not a reason for us to question our faith. Instead, there’s more to be in awe of God in the beauty and vastness of creation.

And yet, we need to remember that although we might witness the glory of the Lord in creation, it’s because God’s creation is good. David, the psalmist, doesn’t slip into pantheism, praising creation itself as god, nor does he go off into worshipping nature.^[7] We do not worship creation, only the Creator is worthy of our praise. But because it is a good creation, we stand in awe of the God who made the heavens and the earth.

The opening six verses of this Psalm remind us of Psalm 8, which also praises the wonders of God as seen in creation. Scripture itself, in Genesis, begins with creation. Again, we don’t worship creation, only the Creator. But in creation, we come to understand an aspect of God’s majesty. Take the time to enjoy the night sky. Or watch in awe as a storm blows in, to appreciate distant mountain peak, or to watch the waves crash on a beach. These experiences should drive us to our knees in praise of the Creator.

The appreciation of the world in which we live is only the first part of this Psalm. The change comes in verse 7. Some scholars suggest the Psalm is really two separate Psalms put together for some reason but originally separate.^[8] I don’t buy into that line of thinking. Instead, the God who created the cosmos, has not abandoned it, but continues to be involved with creation, through the giving of the law and later the sending of a son.^[9]

The second section of Psalm 19 is similar (but with a lot less words) to Psalm 119. The 119^th Psalm, as you may know, goes on and on and on in praise of God’s law. If you have time, I encourage you to read it. But be warned, it’s the longest Psalm in scripture and longer than some books within the Bible.

I believe the Psalmist intentionally links the parts of the Psalm to remind us of when we find ourselves in awe of God’s handwork, we should dive deeper into God’s heart. This is where the law comes into play. This section begins by calling the law perfect. We’re reminded the law’s purpose is to revive the soul. This may sound strange. We think of a particularly spectacular sunset as soul reviving, not laws. Laws sound, well, too legalistic. And we don’t want to be legalists.

You know, at one point in my life, I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but a college course in jurisprudence cured me of that idea. So how can the law restore our souls?

As I have often said, God’s law shouldn’t be viewed as restrictive. Instead, it sets boundaries in which we live in a way we honor God and others while having great freedom. If we stay within the boundaries, we enjoy life. If we move outside the boundaries, just as we move beyond the firmaments of the heavens, we’re not going to sustain life for long.

Just as the Psalmist allowed the majesty of creation sweep over him as he watched the sun and stars make their way across the sky, he now looks inside of himself. He acknowledges how the law restores his soul, bring joy to his heart and light to his eyes.

The law is even more desired than wealth. It’s sweeter than honey. The sweetness should remind of a practice in ancient days when Jewish children started to to study the law. The rabbi dropped a bit of honey on their tongues so they might come to understand that like honey, the law is also sweet.

In verse 11, the Psalm takes another turn. It’s as if the Psalmist realizes the law brings consequences. He asks God to cleanse him. This is a prayer of confession and supplication. The Psalmist knows he needs forgiveness, which involves his confession. He also knows he can’t do everything by himself. In verse 12, he acknowledges the sins of which he’s unaware—and, as a warning, we all have such sins. He also knows others stand to lead him astray. To avoid the consequences of stepping out of the bound prescribed by the law, the Psalmist needs God’s help.

The Psalm closes with a verse I’ve often pray silently before stepping into the pulpit: “Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to thee, O Lord.” Here, at the end of this poem, the wonderings of his imagination focus. Having seen God’s glory in the heavens and experienced it in the law, he realizes he need not try to please anyone but God. God is his rock, his foundation; God, is his redeemer, his Savior.

Psalm 19 is one of the more beloved Psalms, standing there with Psalm 23, 121, and 145. It’s a good Psalm to mediate upon and, if you’re into such, to memorize. We’re reminded of God’s amazing creation, of God’s care for us through the law, and of our need to seek refuge in God’s grace. This Psalm sets before us a way to appreciate God and to help steer our lives to align us to God’s purposes. It’s a Psalm which captures the Christian journey back home. Amen.

^[1] Luke 15:11-24.

^[2] John 14:1-7.

^[3] 1 Thessalonians 5:17.

^[4] From the Analects of Confucius as quoted by Phil Cousineau, The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred (New York: MJF Books, 1998), 126.

^[5] See Romans 1:20.

^[6] Leonard Vander Zee, “Psalm 19 Commentary,” Center for Excellence in Preaching, https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2018-09-10/psalm-19-3/

^[7] James L. May, Psalms: Interpretation: A Biblical Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1994), 97.

^[8] Artur Weiser, The Psalms: Old Testament Library (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1962), 197 approaches the Psalm as two separate Psalms. Claus Westermann, The Living Psalms (1984, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1989), 253, both approach Psalm 19 as verses 1-6 being the original. Westermann sees the rest as a later addition.

^[9] Scott Hoezee, “Psalm 19 Commentary,” The Center for Excellence in Preaching, https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2025-01-20/psalm-19-11/

January 22, 2025January 21, 2025

Two By Ivan Doig

Cover photo with the two books reviewed in the post

Ivan Doig, English Creek

(Atheneum Books, 1984), 343 pages

The first book in Doig’s trilogy about the McCaskill’s of Montana is English Creek (although it’s the second book in the series I read.) Each book stands on its own. Set in the summer of 1939, the story centers on Jick McCaskill. Jick served as the narrative in the final book of the trilogy, Ride with Me Mariah Montana , which I read in 2023. In that book, Jick is at the end of his career, as he ferries his daughter, a newspaper photographer, around Montana for the state’s centennial.

Jick comes of age in English Creek. His older brother, Alec, learns about love and living on his own while Jick learns about the land as he travels with his father, the district ranger. He helps haul supplies to remote camps and fire lookouts. He meets Stanley, a man with a drinking problem and a secret, who introduces Jick to alcohol. And at the end of the summer, he and Stanley run the camp kitchen for the fire crew fighting a dangerous blaze. Then war begins in Europe. In the epilogue, it’s after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Alec joins the military, only to die in North Africa.

Doig does a wonderful job of drawing the reader into the magical country of the American West. I highly recommend this book (and this trilogy).

Ivan Doig, Dancing at the Rascal Fair

(Antheneum Books, 1987), 405 pages

While this is the second novel in Doig’s trilogy of life in the fictious Montana’s “Two Medicine County,” it should have been the first. The novel sketches two young Scottish men, Rob Barclay and Angus McCaskill, who leave their homeland for Montana in 1889. They are looking for Lucas, Rob’s uncle, who has done well in this new country, as evident by his sending back a $100 check every Christmas for the family.

Reaching Montana, it takes a while for them to find Lucas. Finally, they get a lead that he has brought a saloon in Gros Ventre. Catching a ride with a freighter, as there are no stagecoaches or trains running into this part of the state, they find Lucas. They also discover a surprise. Through mining, he has blown off his hands. But he makes do and runs a saloon and has enough money to even help stake the two boys in the sheep business.

Starting from nothing, they stake a claim and build cabins, spending the first winter together. The area in which they homestead becomes known as Scotch Heaven. Rob marries and Angus meets Anna, whom he hopes to marry, but is heartbroken when he marries another man, who raises horses. Before Angus is shunned by Anna, Rob’s sister Adair visits from Scotland for the summer. Angus becomes upset. He realizes Rob has set him up to marry his sister. But after Anna shuns him, Rob marries Adair. It’s not the best marriage, as Rob is still in love with Anna.

Rob and Angus friendship finally breaks over Angus’ ongoing desire for Anna while married to his sister. Interestingly, Adair accepts her status as Angus’ second choice, but the two remain faithful and still have love for each other. Their son, who will eventually become a ranger for the new National Forests and marry Anna’s daughter, goes into the army as the nation enters World War ii. He never made it to Europe and the fighting but remained at a base in Washington State where he served on burial detail for soldiers dying of influenza. As the flu spreads, taking with them many of those who have settled in the Two Medicine Country, Agus and Adair wonder which is worse, for him to be in Europe fighting or in the states with the flu danger. Angus has the flu and almost dies. After he regains his health, he learns that Anna died as the pandemic swept through Montana.

The story involves with Rob and Angus, now enemies, forced to work together due to a stipulation in Lucas’ will. A bitter winter about wipes them out. Only a heroic effort to haul hay from the railroad, a day’s distance away, saves their flocks. By the end of the book, Angus and Rob are the two successful herders left of those who had settled “Scotch Heaven.”

“Dancing at the Rascal Fair” is a Scottish dance tune and Agnus, who often quoting poetry, brings this song repeatedly into the story with different lyrics. I especially liked his one about the Scottish church on page 71: “Orthodox, orthodox/who believe in John Knox.’Their sighing canting grace-proud faces/their three-mile prayers and half-mile graces…”

I enjoyed this book and recommend it. Not only is Doig a wonderful storyteller who can also capture the grandeur of the land, he forces the reader to deal with issues of relationships. He reminds me of Roy and Eddie, who were in my Cedar City congregation, who were sheepherders. In a way, one can feel for the heartbreak both Angus and Adair felt in their marriage.

###

While these books, along with Ride with Me Mariah Montana complete Doig’s trilogy, he continued to write about the Two-Medicine Country. Another book by Doig, set in the fictional town of Gros Ventre in the early 1960s, is The Bartender’s Tale..

January 19, 2025January 19, 2025

Silly Love Songs

Title slide with photo of the two churches where the sermon is to be preached

Jeff Garrison
Mayberry and Bluemont Churches
Isaiah 62
January 19, 2025

At the beginning of worship:

The first book I read this year was Delila Owen’s Where the Crawdads Sing. Some of you may have read it. It was a best seller a few years ago. I’m not sure why it took me this long to get around to it. After all, the book is set in the North Carolina salt marsh, something I’m familiar with from my childhood.

In the book, Kya, the Marsh Girl, is shunned by “polite society.” Everyone abandons her, but because of Tate, one of the town kids, she learns to read and draw. Over time she becomes knowledgeable about the salt marsh. She even publishes books on the marsh, which is impressive for a girl who only went to school for one day.

I got to thinking about how, in a way, this story could be a variation of Cinderella. The forsaken child becomes incredibly blessed and, in the end, marries well. I never spent much time pondering Cinderella; I always thought it to be a girl’s story. I did, however, do a google search and discovered there are variations of the Cinderella which goes back to the ancient Greeks. Adaptations of the story are found over Europe and Asia.^[1] While each story has differences, they’re essentially about a forsaken girl marrying royalty. Isn’t that what fairytales are all about? Someone down and out ending up in a position of honor.^[2]

And there’s a part of such fairytale stories which applies to the Christian faith. God lifts us when we’re down and out, adopts us through Christ, and lead us into an enviable position of joy.

Before the reading of Scripture:

Today we’re exploring the 62^nd chapter of Isaiah. Chapters 60 to 62 are individual oracles which focus on the release from exile and the return of the Hebrew people to Zion. God removes the shame of his people and restores them to position of glory.

Mostly, this chapter involves God speaking through the prophet, but in verse 8 and 11, instead of God speaking, the prophet recalls God’s promises from the past.^[3] I want us to consider this passage in its original context, then ponder what it might me to us today.

Read Isaiah 62

Do you remember the song by Paul McCarthy and Wings, titled “Silly Love Songs?” It was number one of the billboard charts for several weeks in 1976 and written by Paul for his wife at the time, Linda. The opening line went “You think that people would have had enough of silly love songs, but I look around and see it’s not so.” Then he sang repeatedly, “I love you” before going on to other verses.

In a way, it’s too bad we’re not looking at this text on a Sunday around Valentine’s Day. This passage is God’s silly love song to the Hebrew people.

But the people don’t feel loved. They’re down and out. A generation earlier, their armies were decimated by the Babylonians. Jerusalem was laid to waste. The magnificent temple, built by Solomon 400 years earlier, had been destroyed. The people find themselves exiled 800 or so miles from home.

For many ancient nations, such an experience would result in their disappearance as a nation. But not Israel, for their identity wasn’t primarily to the land, but to Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth.

God, in this love letter, expresses his affection for the Hebrew people and encourages them not to give up hope. Instead, they are to prepare to receive back all who have been in exile.

Think for a moment, have you ever done anything foolish for love? Maybe you sang an off-key love song to woo another? Tried your hand at poetry? Written a sappy letter? Or made a fool out of yourself as you yelled into a crowd, proclaiming your devotion to your beloved.^[4]

In a way that’s what God does. Others may despised these people. But God risks looking foolish to proclaim his love for them.

“For Zion’s sake, I will no keep silent,” God shouts at the beginning of the passage. Another translation has it, “I can’t keep my mouth shut.”^[5]

No one, watching this rag-tag group of people making their way back to Jerusalem from Babylon would have considered them valuable or important. They were just another conquered people by the Babylonians, struggling to cross the desert to make their way back to their ancestorial home. But God sees value in them.

Furthermore, God wants other nations to see their glory. God will give them a new name. Naming, in the Old Testament implied ownership. God claims these people as his own. They’ll be a crown in his hand, a delight for all to see.

Verse 5 describes God’s faithfulness as a marriage. God claims his people as his bride. God, who refers to himself as the builder (and as the Creator, God is the ultimate builder), plans to marry and rejoice over his bride.

In verse 6, we learn God posted guards upon the walls of Zion, to be on duty day and night. Oddly, these guards are not to call out an alarm about the approaching of a hostile army. Instead, God sets them up as his alarm clock. They remind God of the wedding vows he made and keep doing this until God completes his task of restoring Jerusalem.

Verses 8 and 9 brings up a frequent concern in the Old Testament. None of us like the thought of working hard and not being able to enjoy the fruits of our labor. But it happens. For Israel it may be the result of disobedience, as when foreign armies strip the fields of all the produce or command the houses of the people to serve as barracks.^[6] Or, as Solomon mumbles in Ecclesiastes, because of aging.^[7] We all know someone who worked hard and had a heart attack a month after retirement. But God promises this will not continue. In the restored Jerusalem, the people can enjoy the fruit of their labors. No more will their enemies take what they’ve worked hard to produce.

But while much of this promise involves God’s actions, God also calls the people to action. In verse 10, with a series of imperatives (go, prepare, build, clear, and lift), God commands the people to get ready for those returning from exile. They’re to clear and build up highways. They’re to raise flags over the gates as a sign of welcome. While God works for us, we also to do God’s work. It’s to be a team effort.

As this next group of exiles return, they’re to proclaim God’s work. In my previous two sermons from the prophets, we saw how God pays the ramson for the people’s freedom.^[8] Again, that’s a theme here as God provides the recompense needed to free and compensate the people.

Our passage ends with the giving of a new name which had been promised in verse 2. This name refers to Israel’s relationship to God. A “Holy People,” can also be translated as “people who belong to the Holy One.”^[9] As the “Holy People,” they’re also known as “The Redeemed of the Lord.” Again, this new name indicates Zion’s dependence upon God. Because of this transformation, the city which was desolate will now be sought out and no longer seen as forsaken.

As I said earlier, this all applied to Jerusalem coming out of exile. But how might this be applied today to our lives? While Isaiah speaks to the community of Jerusalem, can we apply the meaning of this text to our own individual lives?

I think so. This chapter encapsulates the gospel. When we are down and out, without any hope, we’re not abandoned. God still loves us and wants to lift us up and restore us into a community where people will marvel at our transformation. We see this with alcoholics and drug addicts who go through recovery. People who make bad choices in life, and while they must deal the consequences (as did Jerusalem in exile), they turn their lives around and become model citizens are another example.

We worship a powerful God who loves us. As Paul McCarthy sings later in the song I referred to earlier, “when I’m in love, it isn’t silly at all.” Our God through this silly love poem gives hope to the down and out. And that’s not silly. And as a church, we need to clear the way for such people to enter. We should raise banners. Our task is to welcome them into the fellowship. After all, we are all indebted to the triune God, our Creator, our Redeemer, and our Sustainer. Amen.

^[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cinderella

^[2] Fredrick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairytale (1977). This little book describes fairytale as I use the term. The book consist of Buechner lectures at Yale’s Beecher Lectures.

^[3] Walter Brueggermann, Westminster Bible Companion: Isaiah 40-66 (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 1998), 219.

^[4] For the idea of reading this passage as a love song see Meg Jenista, “Isaiah 62:1-5 Commentary” https://cepreaching.org/commentary/2025-01-13/Isaiah-621-5-4/ .

^[5] The Message translation.

^[6] Deuteronomy 28:30, Amos 5:11, and Isaiah 65:21-22.

^[7] Ecclesiastes 2:18-23.

^[8] See https://fromarockyhillside.com/2025/01/12/is-gods-punishment-and-grace-a-package-deal/ and https://fromarockyhillside.com/2025/01/05/god-helps-those-who-cant-help-themselvs/

^[9] Brueggemann, 224.