MORGAN'S MOMENT...
“There’s a reason for everything…”
Words of the sad-eyed lady
      at the motel check-in
      where we registered for another night.
Our flight had been canceled…
      everyone’s flight as well
      some souls canceled forever.
Hers was a theology for flight plight…
      something she could stamp
      on every unexpected situation.
“There’s a reason…”
It was no time for discussion…
      we needed a room
      others were in line behind us.
What possible reason, I asked myself.
       maybe a cause…
      but a reason?
Her theology allows God to allow
      (or even cause?)
      horror for some holy reason.
All I know is that when bad things happen
      the best thing to do
      is to do what you can with left-overs.
So we made the best of days in LA…
      had a nice evening with relatives
      found a ride home with friends.
Others will have more difficulty
      finding good out of the ashes
      but life has a way of rising up.
The Cross is not God’s idea
      but Resurrection is…
      It’s not a reason but a surprising result.
— Art Morgan 

 
10 SERMONS FOR SEPTEMBER 11
While stuck in LA for 5 days there was time for some thoughts and notes that have been turned into “sermons.”  We have them in print, but don’t dream to assume anyone is interested. But…if so, let me know. (They are one page each).
MOMENT MINISTRIES
October 1, 2001
home address:  25921 SW Airport Ave.
Corvallis, OR 97333   541-753-3942
email at  a-morgan@peak.org
MOMENT EVENT SCHEDULE
For those who keep calendars—and don’t live moment-by-moment—here are some dates to note.
October 7 – The Big 50 Party – 1 – 5 p.m.
October 25 – First “Thursday Night Moment”
November 15 – Thursday Night Moment
December 2 – Annual Sunday Advent Brunch
December 24 – Christmas Eve at the Deli
 
MINISTRIES REPORT
Each of our “Moment Ministers” has been active in the “off-season.” Paul has sung numerous times and done a memorial service at least once. Don (our “Associated Washington MM”) led two faculty and staff events on the University of Washington at Bothell campus after the events of September 11. Art has participated in weddings, memorial events (including scattering of ashes at sea—twice) as well as other pastoral activities. In addition, we know that many of our constituents are involved in offering supportive, caring presence. All are “moment ministries.”
 
SWISS MISS
We announced our intention to be in Switzerland for three weeks beginning September 11. Everyone knows what happened on September 11. The closest we got to Switzerland was LAX. We finally got a ride to Ashland where we celebrated anniversaries with Ken and Marilyn Salter, our original Swiss travel companions who had canceled due to Ken’s illness. A happy alternative. Our two 16-year-old grandsons, Andrew and Kyle, brought our Jeep to Ashland to take us home to Corvallis. Since we were packed with no place to go, we returned to the cabin where we enjoyed some great days and some good visits with friends. We had time for writing up adventures and catching up on reading. We turned our Swiss miss into some good times. It doesn’t need to be said that we deeply regret the circumstances that led to our slight inconvenience.
IN REMEMBRANCE

Bill Terbeek – One of the good guys
Friend, colleague and blue sheet fan
Our Hawaiian connection
 

(back page)

IN PRAISE OF NOISY GONGS
       Noisy gongs got a bad name when AP (Apostle Paul) compared gongs and cymbals to speaking in tongues. Actually, he said that speaking in tongues without love was like a noisy gong or clanging cymbal.
       No matter what Paul said or didn’t say, meant or didn’t mean. He took the gong out of Christian
religion. At least I’ve never heard a single gong during my years of clergying.
       I changed all that on August 9.
       What I did on August 9 was preceded by my participation in a Buddhist wedding in Portland. The ceremony went along with numerous strikings of the gong, among other things. When my participation moment came there were no gongs. I entered and exited gongless. Later the gong-maker said that he would have been glad to dramatize my part with gongs.
       At any rate, I thought a bit about gongs. I realized that I could probably learn to play a gong. I
suspected that gongs far preceded Hebrew worship and were likely among the first instruments used for sacred events.
       There’s something about a gong that reaches to your heart, or soul, or depth. It penetrates. And it resonates. Those sound waves go on forever.
       As I met with the family of my good beach friend, Roland, to plan for his memorial event, I noted
the many art objects and memorabilia in their home that came from Thailand. Among the objects was a small gong. An idea clicked. Could I borrow the gong for the service? There wasn’t going to be any other music of musician. The gong would be it. And I would sound it.
       I used it three times.
       First, as people were chatting and waiting for the event to start, I sounded the gong three times.
I’ve never seen silence achieved so suddenly. Expectancy was created.
       Second, in the closing moments, I spoke of the use of the gong in Buddhist services (Roland and Betty attended several, one a wedding for a son). I said that I was going to use a gong for the concluding part of the service. I admitted that I had never done it before. (I also commented ‘that I could just about see Roland rolling his eyes and saying, “Here comes the gong show!’) I said,
“I’m going to sound this gong that Roland and Betty brought from Thailand. I don’t know how it all works, but the sound waves start out loud and clear. Gradually they become more quiet, then go beyond our ability to hear. And they keep going forever.”
        I sounded the gong and let it go off into the silence.
       “So it is, I suggested, “with our relationship with Roland. So present, yet gradually going beyond
our realm of awareness.” I sounded the gong again.
        I spoke words of release—of fear, of guilt, of regrets for unspoken words, of grief— sounding the gong after each one.
       Then I spoke words of sending forth... in love.., in trust... in thanksgiving. A gong with each.
       After a moment of silence, I used the gongs the final time. I struck the gong three times to end the service. A powerful moment.
       Time to get on with the party.
       To heck with Paul. Use a gong if you want. Maybe even a clanging cymbal. I’ll tell you one thing.
Nobody will go to sleep.
— Art Morgan, Summer 2001