Brahms Knew

Brahms knew.
Verdi knew.
Strauss knew, but he had lapses.
Beethoven knew, but he was more concerned with other things.
Wolf knew, but he wasn't letting anyone else in on it.
Tchaikovsky knew, but set out to prove he  didn't.
Milhaud didn't know.
Honegger didn't have the foggiest.
Mozart had the idea, but he didn't live very long.
Berg knew, but that didn't have anything to do with it.
Puccini knew, and milked it for all it was worth.
Gilbert and Sullivan didn't know, and milked it for all it wasn't worth.
Gershwin caught on finally.
Britten took someone else's word for it.
Schoenberg didn't know, but he gets credit anyway.
Stravinsky didn't know, but he didn't let that stop him.
Rossini didn't  know, and didn't care.
Chopin knew, but it upset him.
Wagner knew, but not a fraction of what he thought he knew.
Schumann knew that Clara knew that Brahms knew.
Bernstein was trying like mad to find out.
It's unclear if Debussy knew or not.
Bach knew, but it was too early to do anything about it.
Liszt didn't know, but he made a lot of money anyway. 
Menotti didn't know anyone ever knew.
Some people find it hard to believe that Bartok knew.
Mahler knew, and look what it did to him.
Schubert knew all along, but it never got out of Vienna.
Berlioz didn't know, but he orchestrated it loudly.
Bellini didn't know, but he made it difficult to sing.
Prokofiev had to hide it from the Kremlin.
Bruckner didn't know, but wrote it over and over.
Andy Haydn tried and tried and tried.
But it was Brahms who really knew. 

I love this.  I've saved it since undergraduate school (I think) because I so agree with it.  Brahms definitely knew.  My only comment  - Debussy didn't know.  I do not know the author.

Julie's Message

Julie Lynn Parson Hoepfer's life here on earth ended on February 25, 2014.  Her Celebration of Life took place on February 28, 2014.  The following was included in her funeral bulletin and was written and shared by her family.  It is in honor of Julie and her life of love and caring that I repost it so that those of you who loved her can come back and re-read it whenever you want to remember.   More importantly for me, it is a message that I want to be able to re-read as I think about Julie, and don't want to risk losing this simple message of love. 

Julie's Message

Thank you for being here with us today.  You are here because you have been touched by Julie.  It was her wish that this not be a gathering to mourn her death.  Instead, she wanted us to be here to celebrate her life.

Julie was not preachy, but she wanted to leave a message  This is a message that, all of you who knew Julie, will recognize even if she rarely put it in words.  She testified her message in the way she lived.  In the way she loved.  Our service is meant as a remembrance of this message.

Psalm 23:  The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.  He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.  He restoreth my soul.  He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.  Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; they rod and thy staff they comfort me.  Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.  Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. (King James)

This is a well-known psalm of deliverance.  To be delivered is to suffer and know fear.  Julie didn't want us to dwell on her trials related to cancer, but they have to be acknowledged.  She knew pain and disability.  She knew the menace of her disease.  She knew fear.  But, as depicted in the psalm, she kept moving.  She continued to move through the valley of the shadow.  courage means moving forward even when you are afraid.

The psalmist knew fear and pain.  The psalmist knew humility.  Julie's gift was her great humility and empathy.  The psalmist speaks of being anointed with oil - a gesture that acknowledges honor and worth.  While Julie was humble about herself, she freely acknowledged the worth of those she knew and loved.  To know Julie was to be lifted up by her.  She was at once the psalmist who yearned for a protecting shepherd and a good and merciful person who filled the cups of others.

Mark 5:25-34:  Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years.  She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak,  for she said, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well.”  Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease.  Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”  And his disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, ‘Who touched me?’ ”  He looked all around to see who had done it.  But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth.  He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” (NRSV)

Julie spent much of 2013 in New York City undergoing clinical trials in an effort to slow and overcome her cancer.  New York was large, intimidating, and far from her treasured base of supporting friends and family.  Like the woman in this gospel passage she was afflicted and lost in a teeming crowd.

What did she do?  Like this woman she reached out.  To know Julie is to love her.  The staff at the hotel where she and Don stayed came to adopt her.  From the time they arrived in a taxi to the time they left for a train ride home, they were met with hugs, well-wishes, and genuine concern.  She built a second home base.  How?  By reaching out to these strangers.

Julie usually didn't remember her dreams.  But one morning, she woke in her hotel bed and told Don of a dream she had.  She was in a crowd and she reached out - and touched the hem of a robe.  The man wearing the robe looked at her with kindness and mercy.  Julie dreamed this passage.  Like Psalm 23, she reached out for a shepherd to protect, guide and heal her.  Along the way, she reached out to strangers in her humility and love.  And they loved her back.

Matthew 25:31-40:   “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats,  and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left.  Then the king will say to those at his right hand, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;  for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,  I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’  Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink?  And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing?  And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’  And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’   (NRSV)

This passage begins with separation.  But there is more to it.  Those who are blessed are the ones who do not separate but unite.  They reach out to others.  Julie reached out to her loving family and friends.  She reached out to strangers who could help her - like hotel staff - and to strangers who needed help.

Julie's clinic in New York was a three-block walk from the hotel where she and Don stayed.  Hundreds of people walked this same stretch of Third Avenue.  Most of these people barely paid attention to each other.  Very few of them paid any attention to the handful of homeless people who dotted the sidewalk.  Julie saw them - particularly a man in a wheelchair who was positioned outside a McDonald's.  Julie began to anticipate passing by this man.  She'd stop when she spotted him and reach into her purse and pull out a five- or ten-dollar bill. (An act which you are advised not to do lest you attract pickpockets or cut-purses.)  She would drop the bill in the man's cup.  He would look her in the eye, smile and thank her.  Between themselves, Julie and Don wondered who this man was.  After a few months, Julie saw that Just giving this man money wasn't enough.  She wanted to give him the acknowledgment of his dignity.  "I'm going to tell him my name," she said to Don.

Remember that Julie knew fear.  The act of  going up to a complete stranger in an unfamiliar city and saying, "Hi, my name is..." can be very intimidating.  Somehow, giving your name to a stranger makes us vulnerable.  It requires a certain trust and a sense of humility.  And Julie did it.  She and Don saw the familiar figure in the wheelchair.  Julie fished out a bill and placed it in the man's cup.  She looked him in the eye and said, "I'm Julie."  His eyes lit up and he said, "I'm James,"  Smiles and handshakes were exchanged and Jule and Don hurried to make their appointment at the clinic.  As they departed, James called after them, "Thank you!"

Julie would be the first to tell you that she didn't do enough to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, welcome the stranger, and clothe the naked.  Could she have done more, really?  Of course.  But how much more did she do than all those other people on that busy street?  And she did it because she recognized the dignity in someone.  She had the humility to see past herself.  She reached through the crowd.  She anointed this man.

Planting the Seed

Yes, we've jumbled these passages.  Julie, like all of us, was complex.  but her message was simple.  She just wanted people to be happy.

Simple messages don't make for easy plans of action, and Julie felt that she could have done more.  She felt guilty when she thought that she was petty or mean.  She was frustrated when people would act thoughtlessly.  But she knew her message.  Love people.  Try to make them happy.

Thank you for making us happy, Julie.  We love you so much!

Thanks for being with us to hear this message.

Love, (Julie Hoepfer's family)

Miss you, Julie.

Julie Lynn Parson Hoepfer and a Lesson of Love

"The Three Musketeers of West Hanover Elementary circa late 1960s, together again after 40 years. Funny thing about love is that even though people may go their separate ways, where real love exists, it is not diminished by time. Time does, however, diminish our physical bodies. The three of us have lost 40 years and it is now too late for us to be together for long. Don't have regrets. Time waits for no one. Reach out to those you haven't seen for awhile. If you truly love one another, it will seem like yesterday. Love and share your lives while you still can. No regrets. Only love."

I posted the above on Facebook on January 26, 2014.  One month later, in the early morning of February 25, 2014, one Musketeer has left this world for the next.  

Besides my family and my dog, Julie Parson was the first love of my life - like only children can forge bonds, she became my best friend, my playmate, the one with whom I shared elementary school, those first awkward attempts at playing sports, learning to read, hating math, growing up, getting crushes on guys, and dreams.  At that age, there are always dreams.  

I met Julie in elementary school in the first grade.  Two 6 year olds who had never been in a classroom before.  I was shy and Julie was shy.  I don't remember how we first met but quite likely it was in a corner somewhere, mutually attempting to hide from everyone else.   I dragged out my old class photos from elementary school to see exactly what years Julie and I were together in the same room because neither one of us could remember.  The results: only first grade under Mrs. Minnick and second grade under Mrs. Cole.  It seemed like there should have been more.  I do think it's odd how you can be with a teacher for a whole year and barely remember it.  Of course, memory is funny.  I look at these photos and though I barely remember being in Mrs. Cole's class, I can still remember the color of the jumper Julie is wearing for her second grade photo - kind of darkish maroon with light blue stitching.  Yes, memory is funny.  

Julie and I became like sisters.  I remember always wanting to play with her, go back to her house, or go to the pool when I knew she would be there.  Hers was the first place where I attempted to stay overnight, where we set up some sleeping bags on her enclosed back porch.  It was dark and peaceful except for the crickets loudly chirping outside, but I was a momma's baby and ended up crying in the middle of the night.  Julie's mom came down and called my parents.  I thought Dad would be mad when he picked me up, but he wasn't.  

There was a little creek that ran beside Julie's house and Julie and I would go down and swing around on huge vines that hung from the pine trees.  I loved that.  Meena, Julie's German Shepherd, and later Tilly, were always with us, too.  We both loved animals and the outdoors and apparently that never changed.  Up until the end, Julie and her husband Don kept a garden and counted Monarch butterflies.  Their back room was covered with photos of butterflies and in every window there were bird feeders to watch.  

At my house it wasn't much different.  We would go back to the swamp and catch crayfish and box turtles, look for praying mantis egg casings in the briers or monarch chrysalis on the milk weed, go to the stream and dig up clay and mold it into things or to the pond and watch the fish, or to the woods, well, just to play in the woods.  Evie, my Weimaraner, would always go with us to guard against the vicious pheasants that always scared us when they would suddenly flush out of the field.  Eve would point them when we got close so Julie and I knew there was one lurking about.  Now you don't see them much anymore.  The pheasants or the turtles, that is.  Evie, my faithful and loving companion, is long gone.  Times change.

Julie and I liked the same TV shows, like Star Trek, Dark Shadows and Alias Smith and Jones.  We had crushes on the same TV personalities, like Quentin Collins and Hannible Heyes, although Julie had a crush on Spock while I idolized Captain Kirk.  We shared the same books, notably James Blish's Star Trek series.  When we played together, it was usually "veterinarians," where we would bandage our stuffed animals up and take care of them.  We both wanted to be veterinarians when we grew up, but neither of us made it.  We both loved our dogs and they were our best friends when we weren't together.   

In fourth grade, Julie and my duo became a trio.  I don't know where Maria's family lived before they moved to West Hanover Township, although I know she just told me recently.  Like I said, memory is a funny thing.  Our new threesome ran together and shared whatever we could.  At one point we were even on the same softball team together.  I thought it was great but I don't think Julie ever liked sports.  If you look at our team photo from West Hanover's Seminoles softball team, Julie looks like she is being tortured.  Maria played for awhile but found other sports she preferred, like swimming.  But even though we were finding things that we liked doing apart from each other, our friendship remained solid.  Recess has a way of keeping friendships forged.

But then came junior high, and later high school.  We were separated.  Julie said she went home from school our first day of junior high and told her mother she wasn't going back because we weren't in any classes together.  Her mother thought differently.  We were never in the same classes, never the same lunch, never the same anything.  At that age we were too young to know what a precious thing our friendship was, and we all grew apart.  It wouldn't have taken much effort to stay friends - we all lived within a square mile of each other.  I suppose at that age we start to become more self-centered or lazy or something.  I'm not really sure.  We all found other friends, ones that we saw more often, ones with whom we attended classes or church.  Maria and Julie stayed in the same classes until high school, Maria and I in the same church until then as well, and then we all just sort of drifted away from each other.  I don't even have Julie or Maria's high school senior photos.

Julie got married soon after high school, a mistake as it would later turn out, with the exception of the births of her two children.  Maria and I went to college and then grad school, leaving the area for awhile, although Maria was first to return, now a doctor.  I returned in 1990.  None of us knew where each other was, although I was pretty sure Julie still lived in her childhood home. I didn't try to contact her. Although I thought about both Julie and Maria often, we were no longer in elementary school.  By then we were different people with different lives.  I assumed that childhood friendships were only good during childhood.  

Julie had remarried in the 1980s to a wonderful man she called her "soul mate."  The two obviously share a deep respect and love with each other that even death will not destroy.  She worked a few different jobs but settled into a position with West Hanover Township, which is where my sister ran across her and found out that she had cancer.  At the time I was working in the Hershey Medical Center as a chaplain and after my sister told me, I tried to contact her.  My calls were not returned.  I supposed Julie might have felt as awkward as I.  About a year later Julie's sister Pam  contacted me and told me Julie's cancer progressed and to try again to call Julie.  Apparently, Julie did want to see me.   

I felt a little awkward when I went to Julie and Don's home, a place that appeared pretty much as I remembered from 40 years earlier, even though Julie and Don had added to the place.  I wasn't sure what I was going to say until I saw her there, in a hospital bed in a sunny back room surrounded by windows and bird feeders and pictures of butterflies.  Nothing had changed.  Our friendship was as real as it was when we were 6 years old.  The thin and frail person before me was still Julie, my wonderful and absolutely beautiful friend.  Though her eyes were sunken they were bright and alive.  Her smile warmed my heart and took me back to a simpler time.  It was as if 40 years had never occurred.  Her hug and kiss on the cheek were the seal of a friendship that would never die, and never could.  

Yes, Julie and I had lived almost our whole lives apart.  I guess that is the funny part about love.  Our lives consist of the physical, the palpable, the concrete, real in the material aspect,  and born of our physical selves while in touch with our physical surroundings.  We think that love is as well, but it is not.  Love is intangible, impossible to define, ethereal, born of the soul, emanating from the heart of the Creator.  Love is not defined by our limited ability to explain or understand it.  Love is not limited by time.  True love never dies.  Because our English language is limited, we often equate the word "love" with romantic love, but there are so many more types of love.  The Greeks had three words for love, but even those have limitations.  A love born of friendship is a love that is deep and abiding, able to withstand the passage of years, and is forgiving of the foibles of character that make us drift apart and remain apart for too long.  It is able to survive our fear, our cynicism, and the things in life that change us and tend to harden our hearts toward others, and even toward ourselves.  It is accepting of what we've experienced and what we've become.  Above all else, this kind of love is supportive, trusting, honest and uncomplicated.  It doesn't ask why people drift apart, but simply rejoices when they are reunited.  True love survives.

Although Julie taught me many things when we were small, about trust and joy and friendship, perhaps this lesson of love is the most important.  Julie doesn't know she taught me these things and I'm sure she never intended to.  Sometimes lessons just happen.  And although I never reached out to her in all the years we were apart, she was always a part of me, and that I always knew.  That's because I knew that childhood friendship, that innocent love, was always there.  I missed that friendship and love, but I didn't know how much until I re-experienced it, and now have to leave it once more.  But I know that love does not die and one day, in the not so distant future, I will see Julie again, and that innocent childhood friendship will once again live, just as Julie does now, in the realm of the unseen and ethereal, in the realm of love and of God.

  

Thank you, Pam, for urging me to contact you sister.
Thank you, Don, for allowing me into your home and for loving Julie like no other.   
Julie, I'll see you again, old friend.  I love you.  Thank you for your friendship and your love.

The Gospel of Prosperity

     We think of the Gospel of Prosperity as a new phenomenon. It isn't.  The idea of Christian prosperity has been around much longer than we realize.  If we go back in time a about 100 years, to 1900, the Reverend Russell Conwell spoke about it in Acres of Diamonds.  Here is what he had to say:

     "I say that you ought to get rich, and it is your duty to get rich.  How many of my pious brethren say to me, 'Do you, a Christian minister, spend your time going up and down the country advising young people to get rich, to get money?'  'Yes, of course I do.'  They say, 'Isn't that awful!  Why don't you preach the gospel instead of preaching about man's making money?'  'Because to make money honestly is to preach the gospel.'  That is the reason.  The men who get rich may be the most honest men you find in the community.
     'Oh,' but says some young man here tonight, 'I have been told all my life that if a person has money he is very dishonest and dishonorable and mean and contemptible.'  My friend, that is the reason why you have none, because yo have the wrong idea of people.  The foundation of your faith is altogether false.  Let me say here clearly, and say it briefly, though subject to discussion which I have not time for here, ninety-eight out of one hundred of the rich men of America are honest.  That is why they are rich.  That is why they are trusted with money.  That is why they carry on great enterprises and find plenty of people to work with them.  It is because they are honest men.
    

My friend, you take and drive me-if you furnish the auto-out into the suburbs of Philadelphia, and introduce me to the people who own their homes around this great city, those beautiful homes with gardens and flowers, those magnificent homes so lovely in their art, and I will introduce you to the very best people in character as well as in enterprise in our city, and you know I will.  A man is not really a true man until he owns his own home, and they that own their homes are made more honorable and honest and pure, and true and economical and careful, by owning the home.
     For a man to have money, even in large sums, is not an inconsistent thing.  We preach against covetousness, and you know we do, in the pulpit, and oftentimes preach against it so long and use the terms about 'filthy lucre' so extremely that Christians get the idea that when we stand in the pulpit we believe it is wicked for any man to have money-until the collection basket goes around, and then we almost swear at the people because they don't give more money.  Oh, the inconsistency of such doctrines as that!
     Money is power, and you ought to be reasonably ambitious to have it.  You ought because you can do more good with it than you could without it.  Money printed your Bible, money builds your churches, money sends your missionaries, and money pays your preachers, and you would not have many of them, either, if you did not pay them.  I am always willing that my church should raise my salary, because the church that pays the largest salary always raises it the easiest.  You never knew an exception to it in your life.  The man who gets the largest salary can do the most good with the power that is furnished to him.  Of course he can if his spirit be right to use it for what it is given him.
     I say, then, you ought to have money.  If you can honestly attain unto riches in Philadelphia, it is your Christina and godly duty to do so.  It is an awful mistake of these pious people to think you must be awfully poor in order to be pious."

     What do you think about Conwell's sentiments?   The Gospel of Prosperity is very  popular today.  If you've watched just about any preacher (but not all) on television, you've probably heard the Gospel of Prosperity preached.  People like it because, as it is preached today, wealth comes as a result of your own goodness, prayer, and work.  Wealth is a sign of God's blessing, and it becomes a matter of faith.  Ministers today also preach that this blessing of money is biblical.  

What do you think about Conwell's preaching and the Gospel of Prosperity?  I really would like to know.  If you would, please think about it for a minute and write your comments below.  It will give us all a chance to see what others think about this old, yet new, take on Christian money and wealth.  I'm going to do a little research and another post about this topic, so if you are interested, help me out with your take on this subject. Thanks!

Death

Death is nothing at all.  I have only slipped away into the next room.  I am I, and you are you.  Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.  Call me by my old familiar name, speak to me in the easy way which you always used.  Put no difference in your tone, wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.  Pray, smile, think of me, pray for me.  Let my name be ever the household word that it always was, let it be spoken without effect, without a trace of a shadow on it.  Life means all that it ever meant.  It is the same as it ever was; there is unbroken continuity.  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?  I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very  near, just around the corner.  All is well.

author unknown

How to show you are the Light of Christ

1.    Act self righteously.
2.    Jump to conclusions.
3.    Be judgmental.
4.    Keep others from living out their call to serve Christ.

5.    Assume that none your actions affect others because everyone has free will and outcomes rest on them alone.

6.    Be defensive. 

7.    Refuse to hear, refuse to listen.

8.    Treat others as inferior to yourself.

9.    Accuse others for your own shortfalls.

10.  Never forgive.

11.  Never reconsider first impressions.

12.  If angered by someone, dredge up something they told you in confidence and use it    against them.

13.  Assume that since you pray to God for answers, every decision you make is sanctioned by God.
14.  Assume that if someone annoys you or makes you angry, God feels the same way.
15.  Have no time for or interest in anyone's ministry but your own.
16.  Assume that if someone does not complete or achieve something within your time constraints their contributions are irrelevant.

17.  See all others as a threat to your “sovereignty.”
18.  Squash someone’s creativity because it’s not what you had in mind.
19.  See only one way to achieve a goal.
20.  Although the universe is not geocentric or heliocentric, think that God did make it revolve around you.
21.  Have no room in your heart for people unlike yourself.

22.  Have no understanding or love for those whom you have injured, or continue to injure, through actions, inaction, or words.

23.  Be degrading or make jokes about the opposite sex, or anyone unlike yourself.
24.  Don’t allow for grace concerning those who have been damaged by the world.
25.  Believe that you have the only accurate and truthful interpretation of scripture, or that scripture only speaks to you.

26.  Assume you are superior to others in worship.

27.  Be a total hypocrite.

28.  Refuse to admit when you are wrong.

29.  Refuse to ask forgiveness.
30.  Believe that you are irreplaceable because of the talents God has given you.
31.  Assume that because someone does something differently than you, they are wrong.
32.  Be unable to take an honest look at yourself to recognize your own shortfalls or issues.
33.  Assume that you are exactly as God wants you to be, and refuse to grow.

34.  Pretend to love others instead of really loving them.  

The Social Gospel

The Social Gospel according to Walter Rauschenbush (Social Gospel, 1900), paraphrased by me:.

All of Jesus' thinking and teaching centered on his hope for the kingdom of God.  We can understand his moral teaching only if we have that same center.  He wasn't a Greek philosopher or Hindu guru who taught how to withdraw from the world in order to obtain a personally elevated understanding of oneself.  He was a Hebrew prophet trying to prepare humankind for the coming righteous social order by attempting to teach us a goodness that would enable us to live in positive, just, synergistic relationships with one another, so we could become a truly social society.

All human goodness must embody itself in social goodness.  Fundamentally, people want to be in relationship with each other; we are drawn to social relationships.  We judge someone's morality by how they relate to and are active in the community.  A social person is moral; an anti-social person is immoral.  The highest type of goodness is a goodness offered by individuals who use all their gifts, without holding back, for the benefit of the community.  The worst type of badness is when a person uses the wealth, happiness and moral excellence of the community for selfish reasons.

All of Jesus' ethics were based on love, because love is the key to any society.  All human life originates in love.  Love holds together the family, the core human social group.  The expression of all love and friendship is the desire to get together and be together.  Love creates fellowship.

Pride disrupts society.  Love equalizes.  Humility becomes just a part of the community.  When Jesus heard his disciples arguing about which of them was most important, he rebuked them and brought a child in; because a child, before he or she has been influenced by the world, is social, quickly makes friends, happily plays with others, and is lonely without love.  When Jesus again heard the disciples arguing about where they would sit during their last meal together, he set the example of servanthood and community by washing their feet.

All of these acts and sayings reflect both the kingdom of God and God's intention for the ideal society.  Instead of society resting on coercion, exploitation and inequality, Jesus attempted to show us a what society could be if it were based on love, service and equality.  Love, service and equality were the core of Jesus' character and his view of life, so much so that he lived them out spontaneously and by example, through his speech and actions, teaching them to everyone.  God is the head of the household; men and women are neighbors, brothers and sisters, and all should act accordingly.  If humankind would simply love, all life would be true and good.  If humankind would simply seek the kingdom, all things would follow.  Under no circumstances should we allow fellowship to be permanently disrupted.  If individuals or a class or group found themselves outside the community, Jesus tried to heal the breach.