Fascism, anyone?

It's time to look at the 12 warning signs of fascism again. While the imagery designed at the site focused on national politics, the same principles apply to church politics.

Go here.

Insert +Iker or +Akinola or +Duncan's face for Bush's or Cheney's, and see what you get.



Sexism, homophobia, intellectual bullying, spiritual abuse, identifying dissenters as treasonous (revisionist-not-real-Christians) are all acceptable, in this brave, new world.

Adios, muchachos ...

Simon Sarmiento has a post over at Thinking Anglicans that adds to the evidence the Anglican Communion is already splitting in two. He quotes from announcements of 93 Nigerian bishops who just met for an annual retreat:

Lambeth 2008

We stand by our earlier endorsement of the recommendations of the Council of Anglican Provinces in Africa (CAPA) document: “The Road to Lambeth” and maintain the posture that we cannot claim to share fellowship with member-Provinces that denigrate the authority of Scripture on the life of the Church. Our participation in this worldwide fellowship is contingent on genuine repentance by those who have chosen to walk away, for two cannot walk together except they are in agreement. Christian unity must be anchored on Biblical truth.

Well, my Nigerian brothers, it's difficult to walk with someone who swings a baseball bat at me for expressing thoughts that go against your "convictions" (feel free to read that as "prejudices.")

It's odd -- I can see two friends walking down the road together, then sitting at a café together. They're talking, discussing, arguing, and breaking bread together.

But your hot-button "convictions" are too powerful to allow you to hear anything that contradicts them. So you accuse your friend of walking apart, as you make a sharp turn to the right. Besides, you see opportunities to take over this now unworthy friend's home and acquaintances. You want to be unyoked from him, disavow him to yourself and others, and justify your actions.

Go in peace, then, bubbas.

Spiritual blindness

To read a great essay about the state of the church, the Communion and madness of some of the thinking going on, read this:

Admiral of Morality: "No authority to diminish the personhood of a single one of God's children for any reason whatsoever"

Thanks to the Admiral for posting it. It's by Bruce Garner, a member of the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church, and here's a brief clip from the essay:

... the Covenant Design Group, the Dallas and Ft. Worth "plans", the Texas meeting and so much of the other "stuff" going on are simply further sometimes covert but often not manifestations and examples of sexism, racism, heterosexism and homophobia.

Now we can place theological position names on these actions and attitudes and we can dress them up with different code words and new dresses and suits, but they remain very real manifestations of "modern racism."

Characteristics are attributed to groups of people using a very broad brush.

Those characteristics are intended to somehow diminish those who are in the groups as children of God. It becomes ok to label them in an effort to figure out how they don't really "fit in" with everyone else. It becomes ok to very subtly treat them differently because of characteristics that are inherent in them. (Let's not go into the nature/nurture issue or the orientation/behavior distinctions...they are in themselves simply further manifestations of ways to diminish the worth of individuals by those who either can't accept or understand them, fear them, hate them or whatever happens to bounce through one's head at the moment. ) And of course, in some cases, the different treatment is far from subtle. Witness [the dioceses of] Ft. Worth, Quincy, Dallas, SC[South Carolia]. CFL [Central Florida] just to name a few. And yes I can hear the howls of protest, but don't waste time or postings with those. Actions have clearly spoken louder than words used in denial of the reality that exists for a variety of "target group" folks in those places...

As much as I have tried, I just can not find any evidence where any of us has been given the authority to judge another of us in our relationship to God or our personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Yet some do that on a daily basis in the name and cover of theological purity or some other such nonsense. Let's be clear: Jesus did not give us that authority over each other. Despite our best efforts to justify exceptions or qualifications to the "second and great commandment," there are none. Love your neighbor as yourself is simple, direct and clear. We don't get to choose. We don't get to qualify. We don't get to except anyone from that commandment.

It struck me, reading this post, what a blindness, perhaps deliberate blindness, there is, among the ones who presume to judge who isn't a "real" Christian or fit to take Communion.

Some of the African leaders want the Archbishop of Canterbury to disinvite Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori from the Tanzania meeting in February"

Kenyan Archbishop Benjamin Nzimbi said he found it "difficult to share a meeting with somebody who is ... fighting what we believe Scripture is saying.

"There is dialogue, this can take place, but I think we have listened to one another enough," he told Reuters.

A spokesman for Nigeria's Archbishop Peter Akinola, Africa's staunchest opponent of gay rights, said many primates -- heads of member churches -- were loathe to meet with Jefferts Schori.

"How that can be done remains mere speculation, " said Canon Akintunde Popoola. In an unprecedented move, several primates refused to take communion alongside Frank Griswold, Jefferts Schori's predecessor, at their last meeting in February 2005.


And who are they to usurp the privilege and authority of Jesus Christ?


Meanwhile, Bishop Howe of Central Florida is saying it's not really alternative oversight he asked for, since the PB doesn't really have any authority in diocese, anyway.

Howe is the one who invited Schori to the diocese right after convention, then "disinvited" her to visit.

In the January Diocesan newsletter, he stated, "In our joint Communique to the Archbishop, dated July 20,2006, the Bishops of the (then) seven Dioceses attempted to make clear that what we were asking for was not so much 'oversight' as a continuing relationship with him and the rest of the Communion of 'full constituent membership' (while the rest of the Episcopal Church seems to be moving toward some kind of 'associate' membership -- again, using the words of the Archbishop himself.)"

Again, it's the real ("first tier") Christians versus the "not-real" Christians, he has judged.

It's the blindness of modern racism and the deliberate blindness of self-interest.

Prayer Request

Please keep my mother, Marie, in your prayers. She fell and injured her hip; had a hip-socket replacement Monday, and all seemed to be going well. This morning, however, she's in intensive care with atrial fibrillation -- a racing heart rate. It's one of the health problems that she's had the last few years, along with the advancing dementia, and it's life-threatening. There's also the possibility of a blood clot or stroke as a post-surgery complication.

Thanks.

***

UPDATE 5 p.m. - Good news:

The ICU nurse said Mom's heart rate has come way down, and she's doing "fine," but Mom will remain in ICU.

Friday, jan. 12

Update: Mom's out of ICU and back into a regular hospital bed.

Black Monday:
two missives issued Monday, Jan. 8

All right, all you Bishop's Best Girls who have been walking in goose-step with the ultraconservative agenda in this diocese. The writing is on the wall.

If you're ordained, don't look for there to be much of a place around here for you. Oh, there might be a well-connected, token favorite or two kept around. The rest of you will be pushed into the background or out. The ones of you in seminary now have probably figured out you need to look for jobs in other dioceses when you graduate.

You didn't think the forces of prejudice, the ones who want to turn the clock back 60 or 100 years would turn on you, as you backed the anti-gay hysteria agitated by the AAC/Network groups. You were in there solid with the conservative push, after all.

Read on. Read the writing on the wall.

Episcopal News Service
January 8, 2007

Panel of Reference tells Episcopal Church it should clarify stance on women's ordination

Wording of canon on availability of ordination process called 'ambiguous'

By Mary Frances Schjonberg

[ENS] The Anglican Communion's Panel of Reference
(http://www.aco. org/commission/ reference/ index.cfm) has recommended that the Archbishop of
Canterbury discuss with the Presiding Bishop the possibility of clarifying what it called the
ambiguous wording of a 1997 amendment to the Episcopal Church's ordination canon "so as to
ensure that the permissive nature of the ordination of women is maintained in any diocese."

"At the same time the apparent intention of the amendment to defend the interests of women
candidates for postulancy, candidacy and ordination in a diocese that does not ordain women
would be underscored, " the panel's recommendation said.

The recommendations are part of a report
(http://www.aco. org/commission/ reference/ docs/Fort_ Worth_final. pdf) issued by the panel
sometime in December and posted on the Anglican Communion Office's website January 8. The
panel's report is its response to a submission by the Diocese of Fort Worth
(http://www.fwepisco pal.org) which states that the diocese and its bishop, Jack Iker, "are
concerned that the action of the General Convention of ECUSA in passing Canons which makes
women's ordination mandatory makes it impossible for the Diocese at some future date to
receive confirmation of the election as their bishop of a man who disapproves of the
ordination of women to the presbyterate and/or episcopate."

The diocese has put in place a procedure known as the Dallas Plan to provide women access to
the ordination process and provide for parishes that want to call a woman priest.

Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori said, in response to the report, that "We
recognize that women do have access to ordination under the Dallas Plan at present, which
seems to address the intent of the canon."

No timeframe has yet been set for consultation during which the Presiding Bishop and the
Archbishop of Canterbury will take up further discussion of the issues at hand.

Full story: http://www.episcopa lchurch.org/ 3577_81044_ ENG_HTM.htm

-ENS provides information and resources which we consider to be of interest to our readers.
However, statements and opinions expressed in the articles and communications herein, are
those of the author(s) and not necessarily those of ENS or the Episcopal Church.



Missive No. 2:

Thugs in charge of the Communion

I'm not sure what to think of this. I'd like to ask the Archbishop of Canterbury what he's thinking! So Drexel Gomez will be leading a "covenant design group?"

At this point, I don't know that I have any confidence left in the ABC or the Anglican Communion.

But they'll probably spend years arguing over terms of the covenant.
It's interesting there is a woman on the panel. Will the Diocese of Fort Worth be able to accept its recommendations?


ACNS 4235 | LAMBETH | 09 JANUARY 2007
Archbishop of Canterbury announces Covenant Design Group members

The Archbishop of Canterbury today announced the members of the Covenant Design Group that he has appointed in response to a request of the Joint Standing Committee of the Primates’ Meeting and of the Anglican Consultative Council.

The group will meet under the chairmanship of the Primate of the West Indies, Archbishop Drexel Gomez, and includes experts in canon law, the nature and mission of of the church and ecumenical relations from around the Communion. In addition to a small core group, the Archbishop is also appointing a wider circle of corresponding members, who will be assisting the Group’s work.

The Group will hold its first meeting in Nassau, the Bahamas, in mid-January 2007, and present an interim report to the Primates Meeting and Joint Standing Committee when they meet in February in Tanzania.

The members are listed below:


The Most Revd Drexel Gomez, West Indies
The Revd Victor Atta-Baffoe, West Africa
The Most Revd Dr John Chew, South East Asia
Ms Sriyanganie Fernando, Ceylon
The Revd Dr Kathy Grieb, USA
The Rt Revd Santosh Marray, Indian Ocean
The Most Revd John Neill, Ireland
The Revd Canon Andrew Norman, Archbishop of Canterbury’s Representative
Chancellor Rubie Nottage, West Indies, Consultant
The Revd Dr Ephraim Radner, USA
Ms Nomfundo Walaza, Southern Africa
The Revd Canon Gregory Cameron, Anglican Communion Office, Secretary

Make me stop. Please.

As I took Betsy for a walk in the early morning chill (75 degrees here in Central Florida), I realized I was singing "Jingle Bells."

Then, I was singing "Silver Bells."

Somebody, make me stop.

Tomorrow, it's supposed to turn cooler.

Winter no relief for allergy sufferers

TRENTON, N.J. - AP The unseasonably warm weather along the East Coast has flooded some offices with patients suffering from an unusual ailment this time of year: allergies.

Doctors say this winter's weather has sparked an onslaught of mold spores that cause allergies and fluctuating temperatures that irritate already-suffering nasal passages. Many patients may confuse an allergic reaction with a common cold.



Yed, I doe.

While people in the Northwest are being buried under snowstorms, we on the eastern coast are having unseasonably warm weather. Mold and mildew proliferate in Florida. There's no snow in the Northeast, forcing ski slopes to close down. Trees are budding -- and will suffer for it, if the weather snaps back with a freeze.

I just heard a meteorologist predicting a record-breaking warm year for 2007, due at least in part to global warming.

On a rant

I'm sorry. I've been on a mental rant about this for more than a week. See preceding entry for reasons.

Michael Moore (Farenheit 911) was right. This administration is going after our young people, the ones with limited opportunities, and using them as cannon fodder.

I watched a discussion on Chris Matthews' TV show last week, about the shortage of military personnel. No one would use the big "D" word -- draft -- even Chris Matthews. It's being used now. That's a good thing, I think. Maybe it will put an end to this war.

Mr. President, where are your daughters?
Show us the party girls in desert drab
sleeping on sand in an Army pod,
eating Halliburton food, carrying rifles.

Mr. President, send your own to slaughter
if this is a just war; if you want
to be a wartime president
to get revenge for your pa
to avoid tracking Osama
to reward your business buddies.

O, senators, where are your children?
O, congressmen, defense contractor execs,
cabinet members,
where are yours?
Where are yours?

Happy New Year - some headlines

updated New Year's morning

It was the best of times,

• NEW: Celebrations around the globe usher in 2007

It was the worst of times

Pentagon: U.S. troop deaths reach 3,000

Addendum:

Why I included this awful New Year's news. Put it together with this.

From a National Priorities Project (NPP) newsletter I received last week:

Army Fails to Meet its Own Recruitment Benchmarks;
Wealthy Recruits Continue to be Under-Represented

Northampton, MA -- The Army filled its ranks in 2006 by ignoring
its own benchmarks for recruits' education standards, according to an analysis of 2006 military recruitment data released today by the National Priorities Project (NPP), a non-profit research organization that studies the local impact of federal policies.

According to the Army's benchmark, 90 percent of new recruits should have a high school diploma. In 2006, 73 percent of all new recruits met this requirement, a drop of 13 percentage points since 2004.

"While President Bush talks about expanding the troops to fight the war in Iraq, the Army is already going after kids who haven't had the privilege of finishing high school," said Anita Dancs, research director of the National Priorities Project. "It appears that the Army's ticket to recruitment success is finding young men and women with limited opportunities."

At the same time, 2006 Army recruits from wealthy neighborhoods -- those with median household incomes of $60,000 and above -- continued to be under-represented at about the same level as 2005 and more so than in 2004, according to the NPP analysis. The low- and middle-income neighborhoods were more over-represented than in 2004.

State and county military recruitment data and analysis are available at www.nationalpriorities.org/militaryrecruits06. While the Army met its goals for new recruits in 2006, it did so with a significant drop in what the Department of Defense (DoD) deems to be 'high quality' recruits. This qualification requires a high school diploma and a score of at least the 50th percentile on the Armed Forces Qualification Test. In 2006, according to the DoD's criteria, more than half of the Army´s recruits for active-service duty were 'non-high quality,' well below their 60 percent benchmark. The 47 percent of recruits who were 'high quality' in 2006 is 14 percentage points lower than the 61 percent in 2004.

"The answer to these inequities or shortfalls in military recruiting is not a draft," Dancs continued. "Instead, we should be talking about how we can ensure these young people get a quality education and avoid this devil's choice by not engaging in wars of
choice."

Or how about just ending this war? -- Saint Pat

Back to the newsletter: The NPP analysis indicates that the states with the largest proportion of high-quality recruits were: North Dakota (59 percent), Nebraska, Iowa, Wisconsin, Connecticut, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Ohio, Pennsylvania and South Dakota. All of those except for Nebraska and Wisconsin had recruiting rates (recruits per 1000 youth population) below the national average. None of these states had a proportion of high-quality recruits equal to the national average of 2004.

The states with the lowest proportion of high-quality recruits were: Mississippi (35 percent), Alabama (37 percent), Arkansas, Louisiana, Nevada, Georgia, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Hawaii, and Tennessee. Of those, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Rhode Island were below the national recruiting rate.


May the Prince of Peace soften the hearts of the warmongers, so all will put down their weapons, in Iraq and other places in the world where mothers' children are dying.

May the words of the prophet be fulfilled:
"He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore."
-- Isaiah 2:4

Have a safe, joyous, blessed, wonderful and peaceful New Year.

Another goodbye

This is an entry I've put off writing until after Christmas Day.

Father J made the announcement he will be leaving, going to a parish up in the Midwest, where he's from.

Sigh.

I've become fond of him over the past three years, and though his leaving will leave me sad, I can't help thinking, "Good for him."

Apart from any desire to be closer to home, this isn't a diocese in which it's easy to head a parish, except maybe for Network types who just march to the tune with blinders on. The average rector gets headaches and heartburn, I suspect, trying to hold his or her parish together.

In this parish, people have left because Father J hasn't stood up to the bishop. People have left because he hasn't made a firm conservative stand (even though his views on sexuality are pretty conservative), and he's even had female clergy in the parish. He voted against joining the Network.

In a polarized diocese like this one in Central Florida, it's hard to take a moderate stand.

What is the sound of one refrigerator door opening?

It's never opened in solitude.

Great mercies

We had barely gotten through the Christmas-Day twister when there was more bad news: a forecast for more severe weather, including tornadoes, to usher in the New Year.Now the forecast has changed, and while we're still expected to get some thunderstorms, the National Weather Service says there's little chance of tornadic activity this weekend. Yaay! Thank you, Lord.

The weather has been schizo this week, going from a low of 40 to a high of 80 within a day. Warm, chilly, hot, chilly.

Cleanup from Christmas twisters has really just begun. We don't need any extreme weather, thank you.

Tidings of good cheer

When I need a smile or good-cheer restorer, I always head over to MadPriest's, and tonight I wasn't disappointed. Among the delights are a most interesting interpretation of "Good King Wenceslas" and more wonderful Christmas music.

Check out Of course, I could be wrong...: The DVant Disco Presents
A St. Stephen's Day Special.

I feel much better already.

No atheist in the twister's path

I was on the scene of the twister's path today, and saw the devastation the tornado wreaked. More than 50 homes were totally destroyed, and another 150 damaged. No one died. There were few serious injuries.

It's almost unbelievable.

Stuff like this makes me think God is indeed merciful.

People will suffer a lot of hardship as they try to rebuild their lives. Some will bear emotional scars; an event like this is an injury to the soul. With God's grace, and the help of their friends and neighbors, they will recover.

Images from the aftermath

Christmas-Day disaster

Just after I finished posting the blog entry below, a thunderstorm came through, and knocked out the power at my house all Christmas afternoon. We've had warm, wet weather all week, with 80-degree high temperatures. A cold front collided with the warm system Christmas Day, bringing the storms.

I was lucky. While I only lost power, an F2 tornado ravaged several mobile home communities to the north of town, ripping homes to shreds. I haven't heard of any casualties, but I hear unofficially there are up to 50 families unaccounted for.

Of course, on Christmas Day, many of these families may not have been home, but away, visiting friends or relatives.

Please join me in prayer that no one died. Pray for those who suddenly found themselves without a home, without any of their possessions.

Dear God, we pray you hold these storm victims in your mercy. Comfort the mourning, the frightened, the injured and hurting. Grant them peace and the courage to get through the coming days. Guide the rescue workers and searchers; keep them safe, and bless their efforts. We ask these things in the name of your son, our savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

****

Update 8:04 a.m. Dec. 26 -- Still no fatalities reported -- great non-news! Thank you, Lord.

A dog for Christmas

I don't think I've told the story of how I came to own Betsy, the Best Dog in the World.

The very best dog in the whole, wide world



I had moved into this house, and hadn't owned a dog for years, after living in apartments. I had Zsa Zsa, a cranky apricot-Persian cat, but I wanted a dog, too. I decided I would go to the local Humane Society and find a cute little lap dog -- that's what I had in mind, anyway -- one who would be 10-15 pounds when fully grown.

My plan was to take off work early, and hit the local Humane Society. That morning, just before Christmas, however, I heard a report on the television about how the Humane Society in the county just to the north had been inundated with dogs. Staff at the overcrowded facility would be forced to start putting down dogs soon.

I changed plans and drove northward through the back roads to that shelter, instead of the local one.

The place was overflowing with dogs. Most of them were big bruisers, though, and I didn't want an aggressive Rottweiler or pit bull. (There are a lot of people who live in the back woods up there, who like big, aggressive dogs. I won't use the "R" word.) The few smaller dogs seemed to have poor dispositions, not good pet quality or to be trusted around a rather sickly elderly cat, either.

After walking back and forth, looking at the howling horde, I decided I'd made a mistake driving north; there wasn't a dog for me there. I'd have to visit another shelter.

One of the workers said, "Did you see the little border collie?"

I hadn't. I like border collies.

She took me back to one of the pens, and there, sitting quietly behind some big bruisers was Betsy. Betsy was three-and-a-half months old. She had been adopted out from the shelter, then returned, her owners stating they had to move and couldn't take Betsy with them.

This may have been true; I generally consider such statements to mean, "We decided we didn't want that dog."

What foolish people, if so. I walked Betsy around the grounds, and her forlorn demeanor turned cheerful.

I brought her home, and Zsa Zsa, who disliked most people and hated all other cats, took to Betsy immediately. She would wash Betsy's face for her.

Betsy tenderly took care of Jack, who came into the household as a tiny kitten with a clawed-up face and punctured, infected eyeball. Jack loved Betsy immediately.

Elvis took a little longer to adjust -- he came out of my mother's house, where there was a dog who used to tyrannize and terrify him. Betsy won over Elvis after a while, though, and now the two of them sleep side by side.

Betsy had been partly house-trained, and it took little work to complete the job. Betsy is a smart girl, and caught on quickly. She's a very social dog, who gets along with other pets and loves to be around people.

She's been my constant companion these seven years, always greeting me at the door when I come in, staying at my heels as I move about the house, and sleeping at the foot of my bed. She's snoozing, inches from me, as I write this.

Betsy's very favorite thing is going for walks. Going for a walk in a Christmas parade is even better, in her book.

Betsy: "Let's go for a walk!"


Her exuberance, her zest for life cheer me when I'm down. Her loving nature touches me when I feel all alone.

She is the Christmas dog, a wonderful gift from God.

I've noticed my little puppy-girl is looking middle-aged these days. The white that used to just touch the end of her muzzle has spread upward toward her eyes, and she's getting the loose skin of a middle-aged dog around her eyes.

She still dances with joy over a walk, praise, a treat, a trip with me in the car, or a visitor to the house, and she still races around playing games with Jack.

I pray she'll be my companion for many years to come. All 46 pounds of her.

Of cats and Christmas trees

WARNING: Advent purists, cover your eyes. Yes, a CHRISTMAS TREE!!!!

The tree's been up for a week now -- the first one to grace the semi-saintly household in six years.

I retrieved the big box full of tree parts from the attic last Sunday afternoon, and sneezed as I sorted out branches of various sizes, pipes and footings. The tree came up. I fluffed out its branches, sneezing a little more, and opened boxes of ornaments that had been waiting so long for me to pull them out.

A new, dollar-store, lighted star went atop the tree, and I pronounced it lovely.

Wisely (I thought), I put the more fragile and precious ornaments higher on the tree, out of Jack the Brat's reach. This worked well all week; I would come home from work to find four or five of the sturdier ornaments on the floor. Jack likes to pull them off the tree with his claws, as well as use them, as they dangle from their branches, like a boxer uses a punching bag.

The tree, slightly worse for wear



I have some ornaments from my childhood, obtained when, about 10 years ago, my mother decided she didn't want her Christmas tree ornaments any more, and she would buy new ones. Not a lot were left from my childhood, but some, and some from many years of Christmas past.

My mother was never a sentimentalist. She would hold onto old butter tubs for 10 years, but family keepsakes would bite the dust, labelled "old junk."

There was one lovely blue ornament, with the words "Silent Night" in white-and-silver frosted lettering floating above a little village. I had it high up, out of Jack's reach.

Last night, Jack apparently decided he would climb in among the tree branches and wait, like a crafty leopard, for some poor, hapless cat like Elvis to come sauntering by, and pounce!

I could see the holes in the tree where the freshly fluffed branches were mashed down.

The blue ornament apparently came flying off the tree, hit the edge of the coffee table, and slid to the floor in a smithereened heap. One of its kinfolk met a similar fate. More ornaments lay still on the floor, casualties of Christmas carnage.

Some of the forensic evidence, held for future proceedings



I was somewhat put out. Jack the Brat obviously realized that, and disappeared while I cleaned broken glass from the floor and got ready for the Advent IV church service. He's been extra sweet this afternoon, but couldn't resist trying to climb into the tree once. Sigh.

"Honest, it wasn't me. I didn't do it."


"Yeah, it was Jacko, all right"


Ah well. I spent the afternoon roasting a chicken I'd planned to cook yesterday, but went to the movies instead. Betsy, the cats and I had a little taste, but its about to go into the refrigerator -- I'm having dinner at friends' tonight. The chicken will be good for leftovers tomorrow, and for chicken sandwiches. I used my special recipe of fresh orange, garlic, pepper blend and sage. Heavenly. Crispy skin on the outside, succulent and falling-off-the-bone tender inside.

I like to roast a chicken or turkey at Christmastime -- it makes the house smell so good, along with the pumpkin pie that's in the oven now. It will go out to dinner with me, at the house of some friends. Then, I'll be off to the midnight service, where I'll serve at the altar. This is my favorite service, and time to serve, of the year.

Now, I'm sitting here with a cup of latte, made with my own espresso machine -- my Christmas gift to me. Jack's perched in the chair next to me, his favorite spot when I'm on the computer.

"This is pretty tame, after being a TREE leopard!"



Good times.

Addendum, in answer to Caminante's question.

Stay mad? Who could stay mad at this?

O Come Emmanuel

The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call Him Emmanuel. Isaiah 7:14

Here's a great site for pre-Christmas perusing: Take a look at the history and prophetic references found in the hymn O Come, O Come Emmanuel, with a midi, too.

There's a whole section on Christmas hymns -- just go to the main page and choose 'topic."

It's truly, truly awful

Just in time for Christmas -- the mayhem and chaos of Christmas toys past, recalled. It's truly, truly awful. Heed this warning if you choose to visit.

The descriptions of these recalled toys and the damage they've inflicted are so funny, you'll find yourself guiltily laughing at them. You'll have to says prayers of repentance. Perhaps even go to confession.

Feeling truly unsaintly,

Musings on a Mexican Christmas

One of the neat things about my job is I get to go places and see things I wouldn't ordinarily see. Saturday, I went up the road for my second visit to a Mexican-migrant community of fernery workers, and watched a celebration of Las Posadas.

Las Posadas is a traditional Mexican Christmas celebration. Beginning Dec. 16, nine consecutive days of candlelight processions, prayers to God and parties pave the way for Christmas Day.

Each day, children lead a procession, re-enacting the Holy Family's attempt to find lodging in Bethlehem. The procession stops at a designated house to sing a traditional litany, through which the Holy Family requests shelter for the night. The children are turned away.

The scene is repeated at a second home.

At the third stop, the pilgrims are told that while there is no room in the posada (inn), they are welcome to take refuge in the stable. This time, the doors open wide, all are invited to enter, and the celebration begins, with food, music, and gifts for the children.

Since the homes here in Central Florida are more spread out and along a road busy with traffic, the, the procession went to the front door, then to the rear door, and back to the front door of the same home, three times. This kept the children on the same property all evening.




The group entreating entry sang a litany to the accompaniment of a guitarist, and the “innkeepers” inside sang responsively.
Upon the third visit to the front door, the procession was told there was no room at the inn, but there was room at the stable, and the children bearing the Holy Family were allowed to enter.




Children quickly headed for the tables of toys. Food ran a distant second in this race.







Holding hands and talking with friends made time in the toy line go by more quickly.





I got a fresh-hot tamale. Before the processional started, I went into the house, where a team of cooks was preparing the food. One of them pulled a piping hot tamale out of the giant pot of them and put it on a plate for me.

For the Brits and others who may not be familiar with tamales, its a spicy meat mixture wrapped inside a cornmeal breading. The concoction is wrapped in a corn husk and put into a pot with its brethern and a little water, and steamed until done. It's yummy. Tamales, rice, beans, tortillas and similar fare are staples of the Mexican diet.

After consuming the goody and turning down offers of a second -- not because I didn't want one, but because I was afraid they might run short for all the people they had to serve -- I wandered back outside.

I watched the kids playing tag, weaving between pockets of socializing grownups. It struck me that I saw no children screaming in temper tantrums. I saw no exasperated parents screaming at children. On the contrary, children were frequently picked up and hugged. They are treated as precious.

For all our lip service about the importance of family in the U.S. culture, I don't think we always treat our children as precious. They're often viewed as baggage, or attachments to their parents. I've seen a lot of young-adult parents who see no reason to change their lifestyles just because they have children. So, the kids are left at home while dad's out wherever and mom is down at the karaoke bar, even if the parents aren't divorced.

Even when left with caring people, kids get the impression they're not that important to the people who matter the most to them.

By the time they're teenagers, some of these kids are psychopathic young people who are used to spending a lot of time alone, without adult supervision, and with minimal interaction with adults. These kids know they're "baggage." They spend time on the Internet learning ways to blow things up or shoot people. Or, they're out doing drugs. Doing whtever is antisocial.

An oversimplification, I know, and a lot of other factors are involved, but I think there's some truth there.

I hardly ever see the migrant workers out without their kids. Whether it's grocery shopping, a trip to the laundromat or an occasional meal in a restaurant, their children are with them.

I wonder.

Joy is; joy remembers

As I drove to church yesterday, the first ping hit. I was tooling up the highway, listening to some of those verboten Christmas carols on the radio.

It was as if I felt a hand on me, and heard a voice with my spirit, not with my ears.

"Trust in me," God/Holy Spirit said.

It was not a question, but more of a statement of fact, as in "You do trust in me." It was a request for affirmation. There was delight, satisfaction in it.

I have put my trust more fully in God, after a time of depression and defensiveness, when I felt I had to leap in and do. I've been learning to relax more, to let go and let God -- as corny as that sounds.

I said, "I trust you, Lord," and felt something lift off me.

My eyelids fluttered; I got goosebumps and shivered. It's a good thing there was no traffic around me. I think I barely stayed in my traffic lane.

Joy flooded me; it was joy meeting joy -- my joy meeting God's delight. I was overwhelmed with the Spirit.

Profound contentment stayed with me through the service. Toward the end of the service came portions of one of my favorite spirit songs, by Martha Butler. The second ping:

I looked up and I saw my lord a coming
I looked up and I saw my lord a coming down the road

Alleluia, he is coming
Alleluia, he is here

I looked and I saw my lord a coming
Mary's son, Mary's son.

Alleluia, he is coming
Alleluia, he is here


Tears began to stream from eyes as I sang this song, so full of longing, so full of joy. It acknowledges the now and not yet: past present and future, all wrapped into one. And pain. It is a song most often heard around Easter.

Jesus is coming (again? for the first time ?); he will shed tears for us; he will die for love of us (we know this, even as we see him walking down the road toward us for the very first time), but he will rise. This little baby, Mary's son.

This song has special meaning to me, I think, because it's one I heard frequently as I was first coming into Christ's love, which was as the season of Lent turned to Easter.

Yesterday, I sang with joy, with true joy that acknowledges pain, past and future. Joy remembers; joy takes its moments and lives, in the best and worst of circumstances.

Alleluia, he is coming.

I love you Lord, and I put my trust in you.

Alleluia, he is here. Mary's son.

Confessions of an Advent penitent

It was a short wagon ride

After being chastised by members of the blogging community for my wayward ways -- listening to Christmas music during Advent, and giving Christmas gifts, too -- I resolved to reform.

Saturday, I spent a quiet and thoughtful day at home, shampooing carpets. No music, no pet gifts, no ho-ho-hos.

I meditated upon the symbolism of of everyday life's dirt and grime being whooshed out of the carpets, leaving them fresh, while black, dirty water went down the drain. It's a process that takes willingness and work.

Saturday night, I fell off the Advent wagon.

I went to a party at the home of our associate priest, who lives by the river. We watched the Christmas boat parade, a line of brightly lit boats decorated in various secular and Christmas themes, to the sound of Christmas music: carols and popular Christmas music, both.

Oh, aye, I tried to tune out those Christmas carols, but I found myself humming them under my breath, anyway.

I'm not a boater, but there are few things more beautiful than the line of a sailboat, and one emphasized by lights of the season is particularly beautiful. Here are a few of the boats from the parade, docked by the Yacht Club, where I'm sure they wouldn't let me in on my own. I went there after all the festivities for a nightcap with my hosts, who are members.



Anyway, the timing was perfect -- just after the boat parade finished, the shuttle Discovery lifted off, and from the second floor of the building, just by the intercoastal waterway, we had a perfect view of it arcing over us into the sky, like a giant Roman candle. I didn't have the presence of mind to grab my camera, but here's NASA's photo of the liftoff. We watched this part on TV before running outside:



After all my dissing of Advent music, the service of Lessons and Carols at church Sunday morning was beautiful. Partly because little of the music actually came from the "Advent" section of the hymnal. We heard the likes of a selection from Handel's Messiah, some Bach and other classical music. The stellar voices of several of the performers, including Father J and his daughter, did honor to the music. We're also blessed with a concert violinist and the talent of our music director, who pulled off a beautiful one Sunday.

Sunday afternoon, my dog, Betsy, and I took part in our second Christmas parade of the year. Betsy loves parades -- not watching, but marching in them -- and she got to prance along my company's business float in two of the local Christmas parades this year. She's a performer! And she loves all the children who want to pet her.

A small-town Christmas parade is more Chamber of Commerce than true Christmas. I prefer the boat parade, where boat owners decorated for the pleasure of it.

Every year, the Christmas-parade committee comes up with a theme for the town parade, and every year, the businesses pretty much ignore it, coming up with themes they can accomplish with their vehicles and personnel, and get their businesses on display.

The churches try valiantly to get the Christmas message out, but they are displaying themselves, too.

I suspect Jesus would be somewhat amused.

***

Lord Jesus, I wait for you in the chill, predawn darkness of winter. I look to the East, and see a glow on the horizon, a sign. I long for you; I mourn your absence. O come now, and bring your light, your warmth, your presence among us. I wait, ready to offer you my adoration and praise.
-- saint pat

Drunken cats and other signs of Christmas

Faugh on all you Advent-music Puritans! I've been humming Christmas songs since Thanksgiving, and I'm not about to stop! In fact, I may rifle through my music and put on a Christmas CD.

If most Advent music wasn't so dreary, it would be easier to take. I can be reflective and thoughtful without it.

You see, I'm all in the Christmas mood this year, for the first time in a few years. I've worked my way out of the despondency I was in, and zest for life has been creeping back.

I had a little bump -- a mini-panic attack -- the night before I went on the cruise last month, wondering what on Earth might go wrong while I was away. The last time (on a mission trip, summer 2005) I was gone on a Saturday the 11th of the month and returning on the 13th of the month, my brother died on the 11th.

Last year, I finally got in the Christmas mood and started humming Christmas songs right around Epiphany. This year, I'm going all out. I'm climbing into the attic and pulling out the Christmas decorations that have been sitting there for four years.
I haven't had the heart to do much decorating the last few years.

Oh, I know, the grimy-gullies are still out there, and **stuff** is just waiting for its chance, but life happens, anyway. God has gotten me through the bad stuff past, and will be there for bad stuff future.

I went to the Evil Empire tonight (America's largest discount-retail chain) and bought presents for needy families, humming along with the canned Christmas music the whole time.

I got the cats a catnip toy for Christmas, but gave it to them as soon as I got home. In fact, Elvis smelled the catnip as soon as I laid the plastic bags down on the table, and started rooting through them, looking for the catnip.

Catnip! I smell it! Where is it?"













Oh, baby, that's some tripping 'nip.





He rolled around, hugging it for a while, then dropped the toy on the floor. He didn't notice. Jack took over, holding the little mousie close and nipping and biting at it in passion.





Jack: Yeah, mouse. You're all mine, now.



Betsy got a squeaky-Santa pull toy. I had to throw it endlessly for her, after she chewed on it and softened/slobbered it up for me a bit. She would pick it up, run back to me, play tug of war until I wrested it away and threw it across the room, starting the loop again.






A good time was had by all.

More good times to come.


From the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6:25-27, 34 (NIV)

Do Not Worry

2"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? ... Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I'm giving up worrying so much. Not enjoying the good things God gives us is a sin.

A smashing idea

I just had a terrific idea: Bishop Katharine can appoint MadPriest of "Of Course, I Could Be Wrong" fame to the post of Primatial Vicar, in charge of alternative oversight.

He's Anglican, so the Anglican Communion Network can't complain about that. And he's very orthodox. Just read today's entry on Advent versus Christmas music. And he's made noises recently about being in the job market.

Just think of what those Alpo-demanding bishops will be like, after six months of MadPriest messing with their minds!


They'll beg to come back.

Lamentations

Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori's response to San Joaquin's Convention, Dec. 4:


I lament the actions of the Bishop and Convention of the Diocese of San Joaquin to repudiate their membership in the Episcopal Church. While it is clear that this process is not yet complete, the fact that the Bishop and Convention have voted to remove the accession clause required by the Constitution and Canons of the Episcopal Church would seem to imply that there is no intent to terminate this process before it reaches its full conclusion. Our task as the Episcopal Church is God's mission of reconciling the world, and actions such as this distract and detract from that mission.


I deeply lament the pain, confusion, and suffering visited on loyal members of the Episcopal Church within the Diocese of San Joaquin, and want them to know of my prayers and the prayers of many, many others.


I continue to consult with others involved in responding to this extracanonical action.



The Most Reverend Katharine Jefferts Schori

Presiding Bishop and Primate


It's cold comfort, but good for Bishop Katharine -- she's not letting them get away with the word games. I lament the situation also, though.

What's the next move to be?

Saturday morning cat fights

It's Saturday morning, and both contenders have entered the ring at the Saintly household. On the left is Jack the Brat, the scrappy revisionist upstart. He's already chewing up the carpet in anticipation of the match (one of the reasons the Saintly household has no decent carpets). On the right is Elvis, the big fundagelical fatcat.


















They tangle. It's fast and flurious.











Jack the Brat uses his famous grab-and-bite technique.















Elvis returns with a mean right hook.







Jack retires to his corner, a look of innocence on his face, though he has strands of Elvis' fur in his mouth.


Elvis inquires, "Other cat? What other cat?"



Unlike people, they quit before anyone really gets hurt.

Thank you for this new morning

I woke up early this morning, around 5:30, before the alarm sounded. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and put on a pot of coffee.

Coffee cup in hand, I watched the sleeping earth wake to the rays of the sun.

Thank you, God, for this beautiful, frail island Earth. Thank you for its incredible beauty. Thank you for its incredible variety of life.

From my windows, I can watch some of that incredible variety of life, especially the birds native to Central Florida. Great and small herons, egrets (probably my favorites), sandhill cranes on occasion. Redheaded woodpeckers. Cardinals. Doves. Anhingas. Hawks. Some are just passing by; some have made homes in the little hammocks of trees on either side of my house, along with squirrels, moles, armadillos (hated by my neighbor, but I don't mind them), black snakes and garter snakes. Lots of lizards.

As I get older and realize more the frailty of life, stewardship of the Earth becomes a more and more important concern to me. This beauty, this life, must be protected. We must be the stewards -- the defenders -- of the Earth God intended us to be.

Thank you Lord, for appointing those defenders of your realm who lead us in conservation.



Most everyone knows the lyrics to "Morning Has Broken," (Bunessan), but some don't know the second half of Eleanor Farjeon's poem. It fit the morning perfectly, except there are no mountains in Central Florida. The clouds roll in and peak the tall-sand pines, instead.

This poem fits my mood exactly. The sun has risen and cut me loose from the shadows; it fills me with joy; it fills me with praise.

Cool the gray clouds roll
peaking the mountains,
Gull in her free flight
swooping the skies:
Praise for the mystery
misting the morning
Behind the shadow
waiting to shine.
I am the sunrise
warming the heavens,
Spilling my warm glow
over the earth:
Praise for the brightness
of this new morning
Filling my spirit
with Your great love.
Mine is a turning,
mine is a new life;
Mine is a journey
closer to You:
Praise for the sweet glimpse
caught in a moment,
Joy breathing deeply
dancing in flight.

***

Praise the mystery of each morning. Praise the mystery of God's love.

Thank you Lord, for the gift of life itself. Thank you for the special people around me. Thank you for renewing my zest for life.

Thank you for everything.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Hot off the press

YEEEOWSER! Schori gets tough!

May the ultracon bishops who voted for Schori in an attempt to create dissension stay up late with heartburn tonight, after reading this, hot off the press from Episcopal News Service:

San Joaquin bishop sent letter from Presiding Bishop

Monday, November 20, 2006

Bishop John-David Schofield of the Diocese of San Joaquin


[Episcopal News Service] Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori -- concerned by current affairs in the Fresno-based Diocese of San Joaquin, California -- has written to its bishop, the Rt. Rev. John-David Schofield. The diocese, which is scheduled to meet in convention December 1-2, includes an estimated 10,000 Episcopalians in some 48 congregations. The text of Jefferts Schori's November 20 letter follows.
November 20, 2006

The Rt. Rev. John-David Schofield
Diocese of San Joaquin
4159 E. Dakota Avenue
Fresno, California 93726

My dear brother:

I have seen reports of your letter to parishes in the Diocese of San Joaquin, which apparently urges delegates to your upcoming Diocesan Convention to take action to leave the Episcopal Church. I would ask you to confirm the accuracy of those reports. If true, you must be aware that such action would likely be seen as a violation of your ordination vows to "uphold the doctrine, discipline, and worship of Christ as this Church has received them." I must strongly urge you to consider the consequences of such action, not only for yourself but especially for all of the Episcopalians under your pastoral charge and care.

I certainly understand that you personally disagree with decisions by General Conventions over the past 30 and more years. You have, however, taken vows three times over that period to uphold the "doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Episcopal Church." If you now feel that you can no longer do so, the more honorable course would be to renounce your orders in this Church and seek a home elsewhere. Your public assertion that your duty is to violate those vows puts many, many people at hazard of profound spiritual violence. I urge you, as a pastor, to consider that hazard with the utmost gravity.

As you contemplate this action I would also remind you of the trust which you and I both hold for those who have come before and those who will come after us. None of us has received the property held by the Church today to use as we will. We have received it as stewards, for those who enjoy it today and those who will be blessed by the ministry its use will permit in the future. Our forebears did not build churches or give memorials with the intent that they be removed from the Episcopal Church. Nor did our forebears give liberally to fund endowments with the intent that they be consumed by litigation.

The Church will endure whatever decision you make in San Joaquin. The people who are its members, however, will suffer in the midst of this conflict, and probably suffer unnecessarily. Jesus calls us to take up our crosses daily, but not in the service of division and antagonism. He calls us to take up our crosses in his service of reconciling the world to God. Would that you might lead the people of San Joaquin toward decisions that build up the Body, that bring abundant life to those within and beyond our Church, that restore us to oneness.

I stand ready for conversation and reconciliation. May God bless your deliberation.

I remain

Your servant in Christ,

+Katharine

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate


It's going to be an interesting one to watch. I'm betting on Schori.

Things have been very quiet in the Diocese of Central Florida. There's been talk "nothing will happen" and talk that home churches could become the wave of the future for some of the faithful Episcopal remnant.

We're still in "wait and see" mode.

I remember our bishop backed down back in '97, after the presiding bishop came down hard on those bishops who tried to form a parallel church.

Now, he has some right-wing rabble rousers pushing him on, but Schori's coming down hard. She's what we need, I believe. Compassionate and tough.

In the meantime, Episcopal Voices members are planning to make a strong showing at the diocesan convention in January, with some resolutions of our own, like acceding to the canons and constitution of the church.

More wait and see time.

Shocking non-Christian stuff

In church, even

Yesterday, at the Church of Open Arms, we observed one of my favorite days of the year. The day borrows from the Hebrew Feast of Tabernacles, the celebration of the harvest.

A sukkah, a crude temporary shelter with a palm-fronded roof, provides the shelter, just as tents and crude structures provided the only shelter to the people who spent 40 years in the wilderness, searching for the Promised Land. They had to depend on God to cover them with His protection.

They kinda had nada.

A sukkah covered the altar yesterday, adding a touch of leafy green and rough 2-by-four.

After communion, the congregation brought canned goods (representing the fruits of our harvests) to go to the needy, and stored it under the sukkah.

And the needy are really needy -- Central Florida is filling not only with the well-to-do who have winter homes here; it's filling, as it does every winter, with the poor who want to escape the cold, and hope to find work and a new life in Central Florida.

Often, all they find is a hard time and nights colder than they expected.

So this combination of ancient and modern celebration serves a practical purpose. And it's just fun. Prayers and music have a spirited, Messianic flavor on this day, and there's even dancing.

Our Christian roots are in these ancient celebrations. Christianity didn't spring up from nowhere -- Jesus didn't float down to Earth on a cloud. He was born into a human, Jewish family. That was the appointed place and time for him to pitch his frail tent of a human body among us, and fulfill the prophecies.

Lucky for us, we are heirs of Abraham through adoption.

Let's sing, dance, clap our hands and make a joyous noise to the Lord.

****

Father J brought in a bedraggled little two-foot Christmas tree and sat it on the altar rail. Another "heathenish" custom, the Christmas tree.

As I looked at this Charlie Brown creation, I thought, "It's kind of like me."

I was raised in a nominally Christian household, but just nominally, in name only.

Like the pagan Christmas tree, and like so many of the first Christians, I've been brought into the church -- converted -- to serve Christ.

Another adoption.

The Christmas tree, a pagan symbol of the regeneration of life and the promise of spring to come, has become the evergreen symbol of life eternal: Jesus' birth, death and resurrection.

That little tree wasn't much to look at, but it was full of promise. Through Christ, it becomes beautiful.


Mazel tov, y'all!

I'm baaack

To any faithful readers - sorry to be away from my blogging post so long. It's the result of a combination of good news and bad news.

The good news is, I had a wonderful little vacation. I joined 80-some other people from my church on a three-day Caribbean cruise, and it was wonderful. I'd been looking forward to this for months, and it didn't disappoint, although I never cracked one of the paperbacks I brought with me.

No, I was too busy going to shows on board, going ashore at stops at Nassau and Coco Cay, eating (constantly), dancing, wave running, socializing, and having an all-around great time.

I had good enough time to even plug it: I was on Royal Caribbean's Sovereign of the Seas. It's a beautiful ship, and the service was terrific. The crew was friendly and attentive, the food was delicious and too plentiful for my waistline.

The tiny cabin on a lower deck in what I fondly called "steerage" was barely big enough to turn around in. The shower was designed for Lilliputians and the water pipes screamed horribly, but who cares.

It was a well-needed and well-appreciated vacation.

I couldn't take the digital camera, and haven't even dropped off film for developing, but when I get some photos, I'll post them.

The bad news is, my home computer's in the shop, getting worked on.

I haven't been able to get online at home for the past couple of weeks, since my renter moved out and took his internet connection with him (the nerve). I asked the cable company to hook me up to a cheaper version of the internet, and apparently, the card is bad -- I think from a power surge it got in a previous life.

So, here I am, blogging at the office after pushing for a big deadline for the big Thanksgiving edition, but hopefully, I'll be back in operation at home sooon.

Gotta go now.

Vive la Presiding Bishop

I couldn't attend the investiture in person, and wasn't even able to watch it Saturday on TV. But I'm watching now, via the Internet.

Wow.



Tears came to my eyes as I watched Katharine Jefferts Schori accept the water, wine, bread oil and primatial staff. This is a truly historic and remarkable time, and watching her, I believe Schori will be a terrific presiding bishop -- strong, calm, loving and firm. She was a reflection of Christ.

The message of inclusion, of diversity, of those things which had been thrown down being raised up, and reconciliation came through loud and clear.


I wonder if any other presiding bishops have worn lavender during their investiture?

Lord, grant Katharine the strength, wisdom and confidence to do your work. Let it be a blessing to her, and her a blessing to us all. Lead her to be gentle as a dove and wise as a serpent as she proclaims the Gospel, always, and leads your church. Help her in all things. Amen.

Shalom, y'all!

As promised - in time for Halloween

Terrifying tales of the truly spooky

We hear lots of ghost stories this time of year. It's easy to dismiss them -- unless they happen to you.

This story is true. I know, because it happened to me.

Volume 1: The ghost in the kitchen

This happened a good 20 years ago, in a house on the beachside.

The house was only 10 or 15 years old at the time -- a younger, modern house where the paranormal would not be expected. There had been no deaths or weird things associated with the house, as far as I know.

A gentleman friend of mine (I hate the word "boyfriend" for anyone over the age of 21, and this reserved gentleman was older than me) lived in the house.

Something about that house made me feel uncomfortable, but I didn't know why. Maybe it was the dark red wall-to-wall carpeting against the stark-white plaster walls in the sparsely furnished house. Maybe it was the opaque light feeding in from the green-tinged glass-block windows in the living room.

It was a nice house, but there was something a little oppressive about it.


One evening I was there, with my friend. We were watching television, when I got up to make some tea. I walked out of the sunken living room, across the hall and into the open kitchen, from which the living room was visible, if I looked sideways. I busied myself with kettle, water, tea and tea cups.

As I prepared to pour the tea, I became aware of my friend walking up behind me. I got a glimpse of his white shirt reflecting in the kitchen window. He said nothing, but stood very close behind me. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

This silent "game" was totally unlike him.

I felt hemmed in by his lurking behind me, sighing his breath on my neck and standing so close, as he watched my tea-making over my shoulder. I whipped around to tell him to stop it.

Nobody was there.

I quickly looked into the living room, and he sat in the recliner, feet up, watching television -- as he had been when I left him to make the tea.

No living soul was in that house but the two of us, yet I am still, to this day, certain there was another presence within inches of me that night. What its intentions were, I can't say. Maybe it intended to be friendly - humorous - and a little flirty, the impression I had when I thought it was my friend.

Maybe it intended to spook me.


My friend had to travel sometimes because of his job, and he would ask me to pick up his mail and water the potted plants on the patio while he was gone. I could have stayed at the house and walked to the beach every day.

I would stay at the house sometimes while he was there, but something was just not right. I refused to be in that house alone after that, even for an hour.

Something there might have liked to have been alone with me, though.

The spooky side of St. Augustine

We had a great time on our ghost tour of St. Augustine. Tim, our tour guide and native St. Augustinian, walked us down dark streets to some of the old haunted houses and buildings of St. Augustine, and told us their stories.

Tim, our tour guide

Tim's storytelling was quite good, including his story about the haunting of one of St. Augustine's old cracker homes by a lady Tim knew when he was a kid. After she was found dead with a broken neck from a fall from the stairs, new owners would stay for only a couple of weeks, then they would leave and put the house up for sale again, amid stories of objects flying across the room toward the steps, strange noises and things that go bump in the night. And the story of the exploding Bishop Verot.....

I had no sense of any "thing" being with us except at the first stop, the old Tolomato Cemetery. It's possible something joined us there and stayed with us through part of the walk -- or was it just my imagination?

I got some interesting lighting effects in the cemetery's vicinity:

Here, the light from Tim's lantern appears to be rising and turning into the cemetery.







Strange lights















Lights from a horse-drawn buggy do odd things in this photo.






The only lame part of the evening was the last stop, at the Spanish Military Hospital. In use for years, dating back to the time of the Spanish occupation of St. Augustine, the hospital was said to have been the site of death for many soldiers. Medical practices were pretty barbaric in those days, and amputations were common.

Unfortunately, it had been turned into just another "Halloween haunted house," with painted actors, rubber props, noisy sound effects and pulsing lights. No self-respecting spooks would have put in an appearance through all that, but would have lain low until all the noise and confusion was gone, then regained their home.

Maybe it was better it was loud and obnoxious.

It's my party

and I don't wanna cry! I'm celebrating my birthday this week. Maybe I'm another year older and deeper in debt, but my friends and spiritual family members are treating me well.

I had birthday dinner at Ken and Michelle's on the actual date, then they, Bob and Linda and Evelyn all took me downtown in our little burg last night for a wine-tasting festival, the proceeds of which go to scholarships for women. I wasn't allowed to pay for my ticket, but I sampled more wines than I can remember, and nibbled catered food from just about all the wine stations set up around the downtown.

Afterward, we went to a downtown drinkery (I was all drunk out by this time, and ordered only water) and heard some really good music.

Now, we're heading up to St. Augustine for dinner and a tour of some of its buildings on the "Ghost Walk." Sounds like fun.

I don't expect to run into any real spooks. I have a ghost story or two to tell, though. Maybe I'll get set them down here before Halloween.

Fall falls

Fall is just about my favorite time of year, in heavy competition with spring. One reason I chose to live in Central Florida instead of South Florida is here, we get a taste of the change of seasons.

October brings bright, sunny days and clear, starlit nights. As dying leaves depart from trees, the puffs of cool air on which they drift invigorate body and soul.

Fall is about life and death - even life despite death.

It's children, bursting with life and the promise of the future, who don Halloween costumes and symbolically take a poke in Death's eye.

"We're not scared of you," they say to death, goblins, ghouls and all the unholy horde. "Take a hike."

And so they should say, for we triumph over death through the life, death, love and work of Christ, who told us, "Do not fear; only believe."

It's fitting that as growing-time comes to an end, fields fall fallow, and lush-green trees turn orange, scarlet and golden, October is filled with celebrations of life - Halloween, fall festivals, arts festivals, music festivals.

In November, when many trees are nothing more than bare skeletons reaching toward heaven, and days are chill, we celebrate Thanksgiving, with thanks to God for grace that carries us through times of lack, both physically and spiritually.

Even in the darkest nights, we can celebrate the joy that will come in the morning.

In November, we begin to prepare for the advent of Christ, who brings the promise of life and the assurance of God's love for each of us.

Christmas is the fulfillment of that promise, and a celebration of the mystery: God is here, and he is yet to come.

If you're in Central Florida, and you see a zaftig, middle-aged woman kicking through a pile of leaves with abandon, carving a pumpkin, or whooping as she walks her dog through the brisk morning air, it might be me. Joy falls unexpectedly.

Happy feast day to you, St. Luke!

St. Luke is the patron saint of those in the healing ministries. He was thought to be Greek, possibly trained in medicine as a slave in his youth. He was a traveling companion to Paul.

James Keifer said:

"In Luke's account of the Gospel, we find an emphasis on the human love of Christ, on His compassion for sinners and for suffering and unhappy persons, for outcasts such as the Samaritans, tax collectors, lepers, shepherds (not a respected profession), and for the poor. The role of women in Christ's ministry is more emphasized in Luke than in the other Gospel writings."

Today's reading from the Gospel of Luke confirms Jesus' compassionate nature, and describes one of the miracles Jesus performed.

If you have any "natural" explanations to explain away the miracles, keep them to yourself. Jesus certainly performed them, and still does -- from a different place.

Luke 9:1-17:
He called the Twelve together and gave them power and authority over all devils and to cure diseases, and he sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal. He said to them, "Take nothing for the journey: neither staff, nor haversack, nor bread, nor money; and do not have a spare tunic. Whatever house you enter, stay there; and when you leavelet your departure be from there. As for those who do not welcome you, when you leave their town shake the dust from your feet as evidence against them."
So they set out and went from village to village proclaiming the good news and healing everywhere. Meanwhile Herod the tetrarch had heard about all that was going on; and he was puzzled, because some people were saying that John had risen from the dead, others that Elijah had reappeared, still others that one of the ancient prophets had come back to life. But Herod said, "John? I beheaded him. So who is this I hear such reports about?" And he was anxious to see him.
On their return the apostles gave him an account of all they had done. Then he took them with him and withdrew towards
a town called Bethsaida where they could be by themselves. But the crowds got to know and they went after him. He made them welcome and talked to them about the kingdom of God; and he cured those who were in need of healing. It was late afternoon when the Twelve came up to him and said, "Send the people away, and they can go to the villages and farms roundabout to find lodging and food; for we are in a lonely place here." He replied, "Give them something
to eat yourselves." But they said, "We have no more than five loaves and two fish, unless we are to go ourselves and buy food
for all these people." For there were about five thousand men. But he said to his disciples, "Get them to sit down in parties of
about fifty." They did so and made them all sit down. Then he took the five loaves and the two fish, raised his eyes to heaven, and said the blessing over them; then he broke them and handed them to his disciples to distribute among the crowd. They all ate as much as they wanted, and when the scraps left over were collected they filled twelve baskets.

Thank you St. Luke, for your gifts as a physician/healer and as a writer and chronicler of Jesus' ministry on Earth. Thank you for these glimpses of a gracious and compassionate human and God, who esteemed women, who helped sinners and healed the sick, and who brought hope into the world. We honor your work and ministry, St. Luke.

SAINTLY NEWS SPECIAL EDITION

Flat Earth group to join CANA

ANCHORAGE (Saintly News Service) - The Flat Earth Society of Anchorage announced today it has petitioned to join the Convocation of Anglicans in North America (CANA), an arm of the Church of Nigeria in the U.S. CANA represents itself as a "real" Anglican presence in North America, in contrast to the newfangled and liberal "revisionist" Episcopal Church.

The news took many by surprise.

George B. Zablonski, leader of the Flat Earth group, explained, "We share so many things in common, like a literal interpretation of the Bible and a refusal to look at so-called evidence. Our credo is, 'Why do we say the Earth is flat, when the vast majority says otherwise? Because we know the truth.' Just so.

"In a like manner," he continued, "CANA and its affiliated groups, such as the Anglican American Council and the Anglican Communion Network, know the truth about God's will, gays, interpretation of scripture and who gets to go to heaven. They know the truth. It's so exciting to have allies."

Zablonski is looking forward to a working relationship with CANA, he indicated.

"The Flat Earth Society has lacked an enforcement arm ever since the Inquisition died out, and people began believing all sorts of scientific rubbish. They not only believe the Earth is shaped like an orange instead of a pancake, they believe the Earth revolves around the sun, instead of vice versa. It's crazy stuff. With this new affiliation, I think we'll be able to count on a little stoning where it will help people see things the right way."

CANA and its affiliates are prepared to greet the Flat Earthers.

The Rev. Canon Rector Bishop Marty Minns of Truro, Falls-Church-Nigeria said, "Wow. This is a spectacularly wonderful development. I know it will be a blessing to the missionary efforts of the Church of Nigeria and CANA. We and our Flat-Earth brethren share so much in common. We'll be able to support each other's efforts."

Archbishop Peter Akinola of the Church of Nigeria said, "My people in my churches were delighted that I accepted this petition, and will acclaim it greatly when I ratify the petition tomorrow. They will fall down on their knees and thank God for me and my wisdom. I think I must go now and write an article for my newsletter, with quotes from my bishops on how great they find me."

Bishop Robert Duncan of the (for now) Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh and moderator of the Network said, "I greet the dawning of this new day with joy. We have longed for an ally in our fight against progressive thinking. I'm right in the middle of drafting a revision to the Network Confession of Faith, adding a paragraph affirming the flatness of the Earth. It was remiss of us not to have included this paragraph from the get-go."

He added, "I've been talking it over with the Flat Earthers, and confiscating all the Bibles from our congregations, as we've recently done, won't do the trick alone. People might not be able to form their own opinion about Scripture from reading the Bible themselves -- instead of taking our word for what it means -- but they can still read books, magazines, and Internet articles. They will still be contaminated by 'progressive' thinking. No, what we need to do is phase out reading.

"We'll start home-schooling all our children, and pull them out as soon as they learn to put an 'X' for their signature on the Confession of Faith. They don't need schooling past the first grade -- it's plain dangerous to them. Instead, they can just listen to their priest in church and to the Flat Earthers outside of church. They will tell the people what they need to know, how to think and even how to vote. It'll be a joyful new day."

Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church Frank Griswold was unavailable for comment, but an unidentified aide who answered the phone said, "Oh, those CANA and Network people? We always figured they were Flat Earthers, anyway."

For more information on the Flat Earth Society, go here.