Preventing deadly cow emissions

Like many officials, Florida Gov. Charlie Crist is out to help protect the environment by putting the brakes to auto emissions.

According to the BBC television new report I saw the other night, it looks like he's barking up the wrong tree ... er ... or, chewing the wrong cud.

No, the BBC says, methane (in Brit talk, pronounced MEE-thane), coming from emission points at both the front and back ends of bovines, is responsible for an enormous amount of global air pollution/global warming.







Not even cattle can stand the stench.


British scientists are hard at work on a solution to this problem. In hi-tech laboratories, they are sequestering test cows in air-tight quarters, and trying different feeds on them. Then, dressed in hazmat-white suits, technicians go in and measure bovine methane output, to determine which feed produces the lowest emission rate.

What a job to list on a resumé!

I wonder if they have tried dosing the cows with Beano.

Let's spice it up
We're really hip, uh-huh

I'm square. I'm so square, I don't even know what the current vernacular for "square" is.

I'm so square, my blog is rated "G." sigh

I'm so square, I just found out about this blog rating "thang" over at Padre Mickey's. Of course, Padre Mickey is rated a hip NC-17.

Here's my rating:

Mingle² - Free Online Dating

Mingle2 disliked only the word "kill" (2x) and "death" (1x).

Maybe, as the song says, "It's hip to be square."

Mac who?

I've found in the calendar another female saint I knew nothing about. We will celebrate Macrina's feast day July 19. Note the "experts" thought she couldn't be the "Teacher" and theologian her brother Gregory described, because she was a woman.


I shamelessly cribbed this bio off this Web site.

Gregory's Life of Macrina can be found here.

About St. Macrina



St. Macrina (ca. 330- 380) was the eldest child in a family of saints. Her grandparents (one of whom was also named Macrina, so our patron is more precisely called St. Macrina the Younger) were martyrs. Her parents are also recognized as saints. They saw to it that she was very well educated. Macrina in turn became the teacher of her younger brothers Basil, later bishop of Caesarea, now Kayseri in Turkey, and Gregory, later bishop of the nearby small city of Nyssa. These brothers themselves became two of the greatest teachers in the Universal Church.

There is every reason to believe—based on their own testimony—that if Macrina had not attended to their education, and later, their spiritual growth, we would not know them today.

There is a wonderful little speech in Gregory’s life of his sister in which Macrina rebukes Basil, who has just returned from a brilliant university career in Athens, and warns him not to be so uppity — just the sort of thing it is easy to imagine a big sister saying to a little brother gotten too big for his britches!

She was equally firm in guiding her parents’ spiritual lives, and seems to have been as wise in practical management as she was in spiritual direction. Like another great teacher-saint much nearer our time, St. Therese of Lisieux, Macrina knew what she wanted, or more to the point what God wanted for her, and how to get it.

She was a consecrated widow (though therein lies a tale) and eventually the head of a double monastery of women and men established under St. Basil’s auspices. Although her teaching survives only in the words of her brother Gregory, and indirectly in the influence she had on him and Basil (perhaps also on their friend Gregory of Nazianzus), St. Macrina certainly deserves a place among the Fathers and Mothers of the Church.

An English translation of the charming Life of Macrina by her younger brother St. Gregory of Nyssa, in the form of a letter to a mutual friend, is available online. There is also a translation of the dialogue she had with Gregory on her deathbed On the Soul and Resurrection, described by him in the Life. Macrina is the person titled The Teacher in this dialogue, though many scholars have tried to deny this, on the assumption that no woman could be such a theologian. (If you follow the link to the dialogue, be aware that the “Argument” is the editor’s summary; scroll down to the title to begin the dialogue itself.)

As a teacher of several of the greatest of the Church Fathers; as a pioneer of women's independent religious life; as a loving sister and daughter; as a saint who nurtured others to sanctity; as a clear-minded practical worker for the poor and sick; as a woman whose power, intellectual ability, and sacred calling has sometimes been challenged or even denied altogether; and as a woman unafraid to preach, govern, and act publicly as a model for others, St. Macrina is a fitting patron saint for a congregation in Grinnell.

The feast of St. Macrina is July 19th. This is the troparion (a special short hymn of praise sung in the liturgy) for her feast:

The image of God was faithfully preserved in you, O Mother, for you took up the Cross and followed Christ. By your actions you taught us to look beyond the flesh, for it passes, but rather to be concerned about the soul that is immortal. Therefore, O Holy Macrina, you now rejoice with the angels.

From whence does my help come?

Psalm 121
Song of Ascents
I lift up my eyes to the mountains; where is my help to come from?
My help comes from Yahweh who made heaven and earth. May he save
your foot from stumbling; may he, your guardian, not fall asleep!
You see�he neither sleeps nor slumbers, the guardian of Israel.
Yahweh is your guardian, your shade, Yahweh, at your right hand.
By day the sun will not strike you, nor the moon by night. Yahweh
guards you from all harm Yahweh guards your life, Yahweh guards
your comings and goings, henceforth and for ever.

***

Where are you? I look to the hills, and find only slate and rubble.

Where are you? I look to the skies; I look for you in the patterns of the clouds. There is nothing but the soughing of the wind.

Where are you? I seek you in the stillness of an empty chapel, tracing stained-glass images with my finger, and find only silence.

Where are you? I look in my heart, and find only a well of loneliness.

Where are you?

Unhappy Cassandra

Wow. I went back into the archives, and stumbled upon this rant from February 2004. I was right (sigh) about pretty much everything that would unfold, except maybe the ABC's good sense. Well, maybe he will redeem himself.

This was when I'd just left my old AAC aka Network parish:

Lying liberal liar with my load of liberal lies


Now that I've calmed down, I can write the posting with this title that I started to write right away, but without writing it in the anger that I had at the time of the fight between Father Dearest and me.

To those who are curious about the article that precipitated the fight, it's called "Contending with Anglican Realignment" by the Rev. Canon Mark Harris in The Witness Magazine.


You should be able to find the article at:

http://www.thewitness.org/agw/harris012804.html

or just go to "thewitness.org" and look for the article.

It's written by a theologian in the Episcopal Church. Harris expressed a lot of thoughts I've had about the AAC, but with a better background in theology and philosophy on which to draw than I have at the moment. Agreement with him is evidence that I have moved from a rather conservative to a more liberal position. I guess that makes me a lying liberal liar, to paraphrase Al Franken.

I wrote this in an e-mail to a friend today, trying to explain my antipathy toward the AAC, which I can view only as repressive and tending towards fascism:

"The Gene Robinson issue is only a small part of
the picture, as far as I'm concerned. I don't want to
be taken or dragged out of the Episcopal Church into
some other "province," or to have authority over it
given to foreign primates who have a lot of cultural
differences [including polygamy, slavery, child labor
exploitation and stoning]. I don't think the AAC bishops
involved in this realize how dangerous giving away
this power is. They think they'll really be controlling
things behind the scenes and have the mantle handed
to them after they've purged and purified the church.
Nor do I want to go to some Calvinistic, repressive
church where you can have only one interpretation
of scripture (theirs, fundamentalist) or you're not a
Christian. I don't want to have to sign an AAC
loyalty oath*[I see this coming. The requirements for
attending the AAC convention and the Chapman
memo and other documents clearly set the tone for this.
It won't be the first time in the history of the church
that something like this has happened.]
to be allowed to participate in the church --
that to me is blasphemy. My loyalty is to God and
I'm happy to say the Nicene or Apostle's creed, but
not sign an AAC oath. This kind of stuff is what I see
coming in the diocese if the tide is not turned.
Everyone who went to the AAC meetings/conventions
had to sign on and affirm their stance.
That's my diatribe for the day! Sorry to get on a
soap box, but I think this is a dangerous situation and
the AAC doesn't want us to even know what's going on."

Some of the AAC bishops, including the one in this diocese,
have been engaged in talks with these foreign, ultraconservative
bishops: July 15, 2003, Bishop Howe, among other AAC
affiliated bishops, signed a letter to "Concerned Primates"
to "address the crisis of Faith and Order
that is increasingly unfolding among us... In the face of these
looming departures from evangelical truth and catholic order,
and in line with our commitment to oppose all such
innovations in every Godly way, we do hereby affirm the
moral and spiritual authority of you, the 'Concerned Primates'
of the Anglican Communion, and do join in commitment with
you to address the situation under your leadership.
We desire to act in concert with you, and are ready to
take counsel from you. We pledge solidarity with you in
sharing common faith and practice within an Anglicanism
that is submitted to her sovereign Lord, true to his holy
Word, and at one with the catholic Church. We stand ready,
in concert with you, to commit to common responses to the
deteriorating situation within the Episcopal Church and
elsewhere.."


I don't respect bishops who are so willing to hand their flocks over to others. I don't want to be subjected to these primates' "moral and spiritual authority," thank you very much. They need to work on setting their own houses in order.

I feel sure the Archbishop of Canterbury wouldn't go along with such a plan. It would be lighting the fuse to a powder keg. But pushing the agenda serves to polarize, divide and cause hostilities.

The AAC is even willing to have the Archbishop become the pope of the Anglican Communion, or at least over the Episcopal Church part of the communion, with absolute authority. They think it will be to their advantage. I don't think it would; the ABC is nowhere as conservative as they want to force him to be and again, I think he has better sense than to go along with such an attempt.

It seems to me that the AAC is looking for any means possible to break the back of the Episcopal Church, then move in for the kill. These men seem to have a brew of fundamentalist theology, anger and suspicion toward anything different -- like ordained women or Gene Robinson -- lust for power and contempt for their flocks, from whom they want to conceal so many of their actions, with closed, secret meetings, secret memos and stealthy plans.

Father Dearest accused me of trying to "discredit" the Network. I don't think I have
to; they do it themselves as soon as the light is shined on their activities.

UPDATE 6/22/07 - I'm much more familiar with Mark Harris of Preludium fame now! (grin) Archbishop Peter Akinola is, of course, much better known to readers now. When I posted this, many in the Voices group weren't familiar with him. Bishop Howe seems to have pulled back from his stance, but the diocesan board and standing committee members still want to do in TEC and join CANA or AMiA, not necessarily in that order.

Five reasons Jesus rocks

Hedwyg over at Practicing Intentional Gratitude tagged me with this meme.

1. Those tagged will share 5 Things They Dig About Jesus.
2. Those tagged will tag 5 people.
3. Those tagged will leave a link to their meme in the comments section of this post so everyone can keep track of what's being posted.

Five things I dig about Jesus:

1. His ministry was to the poor and hurting. Jesus was respectful toward women, and treated them with consideration. His actions almost always involved compassion, though he did get cranky with his dunder-headed disciples at times, but that he put up with them gives me hope.

2. He's been there when I've needed him, which is always, though I havent' always been aware of it. I've experienced his protection, his love, his promise, his comforting touch. It's the reason I'm still here.

3. Jesus broke us free from the letter of the law, and put us under the spirit of the law, through grace, with love.

4. This has come up in some of my meditations: Jesus was God who literally pitched his tent among us, who came to dwell with us. Can you imagine voluntarily going to a third-world slum, living in a filthy, disease-infected shack and dedicating your life for people who would spit on you and kill you? That's a smaller scale of what he did. God and human.

5. He was and is radical in a way we don't really get most of the time. See No. 1 for part of it, but it's much more than that. We keep trying to tame him into something more comfortable, but he's a planet changer!

First off, I tagged Padre Mickey, since he always tags me! I'll come back later and tag some more. Got to get back to work now.

Here are more tags. Sorry I didn't get back to it until today - I went to the movies last night! More on that later.

Anyway, here are additional tags:

I girded my loins, took a deep breath, and climbed up Mount Olympus, where intellectual lightweights like me dare not tread. Yes, I risked lightning bolts and tsunamis, and tagged Mark Harris!

I also nabbed Clumber, who has some terrifically funny stuff posted at his blog, Episcopal crucifer and standard-bearer extraordinaire Lisa at My Manner of Life, Juanuchis at Juanuchis' Way and PJ at PJ's Pointless Blog. I was gonna get Mimi at Wounded Bird also, but she's gone to the beach.

Musings on Galatians

I didn't go to church today, because I'm having car trouble and don't want to risk going cross-county. I'm getting it into the shop first thing tomorrow morning; hopefully my poor chariot will make it into town.

So, instead of going to my usual service this morning, I watched a Catholic service on television. My ears perked up at the second reading:

Galatians 2:15-21

We ourselves are Jews by birth and not Gentile sinners; yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law. But if, in our effort to be justified in Christ, we ourselves have been found to be sinners, is Christ then a servant of sin? Certainly not! But if I build up again the very things that I once tore down, then I demonstrate that I am a transgressor. For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.

All of Americans would have been held in contempt by most first-century Jews and Christians. We're pretty much a mongrel bunch of gentiles, and the Jews are hardly better, with strains of European, Asian and other Middle-Eastern blood mixed in. Sinners, all.

The Archbishop of Nigeria and his cohorts would not fare any better. Perhaps Peter Abuja should think about this.

For, we "do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing."

So if we think we're to be elevated by the purity of our blood, our self-glorifying works and strutting about on the streets proclaiming our piety, our social status, our sexual orientation or any of those other things that shall pass away, we nullify Christ.

If we live the best life we can, holding onto the grace of God and the love of Christ, we are justified. If we live through the law, and tear down everything not of the law, then even as we proclaims ourselves protectors of the faith, we make Christ meaningless.

Remember, Satan is a legalist.

The 'random facts' meme

Padre Mickey is at it again: spreading memes. He's a carrier!

So this one's in eights. Padre Mickey sez I have to follow the rules, which are:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.

3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.

4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.

5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.


I don't know if there are eight random facts or habits about me that would actually be interesting, but here goes:

1. I can cuss worse than a sailor.

2. I have seen a UFO at least once, possibly twice. Don't know if they were extra-terrestrial, just "unidentified."

The first time was when I was just a kid, and I'm guessing what I saw was some new type of military aircraft with which I was unfamiliar -- we lived naval air stations. Whatever it was, it scared me, flying low, coming toward me one evening. I was only eight or nine.

The second time, I was an adult, here in Florida, and driving home from work one evening. It was still light outside. I had a clear, unobstructed view of the sky to the north of me. I saw something that looked like a huge silver disk arc across the sky very fast, then curve down maybe 20 miles to the north of me. I lost sight of it behind a line of trees near me.

Without knowing the object's size, it was difficult to determine its distance, but on the news that night was a story about numerous UFO reports around a town 20 miles to the north. I don't know what the disk was. It looked like no aircraft I've ever seen before, and it was too perfectly shaped and polished looking to have been a meteorite. It's trajectory didn't suggest that, either. It looked huge.

3. Speaking of stuff in the skies, I have a private pilot's license. I don't fly any more -- can't afford it -- but I'm proud of the fact I got it.

4. I like to chew on the bits of unpopped left popcorn in the bottom of the microwave bag. The dentist said this contributed to a missing filling and broken tooth. Bummer.

HELP I'M RUNNING OUT OF IDEAS

5. I have a bit of a thing for Johnny Depp. Maybe it's time for another Pirates saga.

6. I love a weekend where I can just lay around the house, read and watch movies.

7. More on sightings -- I've seen green lightning -- cool!

8. When I was younger, I almost applied for law school. Legal stuff still interests me. On the other hand, I'm getting an angel collection, between things I've bought, and gifts of ceramic and arts-and-crafty angels. I like them.

Whew!

Okay, now for the tagging:

1. Brother Causticus at titusoneten

2. Share Cropper of 23 Acres of Black Dirt

3. Pseudopiskie of Mom Said Nobody Cares.

4. Caminante (but I can't post it on her blog -- no comment section.)

5. Ann of What the Tide Brings in

6. Doxy of Wormwood's Doxy

7. Hedwyg of Practicing Intentional Gratitude

8. MadPriest (Of Course, He Could Be Wrong)


I don't care if someone else beat me to it! Nyah, nyah, you're tagged! Don't blame me, blame Padre Mickey. Anybody I missed, sorry. Anybody who'd like to play but doesn't have a blog, I'll post it for you!

Every cat's dream

Who, me? Pick up a cross?

Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels." – Mark 8:34-38

These are some of the toughest words in the New Testament.
I want to follow Jesus, but "taking up my cross" to follow him brings images of that last journey Jesus made through Jerusalem, bowed under the weight of the cross on which he would die, crucified.
Somehow, the idea isn't too appealing.
Still, the Apostles lived short, hard lives, followed by martyrdom (most of them) or exile (John). It was this refusal to budge from their witness of who Jesus was and is, even under pain of death, that convinced me of the reality of their accounts.
Is Christ calling on us to suffer crucifixion for him?
While martyrs exist even in this day, we can take up our crosses and follow Jesus in other ways. Dedicated pastors sacrifice most of their personal lives, recreational time and probably 70 hours a week in service to Christ. Medical missionaries risk disease, unfriendly local officials, hardship living conditions and any personal life at all to bring life-giving services to others.
But the sacrifice Christ demands of us each day is the hardest one to make. That sacrifice is of ego, pride, materialism, time, spiritual gifts: ourselves, every day. In some ways, that's harder to attain than martyrdom, a one-time event.
Sacrificing or subordinating all my wants and concerns to the service of Christ, every day, is something at which I fail much more than I succeed.
But, what good is it to have the world, to have things the way I, in my petty ego, want them, if in the end, I lose everything?
It is only his mercy, his grace, that saves me, for I'll never attain that kind of piety.
Because I do love him so much, each day I will strive to surrender more of myself to Christ's will, to proclaiming the Gospel.
I don't want him to be ashamed of me, the one who professes to be his follower.

Dear Lord, help me to become more like you each day. Help me put away my vanities and petty concerns so I can be a better witness to you. Help me give myself to you. Amen.

The voice from the crypt

I know. Long time no post.

I've been working at my new part-time job, so I'm working 60 hours a week. I've been sick with some type of allergy-bronchitis-whatever stuff for almost two weeks, and thought I was gonna, and woulda preferred to pass away quietly, but I'm starting to feel better.

I worked a few hours Saturday at the new job, and took Betsy into the nearly-deserted building with me.

She was impressed only with the break room.




"Look at the giant-sized treat machines," Betsy said, in awe and wonder.

Ah, well. My bank account was happy for the first time in many months today. Got two paychecks in, and the new job pays pretty decent. I even got paid for a half-day Monday (Memorial Day) that I didn't work at that job.

Sometimes I'd just like a little tenderness, though. Someone to say "I'll get you some cough syrup" in the middle of the night, or, "I'll make you a cup of tea. Are you feeling any better?"

It's the fate of a lone woman.

Nobody to even feel sorry for me but me. Phhhbbbbttttt ah, well.

I have some thoughts about the state of the Anglican Communion, but they'll have to wait until tomorrow. Or, rather, later today. I'd better go to bed.

Falwell, personality, politics and religion

In response to Jerry Falwell's death, I've been reflecting on personality, politics and power, especially as it relates to the church.

I'm going to go back years, to my life as a young adult, living in Virginia. Those were Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson and Jim and Tammy ruled the religious airwaves.

Back then, I was not a particularly religious person. I wasn't really a Christian, though I had some vague notion there was a God, a Creator.

I wanted nothing to do with religion, as represented by these demagogues -- and let me emphasize, they were big. They and their like-minded minions seemed to define communal religion, which was mean, grasping, greedy, small-minded and selfishly ego-centric.

I wanted nothing to do with it.

I remember the Bakers taking away their toll-free number for prayer, and leaving one only for people to call in donations for their many projects, like mansions, more diamonds for Tammy, etc. People calling in for prayer concerns were just being whiny and taking up too much valuable time.

Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell ... well. White (straight) male supremacy. Everybody do as they say. They're in control.

Falwell attacked women, gays, Jews, anyone not ultraconservative. Even Teletubbies, for Heaven's sake.

His legacy is one of prejudice, and of playing to prejudices for political gain; of combining church and politics for personal power and glory.

May God have mercy on him.

I believe God does have mercy, and Falwell is healed, and literally, sees the light now.

Thank God I'm not a member of his or Robertson's church. I'm an Episcopalian, right? We believe in welcoming all to the table. Women aren't flamboyant armpieces or relegated to silent kitchen duty, but have a place in the church. We believe in the via media, and using reason.

Except the Falwellians have made a pretty good assault on the Diocese of Central Florida, and they rule with impunity in other places. Iker, Duncan et al would rather subject us to ecclesiastical fascists like Akinola than recognize a female presiding bishop. They call for foreign interference in our national church, overturning the whole tradition of the church they claim to uphold, to get their way. For power.
Like Falwell, they play on and incite prejudices. They used one diocese having a openly gay bishop, chosen by the people of his diocese, in the same process that made them bishops, to start this whole comtemptible mess.

No more than I would have been a member of Falwell's or Robinson's church do I want to be a member of their version of the Episcopal Church.

I've said a lot on this matter. For a more succinct view, go to Padre Mickey's Dance Party: This Is All I'll Say On The Subject.

Motherhood, Revelation and miscellany

I was kind of glad Mother's Day wasn't hyped like a commercial event at church today. The focus was on Rogation Day and the usual readings for the day.

Before church, I called my mother at the nursing home to wish her happy Mother's Day. She was pretty incoherent, and kept repeating "Oh, God," in alarm as though something must be wrong. I'm not sure if she understood I was wishing her happy Mother's Day. She sounded like she might be in some pain, too. She subsided into silence after a minute or so.

It's hard to tell what's physically wrong, what's Alzheimer's, and what's deafness with her.

I spoke to the nurse afterward. She said Mom had fallen asleep. I asked the nurse about pain, and she indicated she expected Mom would never heal completely from the broken hip, and would have some discomfort. The nurse said Mom does have some more lucid moments, usually when she first wakes up. I'll call earlier next time, and try to catch her then. I always call in the morning, but sometimes my mother is asleep or out of range of the phone, or not lucid -- the case the last few times I've talked to her.

Mom's a time zone behind me, so that's about time I'm getting to work during the week.

I went into the church service with that on my mind.

As we were leaving after the church service, the clergy was handing out long-stemmed geraniums. As I got near the exit, the deacon, who was handing them out at one door, said loudly, "They're only for mothers."

I didn't take one -- hadn't planned to, but as I started down the walk, I reconsidered, and went back inside, and took one from Father M., who was chipperly handing them out without vetting the female's maternal status.


I don't have any children, but I am a mother.

I do have a baby, and if there's anything to this Christian stuff, I will see him again.

You see, I got pregnant during my brief, young-and-foolish marriage. By the time I was certain I was pregnant, I miscarried. Later, I said maybe it was for the best, but I really wanted that baby I call "him" because something made me sure it was a boy, though I was only two months or so pregnant when I lost him.

I did the second reading today, from Revelation 21-22, and it included these words:
"Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city. On either side of the river is the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. Nothing accursed will be found there any more. But the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him; they will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And there will be no more night; they need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever."

The word of the Lord!

John tried to describe the undescribeable, and succeeds to some degree. We don't have the mind to fully appreciate the Kingdom of God, anyway. But images of healing and life, flowing like a river, come through pretty clearly.

And if the promises are true, I shall look upon the face of God, and He shall be my light. And in that light, I shall see all those whom I love, but who live no more, and they shall be healed and restored and whole. That includes my baby.

If it isn't true, I don't care a fig about this eternal life stuff.

But I believe it is true, in some wonderful and mysterious way that's beyond my comprehension. So I went back and claimed a pink-and-white carnation, and have formulated into clearer thought and word, feelings that have been rattling in the back of my brain for years.

Thanks be to God.

Out of circulation

The reason I haven't been writing a lot or posting on your sites much lately isn't 'cause I don't love you wild and loony religious-zealot-malcontent bunch of fellow bloggers. I started working part-time again, so I'm putting in some long hours during the week, but pretty much have my weekends free. Yazzoo!

Last year, when I did cooking demos part-time, it was long, on-your-feet-all-day weekend hours and I never had a day off. So we'll see how this goes. I'm working at a little junior college in the evenings, and the pay is pretty decent.

Weather gone wild

I put this ("Weather gone wild") in as a headline for a newspaper story I wrote last week, and the editor let it stand. It has been wild and weird in Florida.

I had gone on line a few days earlier, pulled up a satellite image to check the wildfires blooming all over South Georgia and pretty much the whole state of Florida. At first, I thought I'd pulled up an old satellite pic from last year by mistake, because there sat a tropical disturbance, with all the classic counterclockwise whirling shape of a tropical storm, off the southern coast of Georgia.

But no. It was nothing left over from last year. While we were on red alert for fires inland, a tropical-storm watch spread over the Atlantic coastal waters.

Some days, the smoke hung heavy like a pea-soup fog from fires burning to the north of us, to the east of us, to the west of us -- didn't much matter from whence the wind blew -- there was a fire, whose smoke the winds carried our way.

Luckily, there haven't been any wildfires near me, so far.

We got just enough rain from subtropical storm Andrea to dampen the brush's enthusiasm for flame just a bit, and clear the air some, but we're still in a critical fire-threat situation.

The sky was hazy as I headed home from church and a stop at the grocery store this afternoon. It was hard to guess what was cloud and what was smoke hanging in the air. Now, it's thundering to the north of us, and lightning strikes are dangerous. Even with accompanying rain, the mega jolt of heated electricity can spark a new fire.

It's a couple of weeks until the official start of hurricane season, and the National Weather Service is predicting we should start getting rains on time. Thank you, Lord.

And Lord, I hope you won't think I'm being uber-demanding for praying we won't get any nasty storms this year, just a little tropical storm or two, with rain.

Thank you again, Lord.

Signing off for now.


UPDATE MONDAY, MAY 14

We're getting rain, glorious rain!

And all manner of things

OK, I don't want my fellow bloggers especially those two whose names start with "M," to get all cranky with me. No, not MadPriest this time. Mimi and Mickey, my confreres in saint-listing.

It's Dame Julian's feast day, you know, and you know she's my fav, right up there with Mary Magdalene. I feel her spirit poking around in my psyche, sometimes, trying to find something saintly. Trying to pull Christian love out of the mishmash that passes for my mind.

Sometimes she succeeds, with teachings such as:

"This blessed friend is Jesus; it is his will and plan that we hang on to him, and hold tight always, in whatever circumstances; for whether we are filthy or clean is all the same to his love."

"Glad and merry and sweet is the blessed and lovely demeanour of our Lord towards our souls, for he saw us always living in love-longing, and he wants our souls to be gladly disposed toward him . . . by his grace he lifts up and will draw our outer disposition to our inward, and will make us all at unity with him, and each of us with others in the true, lasting joy which is Jesus."

When things get tough, as they are wont to do, I quote Julian under my breath: "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." I say it like a breath prayer, over and over, and it's incredibly comforting.

On days when it all just seems too hard, Julian reminds me about God's will, not mine, and that I'm supposed to hang on tight to him, "in whatever circumstances."

One of Julian's writings I first read was her vision of God holding the Earth in his (or her) hand, and it was something as small as a hazelnut ("a small, brown nut") held in his mighty palm. Yet he would never, ever lose it, but would treat it tenderly.

It takes my breath away how well this mystic of the Middle Ages understood the fragility of our island home, this fragile Earth.

Thank you, Mother Julian. I love you.

Julian is probably the best-loved of all the English mystics. She was born around 1342, and her feast day is observed May 8. She's believed to have died on that date around 1417.

Presiding Bishop Katharine was called a heretic after her election at GC 2006 for quoting a Julian passage referring to "Mother" God. Apparently, the accusing bishops aren't up on their saints of the church.


For James Kiefer's bio and more samples of Julian's writings, go here.

A glimpse through a glass, darkly

When I looked ahead in the liturgical calendar and found Monnica's feast day coming up, I also read the Bible passages for her feast day, May 4.

One of them game me goosebumps and a little chill up my spine. It was from the Gospel of John. It was one of those "aha" moments, when a passage just clicks, and I have a new understanding or perception. This one gave me a vision of the aching and yearning of a torn creation seeking its Creator, but the promise of something to come from that pain. This is what I wrote about it for the newspaper column, but you know the rest of the story:

The question of pain and suffering in this world comes up often when
people ask me about faith. The question is part of my own wrestling with God.

A faith so simplistic it never addresses doubts isn't deep enough to carry me through the really rough times.

Why, if there is a merciful God, do suffering, sickness, death and mourning exist in this world?

As I was looking at some of the readings coming up in the church calendar, I read John 16:20-24, and I believe it points toward an answer. It gives me a glimpse of things I cannot see clearly, but then Paul told us in his first letter to the Corinthians, "Now we look through a glass, darkly, but then, face to face."

In the passage from the Gospel of John, we are told "Jesus said, 'Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy. When a woman is in labor, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. On that day you will ask nothing of me. Very truly, I tell you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.'"

We will weep and mourn. It has been so since Adam and Eve were evicted from the Garden of Eden. Bible stories tell us God used to walk in the garden with them in the cool of the evening, and they could walk and talk with him and look upon the face of God.

Then Adam and Eve had to leave the Garden of Eden.

For the first time, they experienced life that wasn't in the Kingdom of God. They experienced suffering, pain, grief, death, injustice.

No more could mortal look upon the face of God and live, until Jesus came into the world. He came and lived among us for 33 years, in the form of a human.

Just as water can flow into a parched desert for a very short time and nourish flowers into bloom, and bring fish and shrimp to life to provide plentiful food for the multitudes, so did Jesus. He came into a parched world and offered life and hope; the Kingdom of God swirled about him like a cloak and touched so many people, leaving hope behind him.

Without hope, we could not endure this world, which rejoices in our suffering.

Now, we wait for Christ to return, never to leave us again. Now, creation aches from being torn from the full presence of God. We wait; we are in the hour, awaiting the birth of our new beings.

We spend most of our lives begging God to spare us.

"Save us from the time of trial," we say in the Lord's Prayer. But we are being refined, and God patiently works on us, just as a purifier of silver holds the metal in the hottest part of the fire to purify it. (Malachi 3.3)

We wait in darkness, but know the light is coming.

We will look upon the face of God again; he will look back at us, and our suffering will end.

"Weeping may last for the night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

God gives us a glimpse into his kingdom.

'Nothing is far from God'

Monnica, Mother of Augustine of Hippo
4 May 387

Augustine takes leave of his mother, Monnica

Monnica gives us one of the greatest examples of intercessory prayer of all the saints. She prayed her whole life for her son Augustine's conversion to Christianity, along with her husband's. She made a number of mistakes along the way, but we see through her story how God will redeem our mistakes.

Augustine not only became a Christian, he became one of Christianity's greatest thinkers and theologians.

Methinks he got it from his mother. Monnica's simple statement, "Nothing is far from God," is one of the most succinct statements of faith and trust in God I have ever read.

James Kiefer's bio:

We know about Monnica almost entirely from the autobiography (the Confessions) of her son Augustine, a major Christian writer, theologian and philosopher (see 28 August). Monnica was born in North Africa, near Carthage, in what is now Tunisia, perhaps around 331, of Christian parents, and was a Christian throughout her life.

Her name has usually been spelled "Monica," but recently her tomb in Ostia was discovered, and the burial inscription says "Monnica," a spelling which all Ac (Archaeologically Correct) persons have hastened to adopt. (On the other hand, it may simply be that the artisan who carved the inscription was a bad speller.)

As a girl, she was fond of wine, but on one occasion was taunted by a slave girl for drunkenness, and resolved not to drink thereafter. She was married to a pagan husband, Patricius, a man of hot temper, who was often unfaithful to her, but never insulted or struck her. It was her happiness to see both him and his mother ultimately receive the Gospel.

Monnica soon recognized that her son was a man of extraordinary intellectual gifts, a brilliant thinker and a natural leader of men (as a youngster he was head of a local gang of juvenile delinquents), and she had strong ambitions and high hopes for his success in a secular career. Indeed, though we do not know all the circumstances, most Christians today would say that her efforts to steer him into a socially advantageous marriage were in every way a disaster. However, she grew in spiritual maturity through a life of prayer, and her ambitions for his worldly success were transformed into a desire for his conversion. He, as a youth, rejected her religion with scorn, and looked to various pagan philosophies for clues to the meaning of life.

He undertook a career as an orator and teacher of the art of oratory (rhetoric), and moved from Africa to Rome and thence to Milan, at that time the seat of government in Italy. His mother followed him there a few years later. In Milan, Augustine met the bishop Ambrose, from whom he learned that Christianity could be intellectually respectable, and under whose preaching he was eventually converted and baptised on Easter Eve in 387, to the great joy of Monnica.

After his baptism, Augustine and a younger brother Navigius and Monnica planned to return to Africa together, but in Ostia, the port city of Rome, Monnica fell ill and said, "You will bury your mother here. All I ask of you is that, wherever you may be, you should remember me at the altar of the Lord. Do not fret because I am buried far from our home in Africa. Nothing is far from God, and I have no fear that he will not know where to find me, when he comes to raise me to life at the end of the world."


PRAYER (contemporary language)

O Lord, who through spiritual discipline strengthened your Servant Monnica to persevere in offering her love and prayers and tears for the conversion of her husband and of Augustine their son: Deepen our devotion, we pray, and use us in accordance with your will to bring others, even our own kindred, to acknowledge Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.

A morning walk

Some of the things Betsy (the best dog in the whole world) and I see on our morning walks.





Morning has broken, like the first morning




















Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning.
Praise for the springing, fresh from the Word.





















Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass.


































Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness, where His feet pass.


















Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play















Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day


("Morning Has Broken" from a poem by Eleanor Farjeon,as sung by Cat Stevens)

Lord, Have Mercy

I just heard the rant-message actor Alec Baldwin left on his 11-year-old daughter's cell phone. Lord have mercy on them both.

What damage parents inflict on their children. The pain in Baldwin's voice is obvious. He's in agony himself.

Yet, his tone is so ugly and menacing, as he accuses his daughter of hurting him (by having her cell phone turned off when he called), and calling her a "pig" and telling her he's going to "straighten her out" when he sees her.

Hearing it made me cringe, and I'm a grown woman.

Lord have mercy on them both. They both need healing. Perhaps daughter Ireland, in the middle of her parents' ugly divorce (her mother is actress Kim Basinger), should be in the custody of neither. Ireland's mother apparently released the tape, as ammunition in her custody case. Doesn't Basinger have a clue this harms her daughter even more?

How many times a day do scenes like that play out, unheard because the parents are not famous?

God have mercy, and heal all the hurting human beings who hurt each other.

God, please don't let parents wound their children so.

Technolgies come and go, war stays the same

Mark Twain wrote/dictated this in 1904, late in his life, when he was already considered a literary lion. Yet, his publisher refused to publish it, and his family was even afraid of it going into print -- afraid the author would be accused of sacrilege.

Twain said, "I have told the truth in that -- and only dead men can tell the truth in this world."

Twain died in 1910, and the piece was finally published in 1923.

The War Prayer
by Mark Twain

It was a time of great and exalting excitement. The country was up in arms, the war was on, in every breast burned the holy fire of patriotism; the drums were beating, the bands playing, the toy pistols popping, the bunched firecrackers hissing and spluttering; on every hand and far down the receding and fading spread of roofs and balconies a fluttering wilderness of flags flashed in the sun; daily the young volunteers marched down the wide avenue gay and fine in their new uniforms, the proud fathers and mothers and sisters and sweethearts cheering them with voices choked with happy emotion as they swung by; nightly the packed mass meetings listened, panting, to patriot oratory which stirred the deepest deeps of their hearts, and which they interrupted at briefest intervals with cyclones of applause, the tears running down their cheeks the while; in the churches the pastors preached devotion to flag and country, and invoked the God of Battles beseeching His aid in our good cause in outpourings of fervid eloquence which moved every listener.

It was indeed a glad and gracious time, and the half dozen rash spirits that ventured to disapprove of the war and cast a doubt upon its righteousness straightway got such a stern and angry warning that for their personal safety's sake they quickly shrank out of sight and offended no more in that way.

Sunday morning came -- next day the battalions would leave for the front; the church was filled; the volunteers were there, their young faces alight with martial dreams -- visions of the stern advance, the gathering momentum, the rushing charge, the flashing sabers, the flight of the foe, the tumult, the enveloping smoke, the fierce pursuit, the surrender!

Then home from the war, bronzed heroes, welcomed, adored, submerged in golden seas of glory! With the volunteers sat their dear ones, proud, happy, and envied by the neighbors and friends who had no sons and brothers to send forth to the field of honor, there to win for the flag, or, failing, die the noblest of noble deaths. The service proceeded; a war chapter from the Old Testament was read; the first prayer was said; it was followed by an organ burst that shook the building, and with one impulse the house rose, with glowing eyes and beating hearts, and poured out that tremendous invocation

*God the all-terrible! Thou who ordainest! Thunder thy clarion and
lightning thy sword!*

Then came the "long" prayer. None could remember the like of it for passionate pleading and moving and beautiful language. The burden of its supplication was, that an ever-merciful and benignant Father of us all would watch over our noble young soldiers, and aid, comfort, and encourage them in their patriotic work; bless them, shield them in the day of battle and the hour of peril, bear them in His mighty hand, make them strong and confident, invincible in the bloody onset; help them to crush the foe, grant to them and to their flag and country imperishable honor and glory --

An aged stranger entered and moved with slow and noiseless step up the main aisle, his eyes fixed upon the minister, his long body clothed in a robe that reached to his feet, his head bare, his white hair descending in a frothy cataract to his shoulders, his seamy face unnaturally pale, pale even to ghastliness. With all eyes following him and wondering, he made his silent way; without pausing, he ascended to the preacher's side and stood there waiting.

With shut lids the preacher, unconscious of his presence, continued with his moving prayer, and at last finished it with the words, uttered in fervent appeal, "Bless our arms, grant us the victory, O Lord our God, Father and Protector of our land and flag!"

The stranger touched his arm, motioned him to step aside -- which the startled minister did -- and took his place. During some moments he surveyed the spellbound audience with solemn eyes, in which burned an uncanny light; then in a deep voice he said:

"I come from the Throne -- bearing a message from Almighty God!" The words smote the house with a shock; if the stranger perceived it he gave no attention. "He has heard the prayer of His servant your shepherd, and will grant it if such shall be your desire after I, His messenger, shall have explained to you its import -- that is to say, its full import. For it is like unto many of the prayers of men, in that it asks for more than he who utters it is aware of -- except he pause and think.

"God's servant and yours has prayed his prayer. Has he paused and taken thought? Is it one prayer? No, it is two -- one uttered, the other not. Both have reached the ear of Him Who heareth all supplications, the spoken and the unspoken. Ponder this -- keep it in mind. If you would beseech a blessing upon yourself, beware! lest without intent you invoke a curse upon a neighbor at the same time. If you pray for the blessing of rain upon your crop which needs it, by that act you are possibly praying for a curse upon some neighbor's crop which may not need rain and can be injured by it.

"You have heard your servant's prayer -- the uttered part of it. I am commissioned of God to put into words the other part of it -- that part which the pastor -- and also you in your hearts -- fervently prayed silently. And ignorantly and unthinkingly? God grant that it was so!

You heard these words: 'Grant us the victory, O Lord our God!' That is sufficient. the *whole* of the uttered prayer is compact into those pregnant words. Elaborations were not necessary. When you have prayed for victory you have prayed for many unmentioned results which follow victory--*must* follow it, cannot help but followit. Upon the listening spirit of God fell also the unspoken part of the prayer. He commandeth me to put it into words. Listen!

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle -- be Thou near them! With them -- in spirit -- we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their
humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it -- for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts.
Amen.

(*After a pause.*) "Ye have prayed it; if ye still desire it, speak!
The messenger of the Most High waits!"

It was believed afterward that the man was a lunatic, because there was
no sense in what he said.

Transcribed by Steven Orso (snorso@facstaff.wisc.edu)

Time to say, 'No more'

I've been thinking about the Don Imus firing and how my only comment would be, "Well, let's see if NBC and all its affiliated stations and networks will be straight up enough to pull music with the kind of lyrics Imus used, and pull programming with that kind of message."

My guess: probably not. As long as there's profit to be made pandering to the lowest common denominator, the hucksters will seek the money and justify themselves by saying what other people do is not their fault. And there's a bit of truth to that.

Imus' use of insulting and demeaning words to those young women is just a small part of the picture, though. The shooting at Va. Tech today puts it all into context.

We can't wait for the hucksters and panderers to quit selling their crap. We, as concerned parents, children, brothers and sisters, and members of this society, have to stand up and say "No more."

No more to this culture of violence.

No more to music that calls women hos and makes violence against them look like a normal part of life. No more of ultra-violent video games in which players spray characters with gunfire, leaving them in pools of blood. No more glorification of violence.

No more culture of violence.

It's not funny. It's not cool for young women to call each other "bitches" and "hos" because they're trying to be hipper than hip.

Kids don't need to be fed lies that life is only about getting just what they want, regardless of the cost to others. They don't need to be fed lies that dissing other people is what makes them powerful, while other people dissing them in any perceived way is punishable by violence - or death.

No more culture of violence.

We have our president as cultural icon. How does he handle problems? Go kick some Arab butt. So what if a few hundred-thousand civilians die?

No more, no more.

I went to school in Virginia, not at Va. Tech, but at another college in the state's rolling hills. It's not the kind of place where you expect anything like that to happen. No place is, I guess, but it keeps happening in all these small towns and places where you just don't expect mass murder to happen. It shouldn't happen anywhere.

No more, no more. If we don't stand up and say no more, then we deserve it. We're letting it happen.


Addendum Tuesday, April 17

Dear Lord, please hold those who perished yesterday close to your heart, secure in their new life eternal. Also hold close the families and loved ones, for they are coming through shock into grief now, and need your consolation, and need to hold onto your promises. Surround them with the right people to comfort them and help them through this time of grief. Pour out your blessings on them. We ask this in the name of your compassionate son, Jesus Christ. Amen.

A day at home

I got up, showered, fixed my hair and makeup, and got dressed and ready for church. Then I didn't go.

I got worried about the weather. The frontal system that's played havoc with so much of the country is passing through Florida today. The bad weather was forecast to move through in the early-morning hours, and a bit to the north of us, but it moved slower and farther south than predicted. The weather people were talking ground winds of 40-60 m.p.h., heavy storms and tornadoes.

Not wanting to be caught on the highway in such weather, and especially, knowing I'd just worry about my animals (my babies) while I was gone, I kicked my shoes off and stayed home.

Luckily, or as an answer to prayer, we escaped the nasty stuff that went to the north and south of us. It turned really dark for a while, and rained hard. We had some strong gusts, but no sustained high winds. According the weather radar, the squall line has passed us now, and the tornado watch is off for my county, but the cold front is still approaching, and high winds and thunderstorms are forecast all afternoons.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have worried about it too much. I'd have headed for church. With hurricanes, tropical storms and tornadoes and more tornadoes ripping up the landscape around here in recent history, I've become a little gun-shy.

I've had a nice day at home, listening to music and catching up on the blogosphere.

Now the lights keeping dimming a bit, so I'm posting this before I lose it, then I'll add some more.

ADDENDUM

Wow, some strong winds.

Anyway, it turned cold in time for Easter, last Sunday (See related story at Fashion Fizz), but I refused to turn on the heat, because it was supposed to warm up again after a couple of days. It surely did, but I refused to turn on the A/C until Friday. Now, it's supposed to go down into the 40s tonight, after this front comes through.

Aaaiiieeee! I'm convinced it's global warming messing with the jet stream and weather patterns.

Stories of the down and out

The last few weeks, I've been a little distracted because of interviews and stories I've been doing. It's part of a whole series on the local homeless I've been writing for the paper.

There are those who would like to bus the street people to a camp somewhere, or maybe force-march them to Montana, as long as it removes them. It's hard to dehumanize someone, though, once you've seen her or his human face, and that's what I've been trying to do -- show the face of humanity through these people, and show the forces that bring people to homelessness.

The first few segments have run, and there are a few more to go, already written up. The response to what's been published has been positive.

These people have poured their hearts out to me. Tales of abuse, alcohol, drugs, violence, mental illness. Homes, families, careers, dignity, all lost.

Some have overcome years of alcohol and drug abuse, and rebuilt their lives, and now have responsible positions in the community. They've opened up about things done to them, and things they've done. I admire their courage, for it's always risky to talk on the record about some of these things, but they did, giving courageous witnesses.

One young man determined to break free of family patterns called homelessness a pit with very high walls.

Some I talked with had been plucked off the streets into rehab, and have won some battles with their demons, but the war is not over. They're still in the trenches. You can still see the demons lurking, waiting for an opportunity to regain control. God bless and help these people.

A common ingredient for success seems to be some kind of faith, and some sort of epiphany that God didn't intend them to be living the way they had been, and was calling them to a new life. "Call it the 'higher power' spoken of in AA, or God, whatever you will," said one man.

One man told me he was walking down the street after a week's binge, filled with self-loathing and rage against the world, when he had an epiphany. He looked up into the sky and realized, he had to choose between good and evil. It was suddenly that simple for him.

For another, it was the earth-shattering realization he had thrown away everything. He had sunk to the point he had the option of either rehab or jail. He began to realize the hurt he had done others. All this, along with friends of faith determined to help him into a better life, made the difference.

Not that gaining sobriety was easy -- another common theme I heard from those who had reintegrated into the community was realizing they couldn't do it alone -- but the will to it was suddenly there.

That's why providing encouragement, rehabilitation (sometimes over and over again) and a supportive community is so important. We can't just step over or around people as if they aren't there, or bus them somewhere else. We can't offer moralizing or a sermon to someone whose belly is empty. We don't have to try and convert anyone, just be there. Feed the hungry; clothe the naked; provide shelter. Provide assistance to deal with demons.

The stories of the people I talked with have been swirling around in my head; they have remained with me.

We have to start treating our homeless and our mentally-ill better. An already poor system of mental-health care here in Florida has gotten worse the past few years. There aren't nearly enough beds in state psychiatric hospitals. There aren't enough emergency shelter beds, or long-term beds for those who can't look out for themselves. The waiting list for residential rehab for substance abusers is often too long (my brother faced this). Case-management services for outpatient treatment has been cut severely.

Of course, the homeless aren't a constituency. They are not pretty, as I mentioned in an earlier post; some are bizarre, some are downright scary in their mental illness, and more are obnoxious. Few vote or donate to political campaigns. They don't have lobbyists walking the halls of the Legislature. Nobody's made much noise on their behalf except a few bleeding-heart liberals who are easily dismissed. And nobody wants the homeless or services to attract more of them in their neighborhood.

I do think the tide is starting to turn. Thank God, and thank God for the ministers who devote themselves to helping the down and out.

As one minister to the street people said, if we're going to call ourselves Christians, we have to start acting like we're Christians.

I've been tagged
It's Six Weird Things

Padre Mickey and his Dance Party Posse tagged me, and Hedwyg, too. (Sounds like they went on safari and tagged the elusive, wild Saint Pat with a tracking device.)

Anyway, that's what I get for having a wild week at work and no time to blog. I've been knee-deep in alligators and municipal scandals (with politicians hurtling accusations against other politicians and accusing them of playing politics -- imagine that!)

Six Weird Things Meme

According to the rules I must:
1. Reveal six weird things about yourself on your blog, and
2. Tag six people to do the same.

Where to begin, where to begin.

OK.

1. I have a subsidiary blog (the also neglected Fashion Fizz) at which I refer to myself in the third person and pretend I know anything about fashion.

2. I make coffee nude in the morning. Also frequently do housework nude. (Frequently as in "When I do it, I do it nude" -- not that I frequently do housework.)

3. I recently memorized the lyrics to "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina," for no particular reason -- just kept playing the Joan Baez version over and over again, while I worked on the computer.

4. I talk to my dog and cats, and answer for them. Well, I could be talking to and answering myself = truly nutty. Oh, wait, I do that, too.

5. I usually sleep with the TV on. I got in that habit when I was traveling a lot for a job. It blocked out noise from motel ice-machines, elevators, loud guests, etc. I got hooked on watching late-night TV when I'd crawl in. I tried using a timer to turn off the tube, but the sound of the TV clicking off would wake me up. If I need to sleep somewhere without access to Jay Leno/Dave Letterman/Conan O'Brien and the others, I sleep just fine, however. YES!!! It's true -- I sleep with a bunch of men!

6. My reading of Scripture is orthodox. I believe in miracles, the Resurrection, spiritual gifts, the whole nine yards. I get into trouble with the "orthodox" by actually applying what Jesus said to life, instead of applying what the "orthodox" position is on what Jesus said. That's my considered opinion.


Now, I tag the wise but youthful Ann, blogosphere venerable hunk and attempted defender of the Communion, Brother Causticus, co-equal hunk o' the blogosphere, Father Jake, and his lovely wife Demi, the ever-lovely Catherine, the pressed-for-time-but-we're-not-gonna-let-you-take-a-blog-break Lisa, and the effervescent Sharecropper.

I'm waiting.

Deborah: prophet, leader of Israel

Deborah is the latest entry in my 'saints and great Godly women' series. She became a leader when the people of Israel were (again) sent into slavery, under the Canaanites, in a series of cycles of sin and redemption -- straying from God, being sent into exile or slavery, and repenting.

Deborah had earned a great reputation as a judge. This was in the days before there were kings of Israel, and judges were very powerful. God chose Deborah to free the people of Israel. She was a great leader ... and a woman.

Perhaps our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori will too be remembered as a wise and great leader, who hears the voice of God.

The battle Katharine fights will not be with chariots, swords or stakes. The battle will be of hearing and obeying God's word, like Deborah, but using her strength of character, her wisdom, her skills of leadership, her ability to illuminate the Gospel, her diplomacy, to win peace for her church. Pray for her. Perhaps like Deborah, Katharine can lead us into 40 years (too many to count!) of peace.




Judges 4 (New International Version):

Deborah

1 After Ehud died, the Israelites once again did evil in the eyes of the LORD. 2 So the LORD sold them into the hands of Jabin, a king of Canaan, who reigned in Hazor. The commander of his army was Sisera, who lived in Harosheth Haggoyim. 3 Because he had nine hundred iron chariots and had cruelly oppressed the Israelites for twenty years, they cried to the LORD for help.

4 Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, was leading [a] Israel at that time. 5 She held court under the Palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim, and the Israelites came to her to have their disputes decided. 6 She sent for Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali and said to him, "The LORD, the God of Israel, commands you: 'Go, take with you ten thousand men of Naphtali and Zebulun and lead the way to Mount Tabor. 7 I will lure Sisera, the commander of Jabin's army, with his chariots and his troops to the Kishon River and give him into your hands.' "

8 Barak said to her, "If you go with me, I will go; but if you don't go with me, I won't go."

9 "Very well," Deborah said, "I will go with you. But because of the way you are going about this, [b] the honor will not be yours, for the LORD will hand Sisera over to a woman." So Deborah went with Barak to Kedesh, 10 where he summoned Zebulun and Naphtali. Ten thousand men followed him, and Deborah also went with him.

11 Now Heber the Kenite had left the other Kenites, the descendants of Hobab, Moses' brother-in-law, [c] and pitched his tent by the great tree in Zaanannim near Kedesh.

12 When they told Sisera that Barak son of Abinoam had gone up to Mount Tabor, 13 Sisera gathered together his nine hundred iron chariots and all the men with him, from Harosheth Haggoyim to the Kishon River.

14 Then Deborah said to Barak, "Go! This is the day the LORD has given Sisera into your hands. Has not the LORD gone ahead of you?" So Barak went down Mount Tabor, followed by ten thousand men. 15 At Barak's advance, the LORD routed Sisera and all his chariots and army by the sword, and Sisera abandoned his chariot and fled on foot. 16 But Barak pursued the chariots and army as far as Harosheth Haggoyim. All the troops of Sisera fell by the sword; not a man was left.

17 Sisera, however, fled on foot to the tent of Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, because there were friendly relations between Jabin king of Hazor and the clan of Heber the Kenite.

18 Jael went out to meet Sisera and said to him, "Come, my Lord , come right in. Don't be afraid." So he entered her tent, and she put a covering over him.

19 "I'm thirsty," he said. "Please give me some water." She opened a skin of milk, gave him a drink, and covered him up.

20 "Stand in the doorway of the tent," he told her. "If someone comes by and asks you, 'Is anyone here?' say 'No.' "

21 But Jael, Heber's wife, picked up a tent peg and a hammer and went quietly to him while he lay fast asleep, exhausted. She drove the peg through his temple into the ground, and he died.

22 Barak came by in pursuit of Sisera, and Jael went out to meet him. "Come," she said, "I will show you the man you're looking for." So he went in with her, and there lay Sisera with the tent peg through his temple-dead.

23 On that day God subdued Jabin, the Canaanite king, before the Israelites. 24 And the hand of the Israelites grew stronger and stronger against Jabin, the Canaanite king, until they destroyed him.

****

Deborah ruled Israel with wisdom, settling disputes in her court under the Palm of Deborah. It was Deborah who sent for the military leader Barak, who came when she called, but who would not go into battle without her. Deborah went with him. It was women who brought about victory, freeing Israel from the Canaanites. From the Song of Deborah:

2 "When the princes in Israel take the lead, when the people willingly offer themselves— praise the LORD!

3 "Hear this, you kings! Listen, you rulers! I will sing to the LORD, I will sing; I will make music to the LORD, the God of Israel.

Easter greetings

I think I, like my favorite saint, Mary Magdalene, have spent time weeping outside an empty tomb -- way too much time. The tomb is empty; rejoice!

This Lenten season was a time of reflection for me, and a time of renewal. The joy that's been largely AWOL the past couple of years continues to seep back in, and that's a good thing. We were created to experience joy; our joy delights God, and denying joy is a sin, indeed.

Not of course, that I go 'round joyful every moment. I'm not even under medication. But those moments of joy, sometimes small, and somtimes profound, have been coming back. Creativity is sneaking back in, too.

I read with interest the Lenten dialog about atonement at Father Jake's. What it comes down to for me is love. He loved us enough to come into this world as a frail human, one of us and with us, to live a hard life -- a life of deprivation and physical endurance that we can't really grasp, in a time when life was hard and short -- and to die. For love of us.

Would anything less than the cross have even gotten our attention?

Christ came so we might have life in abundance.

There is a time for everything under heaven, including time to cry, but we shouldn't waste time crying outside an empty tomb. We are to live, in this life, and into the next.

A favorite song this time of year at the Church of Open Arms is this one, and I love it. The melody is upbeat, almost like an Irish jig:


"Lord of the Dance"

I danced in the morning when the world was begun,
I danced on the moon and the stars and the sun
I came down from Heaven and I danced on the earth
At then Bethlehem I had my birth

Chorus:
Dance, then, wherever you may be
For I am the Lord of the Dance said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be
And I'll lead you all in the Dance said He.

I danced for the scribe and the Pharisee,
But they would not dance and they would not follow me;
I danced for the fishermen, for James and John
They came with me and the Dance went on.

I danced on the Sabbath and I cured the lame;
The holy people said it was a shame.
They whipped and they stripped and they hung me on high
And left me there on the cross to die

I danced on a Friday when the sky turned black
It's hard to dance with the Devil on your back
They buried my body and they thought I'd gone
But I am the Dance and I still go on.

They cut me down and I leapt up high:
I am the life that will never, never die.
I'll live in you if you live in me
I am the Lord of the Dance said he.


I'll live in you, Lord!

Happy Easter, everyone!

Back to the middle ages
Don't kiss, don't tell, or don't get Communion

I saw this news story yesterday. The sheer hypocrisy of the priest is flabbergasting -- sin is OK, as long as nobody knows about it?

That's if exercising one's rights as an American, and standing up for one's beliefs is a sin. That, apparently was the sin that got the lesbian couple excommunicated. They dared to write their legislator in support of same-sex marriage, and it got into the newspaper. Terrible. Now everybody knew the couple was gay, and apparently the only sinners in the church, because they were the only ones excommunicated.

Hypocrisy. Gay discrimination. Power play.

Priests like this would like to return to the dark ages, when they had more complete control over people. A word from the priest and people were shunned. Excommunication was a life or death matter.

I'm not just picking on Roman Catholic priests. There are plenty in the Episcopal Church making the same kind of rumblings. Wrong politics, wrong "manner of life" = out.

Last year during Lent, the bishop of this diocese wrote a piece in the diocesan newsletter in which he suggested withholding Communion might be used more often to "discipline" members of the flock. Some gay and lesbian members were afraid they might approach the Communion rails at their churches and be turned away.

See my entry from March last year here

The fuss over that died down, with no one denied Communion, at least that I know of, thank God.

The sin is in using the Sacraments, using the body and blood of Christ as an instrument of power.

God knows our all our sins, public and private, and he will judge us all, priests included.

Here's the story:

Gay couple denied communion after stand
After taking a public stand for same-sex marriage, a gay couple were
notified they are no longer welcome at Catholic communion.

By KATHLEEN MILLER
Associated Press

GILLETTE, Wyo. --
Leah Vader and Lynne Huskinson, a lesbian couple who got married in
Canada in August, sent a letter recently to their state legislator
decrying a Wyoming bill that would deny recognition of same-sex
marriages. The lawmaker read the letter on the floor of the
Legislature.

Soon after, the local paper interviewed the couple on Ash Wednesday and
ran a story and pictures of them with ash on their foreheads, a mark of
their Christian faith.

It wasn't long after that that the couple received a notice from their
parish church telling them they have been barred from receiving
Communion.

"If all this stuff hadn't hit the newspaper, it wouldn't have been any
different than before -- nobody would have known about it," said the
couple's parish priest at St. Matthew's, the Rev. Cliff Jacobson. "The
sin is one thing. It's a very different thing to go public with that
sin."

Catholics deemed sinners in the eyes of the church are sometimes taken
aside and privately advised not to take Communion. But Cheyenne Bishop
David Ricken, gay Catholic organizations and a national church
spokeswoman said they could not recall any previous instance of a U.S.
bishop denying the sacrament to a gay couple in writing.

Now Huskinson and Vader say they are struggling to reconcile their
devotion to the church with their devotion to each other.

"You spend half your time defending your gayness to Catholics," Vader
said, "and the other half of your time defending your Catholicism to
gays." ...

Again

Again, you call, you call.

Again, I pause my wandering in the dry land

Again, I hear and finally listen

Again, I turn back to you, with tears of repentance

Again, you accept me

Again, you assure me of your love

Again, I beg you to hold me close

Again, I tell you of my love

Again, I promise I will never be unfaithful again

Again, you forgive me.

Bp. Howe responds to Standing Committee's statement
He has 'no problem' with it

The missive from the Standing Committee of the Diocese of Central (see my entry of March 30) is now posted on the diocesan Web site (still with no names attached), but with a comment from Bp. John Howe.

Interestingly, the bishop speculates on whether or not the primates and the Archbishop of Canterbury might proceed with a pastoral scheme or appointing a primatial vicar -- despite the fact the House of Bishops just said no.

I do agree with Bp. Howe's assessment that a primatial vicar would not be welcome in most parts of the Episcopal Church, with good reason.

Here is the bishop's statement:

The Rt. Rev. John W. Howe, Bishop of the Diocese of Central Florida, responds to the Standing Committee


March 29, 2007


Dear Brothers and Sisters,


Enough of you have asked me about our Standing Committee's "Statement" released earlier today that a couple of comments to all of you may be appropriate.


No, I was not part of the crafting this Statement; it is a Statement of the Standing Committee, not the Bishop and Standing Committee. Fr. Don Curran (President) did post me last night, before releasing it. He did not ask my endorsement, permission, or my opinion; it was simply a courtesy notification that the Statement had been produced.


I told him that I was not sure the Statement was necessary, but I had no problem with it.

At this point we have had no response from the Archbishop of Canterbury to the House of Bishops' resolutions. I do not know whether the Archbishop and the Primates plan to proceed in establishing a "Pastoral Council," or appointing a "Primatial Vicar," or implementing a "Pastoral Scheme."


In all honesty, I cannot imagine that the ministry of a "Primatial Vicar" would be welcome in most parts of The Episcopal Church, given the way the Bishops distanced themselves from what was proposed in the Communique.

I have told you of my communication with both the Archbishop and the Presiding Bishop, and as soon as I have any clear sense of what is next I will share it with you.


I believe there will be a third meeting of the "Windsor Bishops," and if there is, I will attend. But there may be those who question its importance, given the events of the last few weeks. I do not know whether the Windsor Bishops will be able to act in a concerted effort.


I promise I will do absolutely everything I can to implement the proposals of the Primates in their Communique from Tanzania. But the best I can do may not be enough.


The canons of The Episcopal Church define the role of the Standing Committee in these terms: "There shall be a Standing Committee which shall be a Council of Advice to the Bishop." They do not envision the Standing Committee setting policy for a Diocese. The canons go on to state that: "The Diocesan Convention shall be the legislative Authority of the Diocese." It is the Convention, and in between Conventions, the Diocesan Board, that sets policy for a Diocese.


Thus, it is important to understand that the Standing Committee has spoken for itself, and not necessarily for the Diocese of Central Florida. We will simply have to see how this unfolding scenario continues to unfold. I do appreciate this Statement, and I look forward to our time together next Wednesday when we shall see where all the clergy are on this important matter.


Warmest regards in our Lord,
The Right Rev. John W. Howe,

Episcopal Bishop of Central Florida