I promised myself a while back I wouldn't spend so much time blogging on church politics, but here we go again, the third entry in a row.

The Episcopal Voices of Central listserv moderator found this lovely, spiritual post at Virtue. How awful that a canon in the Episcopal Church writes this kind of stuff.

Maybe it's a good thing the Cathedral lists itself only as a member of the Network, and not the Episcopal Church.

Here it is, with my **[comments]**

THE SPIRITUALITY OF ELITIST REVOLUTIONS

By Canon Gary L'Hommedieu
Special To Virtueonline
www.virtueonline.org

Ever wonder why the mainline denominations have gone to war over sodomy? Does anyone really believe this issue is the moral equivalent to slavery in the 19th century, or segregated lunch counters in the 20th? Or, for that matter, to slavery and genocide in the 21st century, both of which get a "pass" from the more refined activism of today's church leaders?

**[What is he talking about? It's the ACN/AAC who's buddying up to provinces whose leaders go along with slavery, genocide, female mutilation and other atrocities. An it's very strange homosexuality looms as the great evil, while the "orthodox and traditional" ignore these violations against humanity. I imagine 60 years ago, the canon would have put the Civil Rights movement into the same context -- that it was all about miscenegation and "colored" men lusting after white women -- and white men's positions. I won't even get into the Virtue-like obsession with anal sex.] **

How has the leadership of the Episcopal Church (along with others) decided that now is the time and this is the issue; that it is worth dividing congregations and communions?

These same leaders would insist that gay liberation is the natural successor to the movements that preceded it. They would point to the handful of minority representatives in their front offices who can be counted on to sing in chorus that all liberations are created equal. They would say, in effect, that the New Spirit of Christ came not to bring peace but a sword; let us throw caution to the wind and let the chips fall where they may. **[Yes, let us follow the example of Jesus Christ, who was ever so cautious not to offend the religious leadership, or the Romans]**

[Am I picking up a thread of racism here?]

But why is the present argument more intense and more shrill than the fashionable protests of preceding decades? Is this really the pinnacle of moral discourse in the churches and in democratic societies, or is time running out on moral discourse, whether fashionable or not?
**[So we live in a perfect world, where no further moral discourse is necessary? Lovely!]**

Put another way: why has the liberal machine, in church and society, put its eggs in this basket? Whose approval do they seek **[God's]**, and what do they hope to accomplish? **[justice]** And why the note of desperation as they approach still another ideological victory on another hot button issue? **[Actually, it's the AAC/Network people who sound shrill, and desperate to hang onto the "traditional" status quo]**

For many religious groups in America protest has become a religion. **[Protest against injustice is a response to faith and the teachings of Jesus Christ}** A few months ago as I drove past the local Unitarian Church **[uh-oh, those dang liberals}** in my hometown, I read on the marquis: "Freedom to Marry." At the time a number of states were considering legislation regarding same-sex unions. Here, then, was a cause du jour. Gay marriage was inserted into the blank where peace had been a few weeks earlier and some reference to the environment a few weeks before that. People's
responses would be the same in each case. I realized that the cause fulfilled a need. People needed to feel outraged over the manifest aggression of some unseen Oppressor and empowered by their rage. **[Yeah, like the poor oppressed Network, raging against the "liberal' Episcopal Church]**

In America people often protest not because they believe in causes, but because they believe in protest. They "believe" in the ritual sense that the familiar form of protest mediates to them feelings of assurance and righteousness. Such ritualized mediation is the basis of religious practice. The cause doesn't matter, whether it be genocide or vegetarianism. The essence is: They are trying to oppress Us (again) and so we must assert ourselves and protest.
**[The cause does matter. Comparing the "cause" of opposing genocide to the "cause" of vegetarianism is a slap in the face to all those people who put their lives on the line to seek justice -- just as the Bible tells us to do.]**

I whine, therefore I am. **[Yes, you do seem to be doing a lot of whining]**

It is noteworthy that there is no risk in today's protests. The new protesters are not accustomed to fighting for their lives but (at most) for their lifestyles. **[Go tell that to the family and friends of Matthew Shepard, you ignorant twit. Sorry, I'm getting more sarcastic as I read. Just refer back to this comment for the next few sentences]** They are not the successors of the Civil Rights marchers in the '50's and early '60's, when protesters met with
dogs, fire hoses, police clubs, and lynchings. Today's protesters are met with cameras and politicians. Furthermore, they're not fighting an upward battle against great odds like the marchers of old but, more likely, riding the crest of a popular wave. Most causes have been pre-approved by media outlets long before they make it to the streets.

Ironically, if protesters were to achieve their goals, they would be at a loss. The end of protest for them would mean the end of life as they knew it. Not so the protesters of the '50's, for whom victory meant the peaceful assimilation into society in order to get on with living.

**[Peaceful, quiet assimilation and getting on with life is just what most of the gay people I know want, and why so many have been fearful of coming out. I wrote a newspaper article about our changing local community a while back, and the growth of the gay community. I interviewed a number of gays and lesbians who were willing to speak. After the article was published, I received anonymous letters from other gays and lesbians, expressing the hurts, rejections, intolerance and hatred they've experienced, and why they would be afraid to be publicly identified as gay/lesbian. They just wanted to be able to go about their jobs and lives without being harassed. As one person said, (I'm paraphrasing, from memory) you could live next door to me, and never know I'm gay. I'm a respectable member of the community; I pay my taxes; I go to work every day. I don't try to turn anyone gay. I just want to live my life without being harassed.}**

Minority members from the early days have their own reasons for jumping on the bandwagon of contemporary protest. Jesse Jackson would be nobody if the dreams of Dr. King became reality, as would be his counterparts in bureaucratic offices throughout the country. **[Here's that tinge of racism again.]**

But what about keepers of the old majority who have bought into the religion of protest? What about silver-haired patricians, limousine liberals from the old school, like Episcopal bishops, who have recently shifted from the country club Right to the country club Left? At what point did they sense it was in their interests to equate the Faith with a cause - any cause - even if it meant throwing overboard the Faith once delivered?
**[Oh, would that I were one of those "limousine liberals" -- my aching bank account would thank me so much. Sorry, Canon. This can't be denigrated to a project for the idle rich. Again, it goes back to a matter of faith, for me and for others, who have risked a lot more than I have.}**

It is a simple historic fallacy that the present ideology of "inclusion" is the natural development of the Christian gospel
contained in the historic creeds and confessions of the churches. **[Why, yes. If you read the Gospels, you find Jesus is an inclusionary sort.]** What's more, everyone knows it. Protest is, among other things, the
moral equivalent to pitching a fit to confuse anyone who would press for a real explanation. **[Unless it's your protest.]**

Keep in mind who is leading the charge in the present debate over sexuality. It is not the "wretched of the earth", but well heeled, over-indulged, upper-middle class advocates of the sexual revolution. Such a "revolution" makes a mockery of earlier revolutions, which its advocates would realize if they did not have so much at stake in their own histrionics. **[Again, oh, would that I were well-heeled. And pushing for civil and human rights in no way makes a mockery of earlier movements]**

What is at stake is maintaining their elitist position in church and society. This is why elitists take up the causes of "little people" everywhere: not to make the causes their own - they couldn't if they wanted to, as any hardened revolutionary would tell them, and as their own front-office activists tell each other in guarded tones around the
water cooler. **[ah, so bitter and jealous. Why does he feel so threatened he has to view gays and lesbians as an angry mob at his gates?]**

The powerful sense the political ground shifting around them. Many fool themselves into thinking that they can maintain their present position in the social pecking order by appeasing the right angry mob. **[??}** But when the ground shifts a little more, and the mob achieves critical mass, the elites will be among the first to be thrown overboard.

Soon Episcopal elites will have served the Revolution in the only real way they can: they have sold their Mother down the river. They have contributed admirably to the destabilizing of Western culture. There's not much more they can contribute, except their money. And even that is running out.

We must forgive the good bishops if their protests become shrill, even on such an unceremonious moral subject. The spirituality of protest is pretty down-to-earth after all. It's about survival. **[I agree, but I'm sure my interpretation is a bit different than he intends his words!]**

--The Rev. Gary L'Hommedieu is Canon in charge of Pastoral Care at St.
Luke's Cathedral in Orlando, Florida.

**[The reverend seems so angry and threatened; pray for him. Also pray for any gays at the cathedral who need pastoral care, if any are left. This is so sad.]**

Letter from the Bishop of Montana

While I'm on the topic of church politics, I'll add this, with thanks to the local Episcopal Voices group. The letter was originally posted on the Diocese of Montana Web site.

A Letter from Bishop Brookhart (Montana) to the Senior Wardens and Priests of the Diocese:

By now, most of the Senior Wardens of the diocese have received a letter from the Anglican Communion Network. It is an invitation to order a DVD from the ACN.

Allow me a few comments, please. The ACN is the child of the American Anglican Congress [sic] (AAC), a group formed ten or fifteen years ago as a needed counterbalance to the apparent hegemony of the "liberal" wing of our Church. But after several years, it moved well beyond that stance.

Today, the AAC and the ACN are actively calling for division and schism in the church. They believe that the church has gone wrong in regard to sexual ethics, so that they need to separate from the Episcopal Church. This stands in clear contradiction to the teaching of the New Testament, where unity is a cardinal virtue for Christians, even in the face of doctrinal and ethical disagreements. Also, the ordained people who joined this chorus of division are in clear contradiction of their ordination vows.

The tone of these organizations has become increasingly angry and judgmental. Again, this is in clear contradiction to the teaching of the New Testament. Anger and judgment are never considered gifts of the Spirit.

Further, these groups have spread misinformation. In the letter you received, you were told that there is good reason to believe that the General Convention will not deal adequately with the Windsor Report. In fact, there is good reason to think just the opposite, based on the Resolutions that the Convention will be asked to pass. Also, the person signing the letter is not a priest of this Church and never has been.

You probably sense that the letter is an attempted end-run around the bishop and clergy of the diocese. The DVD was, in fact, informally shown at the last House of Bishops meeting, and it is a call to schism.

I would recommend that you ignore the letter. But if you do choose to view the DVD, I ask that you do so with an analytical mind, and do not buy its assumptions at face value. Also, I recommend if you or your congregation are a part of these organizations that you give careful consideration to revoking your membership in these groups.

They are not advancing the cause of the Gospel.

Yours in Christ,

+C. Franklin Brookhart


Thank you, Bishop Brookhart.


AAC President David Anderson wrote a reply, posted on the AAC Web site. He whined that Brookhart didn't get the name right -- it's "Council," not "Congress."

Well, who can keep up with all their name changes.

Anderson rather disingenuously said the AAC didn't have anything to do with the manufacture or mailing of the DVDs (and he don't know no nothin' 'bout birthing no schismatic messages).

However, the AAC and ACN are the real defenders of the faith and truth, he told you.

Then he went on to tell a fat one.

"All of us as Episcopalians have already been excommunicated from the largest portion of the Global Communion, and probably no one told you," Anderson said, implying TEC is hiding information from the faithful. He added, "I can tell you that the dire state of affairs in the Episcopal Church is known throughout most of the communion, but is often kept from the people in the pews by bishops and other information gatekeepers for fear of the response."

Nobody's been "excommunicated." (And doesn't Anderson toss around emotionally charged words.) That would be up to the Archbishop of Canterbury. He's the only one who could declare us out of communion, and he has not done so, and doesn't plan to do so.

There are some primates, like Nigeria's Peter Akinola, who won't come to the table with other members of the Communion, but that's a failure of his faith, and a product of his hate and prejudice.

It's hard to pray for them, but I pray for all these bishops and clergy, while I speak out about how they mislead, in all senses of the word, their flocks.

I told you so

This little "I told you so" has been coming on for a little while. I now give into it. This is for all you people who ignored the AAC. This is for all you who thought I was being a little paranoid about the IRD and its intentions. This is for all of you who never heard of Howard Ahmanson back in November 2003, when I wrote this. I was in my old parish. They DID want to go that way.

I hear the rector there is coming back to the light a bit, now.

I hope that intelligence is correct.

Here's the entry:


All it takes...

The idea of any political action group setting up shop within my church is anathema to me. It doesn't matter which side they're on--conservative, liberal, pro- this or anti-that. I don't like them. They're divisive by their very nature. They want you to think your choice is limited to either them or their opposite number, which is, of course, they tell you, evil incarnate. They don't want you to recognize that you can choose neither them nor what they decry; you can choose a third, fourth, fifth, sixth alternative.

There's a group like this in my diocese that I don't like one little bit. They've been sniffing around my parish, in fact, they've got a foot in the door and their fingers clenched around the door frame. I'm resisting them with all my might, along with some other people, but this is a battle I will probably lose because of their clout in the diocese.

This group is the American Anglican Council, or AAC. If you're a member of the United Methodist Church or the Presbyterian Church, read on, though. The same people backing the AAC in the Episcopal Church are backing political groups in these churches, too.

The AAC grew out of a small group of Episcopal bishops who were just plain mad over the ordination of women and all these other newfangled social changes of the last 40 or 50 years. They want to go back to an "orthodox and traditional church" without any of these innovations. They especially don't want any homosexual priests or bishops. That really makes them grind their teeth. And they want to run the show.

By "orthodox and traditional," they mean the (heterosexual) men in charge. Some will allow that women can be deaconesses but not priests, while others feel that all these Godly women deserve to be put out to pasture in ... say the kitchen, or some such other place befitting the fairer sex.

They say they believe in biblical law. I'm not sure which law that is.

Is it the Ten Commandments? Hmmm. That didn't say anything to the effect, "There shall be no female priests among you, nor homosexual ones either."

Okay. Check out the Great Commandment. Whups. That doesn't address these thorny issues either, in fact it tells you to love these people as you love yourselves. Fine, then, let's look at the part in red in the New Testament, what Jesus said. Uh-oh. Why, could it be that Jesus was a gay-lover? He didn't say one thing against them! And he was always talking with women, even some o' them furrin ones. Dang.

Okay, let's do it this way. Let's go all through the Bible, especially chapters like Leviticus and Deuteronomy and Numbers and such, and pick and choose some biblical laws we want to uphold. We can't deal with them all, cause there's like over 600 of 'em, and some we don't care about, like wearing clothes woven of two different fabrics or eating dairy products and meat at the same meal. But we're gonna enforce the laws we like!

Now, anybody who disagrees with us is the Anti-Christ, pure and simple, against families and marriage and the American Way and the War in...er...I mean, the current peacekeeping stabilization mission in Iraq. Heretics and apostates, all of you. You know what the law says to do with you! We can have a BIG bonfire in the church parking lot.

I know, I know. I've taken poetic license. They don't all talk like this. Many are very well-spoken and subtle.

I oppose any political action group trying to flex its muscles in the church, whether it's the AAC or its opposite numbers. Groups with an axe to grind serve the forces of divisiveness. There's just no middle ground, they say.

The truth is, of course, that there is middle ground. There are acres of ground in between. And guess what. You can oppose the ordination of actively or otherwise gay clergy and NOT EVEN BE A MEMBER OF THE AAC!!!! But this is the nature of extreme political groups. You're either a card-carrying member of their camp or you're supporting the enemy. There's no toleration of dialogue, no desire to even attempt any kind of reconciliation or to come to the table together. The AAC position is, "The opposition isn't fit to sit at the table with us. They've already kicked themselves out of the union," and the ever-popular, "The bishops who voted to ratify Gene Robinson should be punished."

The AAC has ties to ultra-right-wing political action groups. In fact, it shares an address and office space with one called the Institute on Religion and Democracy (IRD). This little group of chummy people has strong connections to right-wing military/governmental/industrial interests (and has had, at least since the Reagan era when it was involved in activities in South America), with people like Diane Knippers in charge. Yes, that's the same Diane Knippers who wrote a position paper on just religious causes for war in preparation of our recent excursions into the Middle East.

Then there's Howard F. Ahmanson, Jr., who just a very short time ago espoused the kind of biblical law I was talking about above, including the death penalty for apostasy and disobedient children and all sorts of other things. Of course,
now that he's a big contributor to the AAC and his wife (ever so coincidentally) sits on the board of the IRD, he says he doesn't really believe this any more; after all, they don't want to scare off the more moderate people! Howard F. Ahmanson also has interests in companies that make the majority of computerized voting machines in the country, ES&S and Diebold. Guess who they plan to keep in office next presidential election? Guess which voting machines seem to get funny results and these results can't be validated?

Why would we want all this mess in our churches? Most of don't, I believe.

Why do they want in our churches? These are the mainline protestant churches, the churches from which a large number of our national leaders come. The voice from the pulpits in these churches is respected in this country, even by the majority non-churchgoers. What a political coup to control this voice. Find a divisive wedge like the sexuality issue, then divide and conquer. They plan to do it parish-by-parish in the Episcopal Church, since they've found out they can't break away from the national church and take the real estate with them--it really does belong to the national church. They have similar plans for the Presbyterian and United Methodist Churches.

Do we want to let them do it?

God and Windex

The tape is gone. Hallelujah. I'll explain.

I went into a funk about the time of the 2004 hurricanes. It was the time of awful stuff going on in the family, with the kind of ugliness that occurs when a family finally fractures, after years of slow splitting.

Then the hurricanes came. I striped "X"s of masking tape across all my windows as Charlie came toward us. By the time he was past, Frances was steaming toward us. I left the tape up. Then Jeanne announced her presence, so I left it up yet again.

I was without electric power for three days after Charlie and for six days after Frances. The hot, dank, dark house reinforced my depression and isolation.

Frances bearing down on Florida: enough to depress anyone.

After the hurricanes went by, I tried to remove the tape from the windows. I couldn't get it off, even with a razor blade and solvent. My efforts to scrape it just chipped and scratched the tape, and the solvent left smears on the windows. My attempts just left my hands cramping and scratched, and most of the tape in place. I gave up.

I was in too much of a funk to put a lot of effort into the task.

Every time I looked out the windows, I saw reminders of those dark days.

The funk remained, waxing and waning. My brother's death kept it in place last summer.

The last few months, it's been lifting. So Sunday, when I had an unexpected day off from my part-time job, I stayed home. I (gasp) didn't even go to church. I puttered around the house, to the accompaniment of old movies on TV.

I took an old utility knife, a scrubby pad, Windex, water and paper towels, and attacked windows.

The masking tape had weathered and begun to crumble with time. The knife removed most of the tape. Scrubbing the windows with a pad and Windex took off the remains.

Scrubbing was therapeutic.

Just as Brother Lawrence taught, the chore's simple, repetitive movements freed my mind to pray, to talk to God and receive his ministry. Old crud came off the windows, and off my shoulders and soul. My clothes got sweaty and dirty as I labored in the sun on the windows' exteriors, but I felt cleaner.

I stood in the yard and admired the large living-room windows, now unmarred by tape, unscarred by ugliness. They reflected the sun perfectly.

I stood in the living room-dining room and admired the light sparkling through the windows.

This may seem like a small thing, but victory over that tape is victory indeed, and a healing. I'm sure there's a metaphor in here about how time heals, and how hurts weather and fade with time -- with God's grace -- and he empowers us to remove the scars completely.

Thank you, God.

Light of God, always shine through these windows. Shine on me and my household.

Politicat speaks

Donald Rumsfeld isn't a bad boy, he's just misunderstood.

Update 04-20-06
Politicat spouts off some more:

It seems the Preznit has used up some of that "political capital" he bragged about after the election. Even that catbird Rove may have his wings clipped -- a little. Do ya think he'll really quit calling the tune?

Embracing evil

Warning: this post contains graphic descriptions of violence.

I don't talk much about my day job, working for a small newspaper, but l've covered a big story in these parts and nationally, from its inception: the murders of six young people in a house one night in Deltona, FL, in August 2004.

Five of these people were living in the house, sharing expenses, and another one was visiting overnight, so he could hitch a ride to a new job the next morning.

They were beaten to pulps with aluminum baseball bats. They were stabbed. Their throats were slit posthumously.

One girl's body (apparently she and here boyfriend were the major targets) was raped with a baseball bat. It took tissue samples to made a positive ID on her, she was so badly bludgeoned.

Her little dachshund's body was found next to her. His head and snout had been crushed -- stomped.

That's it in a nutshell. There's some other gruesome stuff I've read in police reports or heard about. Enhanced details that may or not be true, and no need to list them here.

Four men are charged with the deeds, with going in in the dark hours of the night, surprising the sleeping victims and killing them.

I'll say up front, yes, I've read enough police reports, read enough depositions and heard enough witnesses to believe they are guilty.

Victorino, (I'm not going to use their first names) the defendant tagged as the ringleader, was 27 at the time, and the others were around 18.

The motive? This is what investigators and witnesses said:

(1) The main victim made Victorino mad, when she called the cops to get him and some of his friends out of her grandmother's vacation house, where they were squatting or staying. There's some dispute about whether she allowed them in, initially.

Victorino wasn't there to deal with the cops, because when deputies responded to the grandmother's house, he was in jail, arrested for beating the crap out of someone else. His record includes beating yet another man so badly, the victim required 20-some plates in his head. Victorino shoved a cane or bat down one of these victim's throat.

Victorino bonded out of jail a few days before the murders. He shouldn't have been allowed to post bond, because he was on probation for earlier offenses. An arrest is automatic grounds for termination of probation.

(2) The main victim took his XBox, clothing, and possibly a small stash of cocaine. Investigators denied the case involved any drugs, but one acquaintance said Victorino had a little in the house, which ended up at the victims' house.

According to law enforcement reports and the State Attorney's office, Victorino recruited the three younger men to go in with him. A fourth left town before the murders, afraid of Victorino.

Victorino has never confessed. All three co-defendants confessed initially, with resulting legal wrangling over the confessions. One confessed and later agreed to testify at the trial, in exchange for a life sentence instead of the death penalty.

Flash forward

I watched a joyous baptism at church Saturday night. As we cited the words of the baptismal covenant, I thought about the case.

"Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?" Fr. J asked.

The candidate answered, "I renounce them."

The acts committed against those six people were an affirmation of evil.

I don't understand the thought processes of someone capable of participating in an act like this.

The ringleader's mother (who always tried to get her sonny out of jail, from the time he was a teenager) talked of a caretaker's son sexually abusing her boy when he was a toddler.

But what makes someone commit these acts of violence, and have no remorse over them? Who seemingly has no conscience? No feelings for the victims or the victims' families, whose lives he's dragged through hell?

I've read the theories about psychopathic personalities. A major indicator seems to be repeated abuse, as an infant or very young child, generally at the hands of a parent.

That can't explain it all, or everyone who was so abused would turn into a murdering monster, and they don't, thank God.

The other day, I saw a little dachshund trotting alongside his master. There can hardly be a more defenseless creature. Yet the one is this case was stomped to death by someone 20 times his size.

The deliberate killing of such a little hostage to fate adds an exclamation point of horror to the already horrific.

The ringleader-defendant has steadfastly denied even being there the night of the murders. He's been in a jail in a neighboring county to keep him away from his codefendants, whose confessions all pointed at him as the one to organize, plan and lead the charge to murder.

And neither do I understand what would make these young men, the codefendants, who seemed to be little more than acquaintances, go along with this deliberate, planned act of murder and mayhem.

Did these young men think some of Victorino's strength and power would rub off on them? Victorino's a big man -- 6 feet, 5 inches, 270 pounds. "Wimpy-looking little guys" better fits the description of these three.

Does Victorino have some charisma that isn't apparent to me? Did he, like Manson, make these young men feel they belonged? That they were somebody, with him?

They seem to be purposeless young men, who floated around town, working a bit here and there, maybe selling a little pot or crack, before the murders.

I wonder what they think about now, in their jail cells. Do they wake up cold and sweaty with nightmares, hearts pounding? Do they recoil in horror at their memories? Are they sick and full of remorse?

Or are they just surprised they were caught?


***
Jury selection started on the case, and the judge had to grant a change of venue, after jury selection went to pieces in this county.

A disciple's tale

I wrote this story a couple of years ago, in several parts. I put them together here, for the close of Holy Week.

This disciple may soon have some new adventures.

Who will wash these feet?

Feeling pissy, Satan asks, "For heaven's sake. If you're God, how can you demean yourself with their smelly, stinky feet ?"

Jesus looks at him with pity, then says, "Humility fosters love, both from the giver and the recipient."

"Oh, fine." Satan says. "Just continue with this 'humble servant' bit. See where it gets you."

"You will see," replies Jesus. He sighs. "Most of the time, my disciples don't get it, either."

***
It had been a long week. Jesus came riding into the city as an honored prophet and many things happened. Many accepted Jesus as Lord and some continued their disbelief. Jesus had been saying some puzzling things that we did not understand, but tonight, we would relax and have this supper together.

It is the time of the Passover. As it is written in the Book of Genesis, "This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance."

It is the custom to bathe before coming to a banquet; therefore, we are clean except for our feet, which get very dirty on the streets and roads. Usually, a servant will bring water to wash the guests' feet before the banquet.

We came in, we disciples, and found our accustomed seats. We said prayers and sang songs just as we do every time we come together at the Lord's Table. Nothing seemed different tonight than any other night, except that Judas was gone, and except that tonight, there was no one to bring water to wash our feet, and no one volunteered. I thought about it, but didn't want to appear lower than my actual station, for I was a disciple, not a servant.

We proceeded with the meal. I was careful to keep my dirty feet out of sight. They discomforted me. I saw Jesus get up and wrap a towel around his waist.

I remember...

He started to wash his disciples' feet. I drew back in embarrassment. I heard Peter protest, then acquiesce. I hang back in confusion, hoping to avoid notice.

"Why then, Lord, are you now kneeling in front of me with a basin, a pitcher and a towel, like a servant? Are you going to wash my feet, too?"

"No, I can't allow that. I can't let you be like a servant to me. "

I was shocked at the thought of it.

My feet were dirty. They were caked with dirt, for I had been on the road this day. My toenails were thick and uneven. The nails and cuticles of my toes were grimy, and my feet covered in thick calluses and dry, cracked, peeling skin. And dirt.

Lord, I thought, I can't let you look upon these feet, much less touch them. You were not meant for this.

These ugly feet were no fit offering to the Lord. I kept them tucked back, hidden from his sight.

Kneeling, Jesus looked up at me.

I implored, "Ask something else of me, Lord, and I will give it, I will do it."

I saw the love in his eyes; he was filled with love for me, and I was smitten in return.

I knew he understood my embarrassment, my pride that made me want to hide these unattractive members from his sight. But he already knew. He had seen -- there was nothing of me or in me he hadn't seen.

He looked at me through those loving eyes, and I began to understand. Like Peter, now I wanted to be washed all over. I wanted whatever would make me more worthy. But this is what he required tonight.

Hesitantly, I pulled my feet from their hiding place.

The water sparkled as he poured it over my feet. I heard a soft murmuring and splashing of water.

Layer by the layer, he washed the grime away. The water was soothing, relaxing. I felt the blood moving through my feet, my hands, my heart. I floated into this renewal.

Jesus' hands were healing. He holds my feet as he carefully dries them with the towel. My feet are clean and warm.

Who am I that my Lord should tend to me as a servant?

No one. It is his love, his love only, that makes me worthy.

I am filled with a deep peace.

Thank you Lord, for this gift.

This is what happened with the Lord on the night of Passover. He gave us a mandate to love one another, to be servants to each other. He gave us the example of humble service that we are to follow.

What I received from the Lord, I also hand on to you. Let me look upon you with Christ's eyes, see you with Christ's love, treat you with Christ's humility. Allow me now to follow Christ's example of servanthood. Please allow me to wash your feet.

We will be blessed if we do these things for each other.

Saturday morning

Where is my God?

How can it be that my Lord is dead? I thought this cruel execution would be stopped. I prayed for it to be stopped. Yet my Lord is dead.

My God, have you forsaken me?

I am desolate with grief.

The people on the streets say, "Where is your Lord now?" and I run.

I run like a dog who has lost its master, loping this way then that, pawing the ground, panting with thirst.

I stop in a grove of olives. I rend my shirt. I claw at my chest until I see drops of bright, red blood fall to the ground. Yet there is no atonement for what we have done.

My God, my God, have you left us? We have broken the covenant You made with us. Have you abandoned us?

The sunlight is dull and wan and there are no stars.

I cannot sleep. Oh God, grant me death, too. My face is stiff with shed tears that bring no comfort and still I cannot sleep.

I stumble back into the city, avoiding the soldiers and the mockers, and ask where they have taken my Lord. I find the tomb. I sit and lean against the stone wall.

Was it only two nights ago that we broke bread? You washed my feet. I look at them now and they are filthy and bloody.

My God, where have you gone?

I will wait here for whatever is to come. I lean against the cold stone, and at last, I sleep.

Saturday night, Sunday morning
He Lives

Listen to my story:

I slept against the hard stone of the tomb of my Lord, Jesus Christ, who had been crucified and buried. A couple of guards came by and poked at me, but I refused to move. I was too exhausted and too grieved to care. If they took my life, so much the better. I no longer needed it.

I went back to sleep.

"Disciple, wake up. Arise," came a voice.

I floated upward to consciousness from a very deep sleep.

"Awake. Your Lord needs you."

A creature stood before me, luminous in the dark. It was beautiful, the creature, but very strange. Almost like a man, but not. I had trouble seeing it properly. Its glow made it hard for me to focus my eyes on it.

The world was moving in odd ways.

"Don't go fainting on me. You have work to do."

The creature touched the stone in front of the tomb. It rumbled away from the entrance to the cave.

Listen. I saw the risen Lord.

He walked toward me. He was beautiful, so beautiful. He glowed with a luminosity much greater than that of the creature beside me.

It was Him.

I could see the empty funeral linens behind Him.

He was dressed in white. He moved with a fluid grace. I don't know how this could be, but it was.

It was the risen Lord, shining in glory. Listen to the Good News.

I remembered what He had said about the three days that I hadn't understand.

With one scarred hand, He touched my forehead. Peace came over me.

"Tell the others when they come. Disciple, you will make disciples. You will baptize in my name. Tell them your story."

I could only say, yes. I knelt. He put His hand on the top of my head for a moment, then walked past me in radiance.

My clothes were now a beautiful white. There was no wound on my chest. My feet were clean and my skin was as fine as a child's.

He has done many miraculous things. But the most miraculous is that He lives. He will never die again.

"Wait here for the others," said the creature who had awakened me. He could only have been an angel.

I sat on top of the stone, waiting and examining my new clothes and my new skin, when the Roman guards came back. I enjoyed their confusion over the open tomb.

"Are you looking for Jesus of Nazareth?" I asked in my best and most holy of voices. I chortled at the guards' confusion and alarm.

They looked into the cave and then looked at me in my new appearance with their mouths open, not recognizing the disciple they had tried to roust a little earlier.

"He is not here. He is gone. An angel came and moved the stone with one finger. Now He is risen and He is gone. He is the Lord God. " I was laughing, holding my sides. I realized: this is joy, come back into the world.

"He came to live among us. He died, but He rose again. He will never forsake us." I lifted my arms. "Share my joy!"

Share the Good News! Christ is resurrected. He will lead us. He is the Way, the Truth and the Life. Follow Him. He reigns in mercy and love.

The guards backed away and ran up the path from the tomb.

I sat rocking myself, singing, praying and praising and laughing through the night. I was overcome with joy. I waited until I saw Mary Magdalene on the path, then I jumped down from the stone, landing lightly on my feet, ready to tell her the Good News.

Listen, all of you, to my testimony and we shall make disciples of many, for Jesus Christ is alive and He brings life in abundance, life everlasting, and the peace that is beyond all understanding.

His goodness and mercy will be with us forever.

Now I remember

During the dog days of August, I sometimes wonder what on earth made me move to Central Florida.

The weather this time of year makes me remember why.

It's glorious. You can walk out the door in the mornings to cool, fresh air. The sky is so translucently blue you can see through the layers of atmosphere all the way to the rim of space.


As Cat Stevens sang,
"Morning has broken, like the first morning,
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird...

I snapped this shot of trees and skies next to the church Sunday morning. There was even a blackbird, (ok, maybe it was a crow) but I wasn't fast enough to capture it on film.

We've been having the kind of days that make you feel good all over -- highs in the low- to mid-80s, lows in the mid-60s -- without a cloud in the sky. A soft breeze keeps the afternoons from feeling hot.




This little pond is near my house.

The down side is, it's been too dry. Hard to believe, but we're at a higher risk for fires than we were in 1998, when Central Florida went up in smoke. It's supposed to rain this weekend (thank you, Lord, and please keep the fires away).

In the meantime, I'm just going to enjoy these days. August will come soon enough. It will be swelteringly hot, muggy, buggy, and the height of hurricane season. A layer of heat haze will obscure the sky. Again, I'll wonder what on earth made me move to Central Florida.

I'm sorry, so sorry

I hated to do it. It's an annoyance that causes me to heave a sigh of exasperation when I encounter it on someone else's blog. It's the dreaded word verification.

An annoying e-mail spammer was peppering this blog with crappy "comments" that were actually links to a commercial Web site, the better to rip you off. They were entering their X@#!!! faster than I could delete them.

I bowed to the envitable.

I'm so sorry you have to go through this extra step to post comments on this blog. I really, really want your comments. I like dialogues.

I don't even mind plugs for your indvidual blogs in your comments about something you've read. That's all part of blogging.

Being abused by ripoff spammers isn't.

Please post your real and genuine comments.

Simon of Cyrene
A Lenten meditation

Simon of Cyrene




Not long ago, I was talking with a friend at work about Jesus’ final journey through Jerusalem. I mentioned Simon of Cyrene. Though my friend is a Christian, he was unfamiliar with this character, who makes a brief appearance in the Gospel accounts of the crucifixion.

As the Roman soldiers led Jesus to the cross, after beating him and mocking him, Jesus stumbled under the heavy weight of the cross. As the Gospel writers explain,
"A certain man from Cyrene, Simon, the father of Alexander and Rufus, was passing by on his way in from the country, and they forced him to carry the cross." (Mark 15:21)
"And as they came out, they found a man of Cyrene, Simon by name: him they compelled to bear his cross." (Matthew 27:32)

No one knows much about Simon. Cyrene was a city in northern Africa, so Simon may have been an African Jew.
Mark writes of Simon’s sons, Rufus and Alexander, as if first-century Christians were familiar with them. It is entirely possible Simon became a Christian — one of the first black saints in Christian history — and his sons became well-known in the early Christian movement.

We can say for sure Simon of Cyrene’s encounter with the Messiah was unexpected. Simon was there, and he was called into service to assist Jesus. He did so.

Simon literally picked up the cross, and followed his Lord.

How much are we like this Simon — busy with the routine of ordinary life, minding our own business — when we run smack into the Lord?

It may not be at the time we planned. It may not be convenient. It may not be pretty. But the time is of his choosing, not ours, and there are no “chance” encounters with Christ.

How many chances do we have to better know the risen Christ, but ignore them? How many opportunities do we have to do the work of the Lord, but pass them up?

Dear Lord, give me the grace to find moments of encounter with you. Give me a willing spirit and a strong back to do your work.

Pray hard and get rich?

There's an interesting post at The Cat's Cradle, called "Thoughts on Prayer and Prosperity."

She gently takes the preachers of the gospel of prosperity to task on their "believe it and pray it enough and you'll get what you want" philosophy.

Amen, sister, and I'll put it a little more strongly.

This is a false gospel that can turn people away from God, when the results of their prayers aren't what they envisioned.

This false gospel can lead us into a wrong relationship with God. It can lead into the trap of making prayers of supplication only -- praying for those material things we want -- instead of praying for God's will for our lives to be revealed to us, and instead of developing a relationship with God through our prayer life.

The gospel-of-prosperity people have take the Prayer of Jabez out of context.

Praying that the Lord's hand be with me is different than praying for a new car or to get rich. Asking him to "enlarge my borders" is more about survival than wealth. About feeding one's family and protecting them.

I too, have held a lotto ticket in my hand as I've prayed for quick financial relief, and will again. But God answers prayers in his way, not ours.

He's kept me in my home, he's kept me fed and clothed, he's kept my old klunker running. He's maintained my health. Thanks be to God. He'll be there to help me through if I should lose these earthly and perishable things.

He has provided for me.

When Jesus said to pray "Give us this day our daily bread" rather than "Give us lots of gold coins to buy lots of bread," I take it to mean we should be satisfied with provision, and not worry about storing up riches.

He never promised his disciples an easy life, or a comfortable life, or a rich life.

Would the preachers of the gospel of prosperity say that Peter fell out of the Lord's favor, since Peter ended his life upside down on a cross? On the contrary, Jesus said, "Pick up your cross and follow me." Peter did, and literally gave his life for the Lord.

Peter had his eyes fixed on a greater prize than comfort or prosperity.

Just as rain falls on the just and unjust, so does prosperity. Some of the faithful will garner wealth, some won't. Sometimes it seems as though the wicked prosper unfairly -- in truth, they do.

Not that I have anything against winning the lotto. If I, in faith, should ever win that lotto prize, or any form of prosperity, I have to remember it belongs to the Lord, and use it as he wants.

Fisherman Jon

There is nothing my boarder, Jon, likes better than fishing. He'll head for the intercoastal waterways and estuaries to fish, crab and sometimes shrimp, at the crack of dawn.

I've been the recipient of his fishing bounty on a number of occasions. Now that he's renting a room here, I'm benefiting even more from his fishing trips.
Jon (he's in the black t-shirt, and his mom, Sande, and his brother, David, are pictured with him) grilled the drum fish he's holding in this photo, and served it to me and his friend, Joel, a few nights ago. He's brought in a variety of local fish.

In the fall, he brought me blue crab.

I went crabbing with him a couple of times. I used the old-fashioned technique -- luring crabs by dangling a tempting piece of chicken in the water, then scooping up with a net unwary crabs that came to devour the chicken -- thereby proving I am smarter than some crustaceans. Jon, more professional about it, used crab traps.

My dog, Betsy, is a fisherman's dog. She waited anxiously as Jon prepared, seasoned and grilled the drum, and Jon gave her a portion, too.

Eating this delicious fish made me think of the biblical accounts of the Galilean fishermen grilling and eating their catch. They didn't have aluminum foil or prepared seasonings, but in all, the experience is close, and the fish was shared in fellowship.

I must say, Jon made a better haul than this modern-Galilean fisherman.

New look

This blog was looking worn and tired. I chose a new template to give it a different look. Any comments?

And, I can't figure out how to post a photo from my desktop to the member profile -- it wants a URL I tried going to Picasso/Hello for Blogger, but it seems to want not Mac, but windows. Anybody have any suggestions for an easy and cost-free method to do this?

A Word to the Church

This is the pastoral letter resulting from the House of Bishops Meeting at Kanuga, N.C. May God help us heal and truly recognize the wonderful diversity within the church.

House of Bishops Meeting at Kanuga
March 2006

In this Lenten season we greet you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. We write to you from the Kanuga Conference Center in Hendersonville, North Carolina, where we are gathered for our spring meeting. In Lent God calls us to examine our hearts and renew our companionship with the One who offered himself for the salvation of the world. We are very conscious of the larger context in which we gather and deliberate: in a country where the disparity between rich and poor persists, where we struggle to rebuild lives and communities along the Gulf Coast, a country whose daughters and sons are serving at war overseas. Increasingly we are aware that we represent not a single national church, but one richly comprising congregations in fifteen countries. We wish to share with you something of our journey with Christ during these days of our meeting together.
The unity, mission, and faithfulness of the Church are matters very much in our prayers. We strongly affirm our desire for the Episcopal Church to remain a constituent member of the Anglican Communion, and we recognize that the gift of communion requires generosity and restraint on the part of all. We were blessed by the presence and presentation of our guest from the Church of England, the Right Reverend Michael Langrish, Bishop of Exeter, who encouraged and challenged us in respect to our relationship with the larger Anglican Communion. On behalf of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Ms. Sue Parks, the Manager of the Lambeth Conference, briefed us on the plans for the Lambeth Conference 2008.

We believe that the most effective way to foster communion is to be present for each other, as often as possible, so that we may learn from each other, be corrected by each other, and discern the mind of Christ together. In this regard we were encouraged by the report of the Special Commission on the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. We welcomed the Commission's overview of the report that it is preparing in order to assist the General Convention in addressing the critical issues and concerns raised in the Windsor Report, in the Primates' Communiqué, and by the Anglican Consultative Council. The report, which will be completed and issued early in April, affirms our commitment to the Anglican Communion, and will include a number of resolutions to be proposed for consideration by the General Convention. We commend to the prayerful reflection and legislative process of the General Convention this report of the Special Commission as a way forward in faithfulness to our Lord, to the Episcopal Church, and to the Anglican Communion.

A significant experience of our meeting was the opportunity to have a conversation with the seven current nominees for Presiding Bishop and Primate of the Episcopal Church. All the nominees listened carefully and responded with their own insights and perspectives. Our evening together gave testimony to God's blessing upon the life of the Church, and proved helpful as we begin to prepare for the election of the next Presiding Bishop. We are deeply appreciative of the generosity of these our colleagues in offering themselves for this discernment process.

We also benefited enormously from a day spent considering the nature and purposes of biblical interpretation in hearing God's living Word. Our guests for this day, eminent Anglican biblical theologians originally from Kenya, India, and Hong Kong, and the United States, provided us with a profound glimpse of the contexts in which the Word of God comes to life throughout the world.


As part of our continuing commitment to work against the sin of racism, and much informed by what we have learned about ourselves in the wake of last year's hurricanes, we developed a new Pastoral Letter to be read in all congregations. We also wrestled with the grave difficulties regarding immigration and the injustices facing those who come to the United States. Additionally we considered important studies relating to the opportunities and challenges of evangelism and church growth today. As we prepare for General Convention, we commit ourselves to continued prayer and labor for justice for all of God's people, for the unity of the Church, for the faithfulness of the Church, for the mission of God.

At the heart of our meeting was a retreat led by our Presiding Bishop, the Most Reverend Frank T. Griswold, III. Our time together in prayer was deeply enriched by his profound gifts as a spiritual guide and teacher. This occasion manifested his depth of conviction and generosity of heart, which have so characterized his years as Presiding Bishop and meant so much to so many of us.

As a result of our time together we are better prepared to join at General Convention our sisters and brothers of the House of Deputies, whose presiding officer, the Very Reverend George L. Werner, also addressed us. Together we will journey with hearts confident in God, eager to seek the Holy Spirit's guidance in serving Christ's mission of drawing all things to God.

"For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace" (Isaiah 55:12).
***

Along with this letter, came a pastoral letter on the "Sin of Racism." It reads, in part,

With God's help, we will:

renew our commitment to the 1994 pastoral letter, "The Sin of Racism"; take responsibility to expose, dismantle and heal those situations of injustice based on racism; seek forgiveness for our lack of charity and consciousness in recognizing those situations which degrade the image of God in our neighbors; make amends for our undeserved position and benefit as a result of unjust situations both now and in the past; empower all members of God's human family, that they may live into the fullness of what God intends; encourage the larger church to continue and expand its work of education, spiritual formation, and anti-racism training, that all might discover the riches of God's diverse creation, especially in those who differ from us; advocate for the implementation of the Millennium Development Goals by the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society, our respective dioceses, the parishes which comprise them, and our governments, as well as our own households, that God's desire may become increasingly evident for all of humanity; recruit and empower people of all races and ethnic origins as leaders in our church, and as members of all boards, agencies, commissions, and committees; dedicate equitable resources for all races and national origins in the funding of theological education for all ministries, lay and ordained; advocate for continued response to the sinful legacy of slavery; expose situations of environmental racism and classism which poison and threaten the poorest among us, and seek justice for those communities; and advocate for compassionate care of the stranger in our midst, and demand just immigration policies.

Amen. And amen. [note: the bolding is mine]

I wonder if all the bishops are aware how easily the word "homophobia" can be substituted for the word ""racism?"

Maybe this at least says something about progress we've made in race relations. I wonder how acceptable many of the bishops would have found this letter 50 or 60 years ago?

Three years later

Kudos to a church friend who sent me a link to the FAIR Web site, where notable media comments from early in the Iraq war have been collected, so that the aforementioned media might eat crow.

It would be funny how the media whores have groveled at the feet of this administration, if it weren't such a serious threat to our freedom.


It would be funny to watch our jingoist, wanna-be-a-wartime president wearing pseudo-military garb and strutting around as he uttered his pseudo-macho pronouncements, if it wasn't such a threat to the safety of our country, the Middle East and the world.




Bush braves a trip to an aircraft carrier in dangerous, terrorist-infested waters off Southern California to tell the sailors the war is all over, May 1, 2003.
























This is the real deal in Iraq.


Someone asked me a while back whatever did the prez do to make me so mad at him. Zeesh. Now, it sounds like he wants to invade Iran, too.

Anyway, here's a couple of quotes from the FAIR Web site, with a link to it, in case your stomach can take more:

"Tommy Franks and the coalition forces have demonstrated the old axiom that boldness on the battlefield produces swift and relatively bloodless victory. The three-week swing through Iraq has utterly shattered skeptics' complaints."
(Fox News Channel's Tony Snow, 4/27/03)

"We're proud of our president. Americans love having a guy as president, a guy who has a little swagger, who's physical, who's not a complicated guy like Clinton or even like Dukakis or Mondale, all those guys, McGovern. They want a guy who's president. Women like a guy who's president. Check it out. The women like this war. I think we like having a hero as our president. It's simple. We're not like the Brits."
(MSNBC's Chris Matthews, 5/1/03)


"He looked like an alternatively commander in chief, rock star, movie star, and one of the guys."
(CNN's Lou Dobbs, on Bush's 'Mission Accomplished' speech, 5/1/03)


FAIR (Fairness and Accuracy in Reporting)

Secrets of the heart

Yesterday I was talking with a young woman who has a wonderful gift from God.

She said she hasn't been using that gift much lately, because she doesn't feel she's living out the Christian message she portrays to the world. She's been sinning, she told me. Doing what she wants to do, instead of what she feels God wants her to do. Miserable, but not repentant enough to change.

I can't imagine her having such a terrible weight on her conscience.

I see nothing but kindness and Christian love coming out of this young woman. I don't know what her sin is, and don't really need to know. I imagine she's someone who's really hard on herself (I spot it, 'cause I got it).

My advice to her was to write what she really feels, and tell God. You can't go around pretending everything's hunky-dory, when you're miserable inside -- how can you have a relationship with God when you're pretending?

God will honor her feelings, and what she tells him, spoken in truth. That's my belief.

The truth will help her, and I can see her helping others who struggle.

A glimpse into the many-chambered heart of another is amazing. How many carry around this pain and negativity, without any outward sign?

It reminds of a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson I read in school, many years ago:

Richard Cory

WHENEVER Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean favored, and imperially slim.


And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich -- —yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.
***

I pray this young woman will keep talking, first, to God, then to me or someone else. I pray for her healing, and that she will use the gifts God gave her. I pray she will see herself as she is: beloved of God.

Elvis Rex

Yeah, that's me, the big black-and-white Tuxedo cat, in the photo to the left. They call me Elvis. They also call me Shamu. I answer to anything, especially the sound of the treat bag opening.



Remember the story about the 33-pound cat? Well, he's only got about 12 pounds on me. If the UnSaintly One would only feed me five pounds of chicken a day, like that monster gets, I'd easily pass that glorycat.

Anyway. I figured if Jack the Brat (the little pipsqueak next to me in the photo above) can write blog entries, so can I. Politicat, he calls himself. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Then, I'm Domesticat -- I like laying around the house. Or just call me Elvis Rex.

I'm going to update you on things around the household.

Things are changing around here. The UnSaintly One is renting out the spare room in a desperate attempt to make ends meet. There's a roomer named Jon. We had seen him around here a few times before -- he used to work with the UnSaintly One, and came over for dinner once in a while.

Jon's a young kit, around 24 human years. He's pining a bit for his sweetie; she's in Switzerland on some kind of work-study-school thing.

I like Jon. He calls me a Jellical cat, and he scratches my tummy and ears. He feeds me treats, too. Oh, Jon's nice to Jack and Betsy, and he takes Betsy for walks. But I'm his favorite.

The UnSaintly One's been needing some help with things around the house, and Jon's very handy. He's getting her computer set up, too, with better bells and whistles. You'll be seeing more pix on the blog, now.

So, it's pretty cool around here.

The UnSaintly is also starting a weekend job doing cooking demos. She has lovely aprons to wear, and she likes cooking and talking to people, so that should be cool, too.

As long as it keeps me in kibble, treats and litter, I say!

More to come. Signing off, now.

Elvis Rex

Dear Lord, please look after this household, and bless Jon, Elvis, Jack, Betsy and me. Keep each of us safe and well, and look after this house, and keep it a place of blessing. Thank you for all your gifts, and give us hearts to appreciate them. In the name of your son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, I pray. -- UnSaintly Pat

Politicat

"I take on the fat cats and run with the big dogs."


The UAE: our new best friends

The former head of the Sept. 11 commission said the deal "never should have happened."

Bush's national security adviser, Stephen Hadley, said there was no going back on the deal.

So it sounds like a done deal to turn over six major ports to Dubai Ports World of the United Arab Emirates. This is great. Turning over ports like Baltimore and Miami to foreign interests.

The administration defends itself by saying critics are just anti-Arab bigots, and these nice UAE people aren't like those war-mongering Iraqi citizens we're blowing the crap out of. Just because UAE honchos went hunting with Osama Bin Laden after Bin Laden declared war on U.S. citizens.

Noooo, the UAE will always be a friend to the U.S., no matter what happens over there.

The xenophobia card coming from the administration that wages war against Arabs in the name of protecting us against terrorism, when it's really waging war for oil and political and financial gain, killing thousands of Arabs in the process? Really.

Gimmee a break.

It is unwise, or let me be blunt -- stupid and mindless -- to turn over control of our ports, our interstate system, our railway systems or our airport systems to any foreign interests. I can tell you, I wouldn't be that impressed if the French, those pro-U.S. Europeans, were taking over, either.

The trouble with a Middle Eastern group taking over is simply the instability in the region. I, Politicat, recently time-traveled back to the time we were best buds with Iran, and we loved the Shah. Remember that? Remember how fast things change over there?

U.S. relations with other countries, and other interests, can change PDQ, this cat tells you.

So we give away control of a top national-security concern, like our ports? To ANY corporate interests owned by foreign governments?

Just because its happened before, doesn't mean we should allow it to continue. Other countries are smart enough to be extremely leery of letting (read this as not letting it happen) foreign interests buy up property, businesses and infrastructures within their countries. We need to wise up.

And the administration hardly knew anything about it. That's funny in itself -- our antiterrorist gurus don't know about control of our ports being sold off?

Yeah, right.

I wonder how much Bush and Cheney friends will make off the deal? Politicat's sensitive nose detects the stink of filthy lucre changing hands.

What's next? Selling Dulles International Airport operations to the North Koreans?

Hmmm. Better look -- maybe they already own it.

Theological ruminations

I've been reading the lively theological discussion in the comments at Father Jake Stops the World. Trying to sort out what it means to be a Christian, how do we interpret and apply the creeds, and how do we deal with people who hold different (and sometimes antagonistic) views.

Phew. Difficult stuff, and the stuff of decisions about trying to live out faith here in the ultraconservative ol' Diocese of Central Florida.

If I'd been closer to a diocesan border, and there were a more moderate diocese I could have slipped into a couple of years ago, when the s..t hit the fan, I would have been out of here.

There wasn't, so I didn't. I could have driven a bit farther than I do now, to a more liberal parish, but I found myself drawn to the Church of Open Arms.

I was hurting and suspicious when I went there, after the trials in my old parish. The biggest draw to the parish was the assisting priest, who was my spiritual director. She's left now. (sigh)

The rector probably isn't a whole lot less conservative than the one in my old parish, but he voted against joining the AAC, after hearing some of the hate-filled messages of its proponents.

He set up a beautiful memorial service, full of bells and whistles, for my gay brother, the one who died last summer.

The rector had never met my brother. My brother never found his faith, and didn't attend church. I told the rector the circumstances about my brother* up front, and the priest didn't miss a beat. He lent his beautiful voice and music to the service, while the assisting celebrated. He arranged for chalice bearers and the whole nine yards. A number of parishioners, who had never met my brother, either, attended the service.

This may strike some of you as nothing out of the ordinary, but it is, in my experience.

I remember the service given for a family member of some friends of mine in the old parish. The departed wasn't gay, but was a drug user who died in unpleasant circumstances. Nobody worthy of concern, it seemed.

The rector barely even showed up for the service. There was nada but a few words, then the departed's ashes were stuck in the ground. I was the only parishioner except family members to show up.

What a difference in attitude.

Every time I've gotten mad at the rector of the Church of Open Arms since, which has been several times (but I think he's pretty much blithely unaware of it), I remember his kindness in all of that. I'm sure even some of the parishioners came to the service at his hint that I could use the support.

So here I sit, in an ultraconservative diocese, in this mixed-bag parish with a conservative at the helm.

Thankfully, I've haven't run into anyone in this parish who spouts hate. That's made it easier to be here.

So, getting back to the comments at Father Jake's site, there is a mystery to faith.

I certainly don't understand God's workings. As painful as the separation from my old parish was, God put me someplace better, where I think/hope/pray I'm growing in my faith.

When I look into the faces of most conservatives in the parish, I see Christ's love, and understand He wants to work in and through us all. Even those with whom we disagree.

I thank God I haven't encountered hate-spewers in this parish. Maybe we can truly become the church of open arms.

I only pray I have enough Christ in me to maintain this quest for Christ, for as a parish, we're going to be facing some really hard times and choices. Unspoken prejudices will come to the surface.

Can I keep in mind that those who hold these prejudices are God's children, with spots in them as yet unhealed, look for Christ in them, and reflect Christ's love to them?

My plan is to leave if this diocese leaves the Episcopal Church. but even I'm wise enough to know God sometimes has other plans. If so, she'll have to fill me with love -- which is what I want, in any case.

The nature of God is a mystery, and that mystery touches us each in unique ways.

There's no doubt in my mind that my brother is with Christ now.

(*my brother was gay. What killed him, though, was alcoholism. He drank himself to death, and he died of internal bleeding related to cirrhosis of the liver. I applaud Bishop Robinson checking in for help, and pray for his recovery. I tried to get my brother into a residential-treatment program a couple of years ago, but he resisted, even though he'd already had a bleed. My brother just got angry with my pushing.)

My belief is that when Christ judges us, it's more of a discernment, and a healing of the spirit, which my brother and all of us need. After this, only a few truly hard-hearted ones could resist him.

I believe she's the God of inclusion, who wants each one of us, passionately.

Why? A mystery.

Ours is the God of many chances, and those chances extend even beyond death. Christ overcame even that.

Our strict orothdox brethren are probably branding me a heretic. So be it. Jesus loved my brother, and me, and all of us, in our hurt and hurting -- enough to die for us.

He loved me first, and I love him passionately.

Do you think he's looking for reasons to turn us back from the pearly gates? Or that he requires us to sign a confessional? Oh, he's so much more than we want to make him.

Politicat

I'm introducing a guest columnist named Politicat. He likes to tell it the way it is, at least the way he thinks it is. He's definitely opinionated. He's also a cat. I'll let him fill you in on the rest.
-- UnSaintly Pat

Politicat

I'm Politicat. I leave belly-scratch-loving domesticats in the dust.

Politicat speaks

Yeah, I'm Politicat. I take on the fat cats and run with the big dogs.

Now, my mistress, the UnSaintly one, she's a little mild, if you know what I mean. I guess it's that trying to be a Christian thing. Not me--I'm no fangs barred! If I think something's funny, I'll laugh it, politically correct or not. Mocking is my specialty.

For example: the vice president's unfortunate hunting accident this past weekend. What a hoot!

Top 10 reasons for shooting Mr. Whittington:

• Cheney mistook Whittington for Dubya and shot him. Cheney's a lousy shot. We could speculate endlessly about whether Cheney had the moving truck ready for a quick trip to the White House.

• The Bush was there, and he's the one who actually pulled the trigger. Cheney got pinned as the patsy in the cover up.

Nah, it would have been pinned on some hapless aide.

• Cheney mistook Mr. Whittington for an Arab terrorist and determined to torture the plot out of him.

• Cheney did it because he could.

• Whittington, in his big, orange hunting jacket, looked just like a small, fluffy bird. An easy mistake to make.

Are you sure it wasn't Dubya with the gun?

I guess that's not 10 reasons, but I'm a cat. I can't count that well.

Isn't peppering quail with birdshot a case of overkill? It can't do anything for the flavor. I say, if you're going to hunt small creatures, kill them the way God intended -- with your teeth.

-- Politicat