My wise friend Foo sent me the link to this video:
Hold hands
Foo says:
I believe that video should be sent into all warzones
Foo says:
The otters know!
Foo says:
Hold hands so you don't drift apart!
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Favorite TV commercial
Liberty Mutual
I love this ad. First time I saw it, I was mesmerized. Such a beautiful message. Makes you want to run out and do something nice!
Reading the comments about this commercial is almost as good as watching it... except for the ones posted by people who've had bad experiences with insurance companies :D
Comments like: "Awesome message this world needs some lovin."
I love this ad. First time I saw it, I was mesmerized. Such a beautiful message. Makes you want to run out and do something nice!
Reading the comments about this commercial is almost as good as watching it... except for the ones posted by people who've had bad experiences with insurance companies :D
Comments like: "Awesome message this world needs some lovin."
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Beloved
At St. Andrew they like to use the word "beloved." As in, "beloved child of God." And I like it. It's a beautiful word. Sort of plummy and comfortable in the mouth.
So this word was making me smile the other day and I had this sudden memory of the role the word "beloved" had in my life. This is so ironic and wonderful.
When I used to sing at the Central Christian Church in Dallas, we used to sing an "altar call" style hymn at the end of each service. It was supposed to inspire people to come join the church.
One of the minister's favorite hymns was "Softly and Tenderly". It's an oldie but goodie:
*wink*
So this word was making me smile the other day and I had this sudden memory of the role the word "beloved" had in my life. This is so ironic and wonderful.
When I used to sing at the Central Christian Church in Dallas, we used to sing an "altar call" style hymn at the end of each service. It was supposed to inspire people to come join the church.
One of the minister's favorite hymns was "Softly and Tenderly". It's an oldie but goodie:
Softly and tenderly, Jesus is calling,You've probably already spotted the part I had a problem with. Well, being ornery, I rewrote it.
Calling for you and for me.
See, on the portals he's waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.
Come home, come home,
Ye who are weary, come home.
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling.
Calling, "Oh sinner, come home."
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling.Here's another irony: St. Andrew's has a banner outside that reads: "Home Sweet Home".
Calling, "Beloved, come home."
*wink*
San Francisco to ban plastic grocery bags - CNN.com
San Francisco to ban plastic grocery bags - CNN.com: "San Francisco's Board of Supervisors voted Tuesday to become the first U.S. city to ban plastic bags from large supermarkets to help promote recycling."
Yeah!!!
Yeah!!!
Preamble
As members of the Christian Church,
We confess that Jesus is the Christ,
the Son of the living God,
and proclaim him Lord and Savior of the world.
In Christ's name and by his grace
we accept our mission of witness
and service to all people.
We rejoice in God,
maker of heaven and earth,
and in the covenant of love,
which binds us to God and one another.
Through baptism into Christ
we enter into newness of life
and are made one with the whole people of God.
In the communion of the Holy Spirit
we are joined together in discipleship
and in obedience to Christ.
At the table of the Lord
we celebrate with thanksgiving
the saving acts and presence of Christ.
Within the universal church
we receive the gift of ministry
and the light of scripture.
In the bonds of Christian faith
we yield ourselves to God
that we may serve the One
whose kingdom has no end.
Blessing, glory and honor
be to God forever. Amen.
We confess that Jesus is the Christ,
the Son of the living God,
and proclaim him Lord and Savior of the world.
In Christ's name and by his grace
we accept our mission of witness
and service to all people.
We rejoice in God,
maker of heaven and earth,
and in the covenant of love,
which binds us to God and one another.
Through baptism into Christ
we enter into newness of life
and are made one with the whole people of God.
In the communion of the Holy Spirit
we are joined together in discipleship
and in obedience to Christ.
At the table of the Lord
we celebrate with thanksgiving
the saving acts and presence of Christ.
Within the universal church
we receive the gift of ministry
and the light of scripture.
In the bonds of Christian faith
we yield ourselves to God
that we may serve the One
whose kingdom has no end.
Blessing, glory and honor
be to God forever. Amen.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Singing meat
I love this story. Thanks to J for sending me the link!
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
"Omigod. Singing meat."
Friday, March 23, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
LeRoy
I dreamed about my ex Leroy last night. He was taking one of my dogs and moving away. I spent a lot of the dream crying.
Well, LeRoy did just move, from NC to Wyoming, I'm told. I haven't heard from him, so I have no way to contact him. I think I'm having anxiety about that. We were together for 9 years and we've been friends for over 15 now, and it bothers me that I can't reach him.
Thinking about LeRoy reminds me of something the preacher at St. Andrew said to me on "Pie with the Pastor" night. She said that most people who aren't raised in a church never find their way to faith, so it was important to raise children in a faith community. But LeRoy is a great example of someone who was raised in a family with strong religious beliefs but who wants absolutely nothing to do with religion.
He hated going to church. He vehemently rejects the idea that there is any God. He fully believes that religion is the opiate of the masses. Honestly, these days television is more like the opiate of the masses but whatever.
I know a lot of people like LeRoy. John, my high school friend. Both of my parents. Sarah. People who are intelligent, independent types who feel like religion either failed them or abused them in some way.
Raising a kid in a church is no guarantee that the child will grow up to be a person of faith. On the contrary, he or she could, as an adult, be so scarred by their experience that belief becomes, barring a miracle, almost impossible.
Well, LeRoy did just move, from NC to Wyoming, I'm told. I haven't heard from him, so I have no way to contact him. I think I'm having anxiety about that. We were together for 9 years and we've been friends for over 15 now, and it bothers me that I can't reach him.
Thinking about LeRoy reminds me of something the preacher at St. Andrew said to me on "Pie with the Pastor" night. She said that most people who aren't raised in a church never find their way to faith, so it was important to raise children in a faith community. But LeRoy is a great example of someone who was raised in a family with strong religious beliefs but who wants absolutely nothing to do with religion.
He hated going to church. He vehemently rejects the idea that there is any God. He fully believes that religion is the opiate of the masses. Honestly, these days television is more like the opiate of the masses but whatever.
I know a lot of people like LeRoy. John, my high school friend. Both of my parents. Sarah. People who are intelligent, independent types who feel like religion either failed them or abused them in some way.
Raising a kid in a church is no guarantee that the child will grow up to be a person of faith. On the contrary, he or she could, as an adult, be so scarred by their experience that belief becomes, barring a miracle, almost impossible.
Money Looms in Episcopalian Rift With Anglicans - New York Times
Money Looms in Episcopalian Rift With Anglicans - New York Times: "As leaders of the Anglican Communion hold meeting after meeting to debate severing ties with the Episcopal Church in the United States for consecrating an openly gay bishop, one of the unspoken complications is just who has been paying the bills.
The truth is, the Episcopal Church bankrolls much of the Communion’s operations. And a cutoff of that money, while unlikely at this time, could deal the Communion a devastating blow."
hahahahahahahahaha
*deep breath*
hahahahahahahahaha
The truth is, the Episcopal Church bankrolls much of the Communion’s operations. And a cutoff of that money, while unlikely at this time, could deal the Communion a devastating blow."
hahahahahahahahaha
hahahahahahahahaha
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Church is not just a social event
I don't want to give the impression that I just want to go to church so I can have friends.
The other part of the puzzle is the desire I have to do something about the suffering in the world. This is an impulse I share with my father, who had a heart full of compassion and no way to express it.
Pretty much everyone in my family lives to achieve comfort for themselves. They do not have causes, they don't support charities. My father would put a few dollars extra in his electricity payment during the winter to help poor families pay their bills, and my mom would get angry.
Most of my family (other than my mom) are all Republican Rush-Limbaugh-listeners, and they have that callous disregard for suffering that is too common among the FOX News commentator types. The poor are poor because they are lazy and weak-willed. "We don't have to feed the hungry. Our wealth will eventually trickle down."
Well, I just can't agree with that. In fact it pisses me off when I think about it. There are huge needs in the world, and the right thing to do is to try to address them. I have come to believe that Jesus saw the same needs and felt them deeply, and that's the main reason I feel attracted to Christianity.
I guess in looking for faith, I'm looking for a family whose values are more like mine, and come from a source of spiritual energy, not from the marketplace or tv or magazines. A family that encourages one another to rise above our own comforts to a higher purpose. A family in which there are many many more people at the table, and not just people "like us" but people of all nationalities, races, creeds.
We live in a country with the abundance to feed the world, and the technology to help improve education, health care and the use of the environment on a global scale. And we aren't doing it. I hope to find a community of faith that wants to take on these issues from a spiritual perspective. We'll see.
The other part of the puzzle is the desire I have to do something about the suffering in the world. This is an impulse I share with my father, who had a heart full of compassion and no way to express it.
Pretty much everyone in my family lives to achieve comfort for themselves. They do not have causes, they don't support charities. My father would put a few dollars extra in his electricity payment during the winter to help poor families pay their bills, and my mom would get angry.
Most of my family (other than my mom) are all Republican Rush-Limbaugh-listeners, and they have that callous disregard for suffering that is too common among the FOX News commentator types. The poor are poor because they are lazy and weak-willed. "We don't have to feed the hungry. Our wealth will eventually trickle down."
Well, I just can't agree with that. In fact it pisses me off when I think about it. There are huge needs in the world, and the right thing to do is to try to address them. I have come to believe that Jesus saw the same needs and felt them deeply, and that's the main reason I feel attracted to Christianity.
I guess in looking for faith, I'm looking for a family whose values are more like mine, and come from a source of spiritual energy, not from the marketplace or tv or magazines. A family that encourages one another to rise above our own comforts to a higher purpose. A family in which there are many many more people at the table, and not just people "like us" but people of all nationalities, races, creeds.
We live in a country with the abundance to feed the world, and the technology to help improve education, health care and the use of the environment on a global scale. And we aren't doing it. I hope to find a community of faith that wants to take on these issues from a spiritual perspective. We'll see.
So, God = Death?
I was reading over what I've written on this blog and I'm struck by how closely my search for God has paralleled the losses I've had in my life. I think that might have been true early on, when my basic concerns about religion were metaphysical.
Since those early days I've come to realize also that part of the draw of church for me has been the pull of community.
My parents had almost no friends. We never had people over. We never went to people's houses. We didn't have a social life outside the home that involved a church or clubs or sports. We were almost completely isolated.
So I spent most of my years when I wasn't in school in my room, reading, drawing, talking on the phone with the few friends I had made. I grew up into an emotionally and socially stunted, painfully shy young woman. I developed social anxieties that I still struggle with today. For example, I had 3 weeks off from work once, during which time I never left my house. My neighbors called the police to make sure I hadn't been attacked and eaten by my dogs or something.
And yet, through the process of living day to day I eventually discovered that I was not a complete introvert, even though I behaved like one. I love to perform. I turned out to be a natural teacher (something you'd never have convinced me of when I was younger). If you had told me I would spend a good portion of my work day every day getting up in front of people and talking, I'd have laughed in your face. But that's what happened.
I discovered from my explorations of virtual worlds that I am a born organizer and entertainer. I organized online weddings and parties. I led a virtual rock band. I ran a virtual bar. I wrote songs and performed them online.
Who is this person???
Well, I had to finally admit to myself that this disconnect between my real life and my online life, and between my work life and my off-work life, was something to pay attention to. There had to be a reason why I was so outgoing at work and online, and completely introverted otherwise. That realization led to therapy, diagnosis, and medications which helped me make some sense of the conflicting feelings I'd been having about the fear of being around other people on the one hand, and the desire for contact and community on the other.
Since those early days I've come to realize also that part of the draw of church for me has been the pull of community.
My parents had almost no friends. We never had people over. We never went to people's houses. We didn't have a social life outside the home that involved a church or clubs or sports. We were almost completely isolated.
So I spent most of my years when I wasn't in school in my room, reading, drawing, talking on the phone with the few friends I had made. I grew up into an emotionally and socially stunted, painfully shy young woman. I developed social anxieties that I still struggle with today. For example, I had 3 weeks off from work once, during which time I never left my house. My neighbors called the police to make sure I hadn't been attacked and eaten by my dogs or something.
And yet, through the process of living day to day I eventually discovered that I was not a complete introvert, even though I behaved like one. I love to perform. I turned out to be a natural teacher (something you'd never have convinced me of when I was younger). If you had told me I would spend a good portion of my work day every day getting up in front of people and talking, I'd have laughed in your face. But that's what happened.
I discovered from my explorations of virtual worlds that I am a born organizer and entertainer. I organized online weddings and parties. I led a virtual rock band. I ran a virtual bar. I wrote songs and performed them online.
Who is this person???
Well, I had to finally admit to myself that this disconnect between my real life and my online life, and between my work life and my off-work life, was something to pay attention to. There had to be a reason why I was so outgoing at work and online, and completely introverted otherwise. That realization led to therapy, diagnosis, and medications which helped me make some sense of the conflicting feelings I'd been having about the fear of being around other people on the one hand, and the desire for contact and community on the other.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Thomas Merton on peace.
Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience.
- Thomas Merton
from "Thomas Merton on Peace"
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Emergent Village
Found something else cool: Emergent Village. I discovered it on the webpage of Diana Butler Bass who turns up now and then on the Sojourners site. Her book, Christianity for the Rest of Us, is now on my to-read list.
So there's a local Emergent group here, at St. Paul School of Theology. There's also one called KC Emergent Cohort. Kinda wonder why there are two.
The folks at Emergent Village espouse 4 main values:
There's also a community of Emerging Women.
So there's a local Emergent group here, at St. Paul School of Theology. There's also one called KC Emergent Cohort. Kinda wonder why there are two.
The folks at Emergent Village espouse 4 main values:
- Commitment to God in the way of Jesus
- Commitment to the church in all its forms
- Commitment to God's world
- Commitment to one another
We believe in God, beauty, future, and hope – but you won’t find a traditional statement of faith here. We don’t have a problem with faith, but with statements. Whereas statements of faith and doctrine have a tendency to stifle friendships, we hope to further conversation and action around the things of God.Brilliantly said.
There's also a community of Emerging Women.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Synergies
Remember back when I talked about why I named my blog "Bright Sadness" and quoted Schmemann? Well, Mr. Schmemann is today's Voice of the Day on Sojo.net, the same quote that struck me so deeply:
Bright Sadness is the true message and gift of Lent: ... the sadness of my exile, of the waste I have made of my life; the brightness of God's presence and forgiveness, the joy of the recovered desire for God, the peace of the recovered home. Such is the climate of Lenten worship; such is its first and general impact on my soul.I think it bears repeating.
- Alexander Schmemann
from "Great Lent"
Naughty, naughty priest!
The Catholic Church turns a blind eye to pedophiles, but brings the boom down on the real sinners: liberation theologians. From the Los Angeles Times:
Vatican to punish priest, sources say
The inquiry into Sobrino has apparently been pushed along by the Archbishop of San Salvador, Fernando Saenz Lacalle, who was formerly the apostolic minister to the Salvadoran military, the folks who murdered Oscar Romero in 1980 and six of Sobrino's fellow Jesuit priests in 1989. The article also mentions that Saenz is a member of the conservative religious organization Opus Dei, which anyone familiar with the Da Vinci Code should recognize.
Seems the new pope has a personal interest in this as well:
Supposedly, the problem is Sobrino's conception of the divinity of Jesus. According to Saenz: "The divinity of Jesus Christ, that he is truly the son of God made into man, is a fundamental point of our faith.... [Sobrino] is aware of [Jesus'] humanity but not his divinity, so he is not Catholic." This sort of thing is just repugnant to me. To my nondoctrinal mind, it seems supremely stupid. People are starving, being oppressed and murdered. Here is a priest who selflessly and courageously fought this oppression. Who gives a rats ass about his "awareness" of the divinity / humanity of Jesus? What does that even mean, "is aware of"? Sounds like doublespeak to me.
Vatican to punish priest, sources say
The inquiry into Sobrino has apparently been pushed along by the Archbishop of San Salvador, Fernando Saenz Lacalle, who was formerly the apostolic minister to the Salvadoran military, the folks who murdered Oscar Romero in 1980 and six of Sobrino's fellow Jesuit priests in 1989. The article also mentions that Saenz is a member of the conservative religious organization Opus Dei, which anyone familiar with the Da Vinci Code should recognize.
Seems the new pope has a personal interest in this as well:
The order against Sobrino will be issued by the Vatican's watchdog arm, the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and will carry the approval of Pope Benedict XVI who, as Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, led efforts to stamp out liberation theology.The inquiry was initiated while Ratzinger was still the head of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.
Supposedly, the problem is Sobrino's conception of the divinity of Jesus. According to Saenz: "The divinity of Jesus Christ, that he is truly the son of God made into man, is a fundamental point of our faith.... [Sobrino] is aware of [Jesus'] humanity but not his divinity, so he is not Catholic." This sort of thing is just repugnant to me. To my nondoctrinal mind, it seems supremely stupid. People are starving, being oppressed and murdered. Here is a priest who selflessly and courageously fought this oppression. Who gives a rats ass about his "awareness" of the divinity / humanity of Jesus? What does that even mean, "is aware of"? Sounds like doublespeak to me.
Monday, March 12, 2007
She Who Is
Ok, a few posts back I said I'd explain why I referred to God as She.
I started thinking of God as a woman, probably about thirteen years ago, when I heard this for the first time:
The 23rd Psalm - Bobby McFerrin
from his album "Medicine Man"
The Lord is my shepherd, I have all I need.
She makes me lie down in green meadows,
Beside the still waters she will lead.
She restores my soul, she rights my wrongs,
She leads me in a path of good things and fills my heart with songs.
Even though I walk through a dark and dreary land
There is nothing that can shake me.
She has said she won't forsake me. I'm in her hand.
She sets a table before me in the presence of my foes.
She anoints my head with oil and my cup overflows.
Surely, goodness and kindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in her house forever and ever.
Glory be to our Mother and Daughter and to the Holy of Holies.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.
The first time I heard this, it took my breath away. I had this vision of the House of the Lord as a place full of sunshine, with the smell of cookies baking in the oven. I think it was the first time I really felt like "God of Love" made sense.
Thinking of God as a man never worked for me. God the Father didn't make me feel secure in God's love, because I was never secure in my own father's love. My dad was a troubled guy who judged himself and everyone else so harshly that expressing love was almost impossible for him. He was angry all the time and I rarely felt like I measured up to what he expected or matched up to what he wanted in a child. So I found that praying to God the Father was difficult. No, pointless.
This isn't to say that my relationship with my mother was rosy and wonderful, but at least I never doubted that she loved me. Maybe too much, but she loved me and nurtured me when she was able.
So anyway, ever since then I have felt that my understanding of God was more complete and less dissonant when I imagined God as female. I wouldn't feel comfortable in a faith setting where God was thought of solely as a man.
I started thinking of God as a woman, probably about thirteen years ago, when I heard this for the first time:
The 23rd Psalm - Bobby McFerrin
from his album "Medicine Man"
The Lord is my shepherd, I have all I need.
She makes me lie down in green meadows,
Beside the still waters she will lead.
She restores my soul, she rights my wrongs,
She leads me in a path of good things and fills my heart with songs.
Even though I walk through a dark and dreary land
There is nothing that can shake me.
She has said she won't forsake me. I'm in her hand.
She sets a table before me in the presence of my foes.
She anoints my head with oil and my cup overflows.
Surely, goodness and kindness will follow me all the days of my life,
And I will dwell in her house forever and ever.
Glory be to our Mother and Daughter and to the Holy of Holies.
As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end.
Amen.
The first time I heard this, it took my breath away. I had this vision of the House of the Lord as a place full of sunshine, with the smell of cookies baking in the oven. I think it was the first time I really felt like "God of Love" made sense.
Thinking of God as a man never worked for me. God the Father didn't make me feel secure in God's love, because I was never secure in my own father's love. My dad was a troubled guy who judged himself and everyone else so harshly that expressing love was almost impossible for him. He was angry all the time and I rarely felt like I measured up to what he expected or matched up to what he wanted in a child. So I found that praying to God the Father was difficult. No, pointless.
This isn't to say that my relationship with my mother was rosy and wonderful, but at least I never doubted that she loved me. Maybe too much, but she loved me and nurtured me when she was able.
So anyway, ever since then I have felt that my understanding of God was more complete and less dissonant when I imagined God as female. I wouldn't feel comfortable in a faith setting where God was thought of solely as a man.
For many of us it is not our politics that constrains us to say and do what we do and say in opposition to apartheid and in working for a new South Africa. It is precisely our relationship with God, it is our worship, our meditation, our attendance at the Eucharist, it is these spiritual things which compel us to speak up for God, "Thus saith the Lord ...," to be the voice of the voiceless. For many the spiritual is utterly central to all we are and do and say.
- Desmond Tutu
from "Cry Justice!"
- Desmond Tutu
from "Cry Justice!"
Friday, March 9, 2007
Theme Song
This week's theme song seems to be:
Let Your Light Shine by Keb' Mo'
You say you wanna get over,
What are you gonna do?
Watch the world go by in a corner
All alone?
I know it's none of my business
But there's something I need to say.
If you could see you
The way I see you
You'd start flyin' on your own.
Step aside, and
Let your light shine.
Let your love show.
It's a short ride
Down a long road.
When the rains come
And the winds blow,
Let your light shine
Wherever you go.
This world is ready and waitin',
For you to break on through.
It's time to recognize
Time to realize
You're the only one like you.
Step on up -
Step into your greatness.
Don't be afraid.
There's a place that you
Will rise up to.
No one else can do what you do.
Get out the way and
Let your light shine.
Let your love show.
It's a short ride
Down a long road.
When the rains come,
And the winds blow,
Let your light shine
Wherever you go.
(I was going to link to a sample, but Sony's website works so badly I can't :( )
Let Your Light Shine by Keb' Mo'
You say you wanna get over,
What are you gonna do?
Watch the world go by in a corner
All alone?
I know it's none of my business
But there's something I need to say.
If you could see you
The way I see you
You'd start flyin' on your own.
Step aside, and
Let your light shine.
Let your love show.
It's a short ride
Down a long road.
When the rains come
And the winds blow,
Let your light shine
Wherever you go.
This world is ready and waitin',
For you to break on through.
It's time to recognize
Time to realize
You're the only one like you.
Step on up -
Step into your greatness.
Don't be afraid.
There's a place that you
Will rise up to.
No one else can do what you do.
Get out the way and
Let your light shine.
Let your love show.
It's a short ride
Down a long road.
When the rains come,
And the winds blow,
Let your light shine
Wherever you go.
(I was going to link to a sample, but Sony's website works so badly I can't :( )
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
The Micah Challenge
I came across this today, while reading a post on the God's Politics site. I'm still just looking into it, but I'm intrigued.
http://www.micahchallenge.org/
Of course being the ornery person I am, on studying their website I'm immediately brought up against something that makes me question:
Latest prayer reflection
Friday March 2: What the heck is social justice? (a link that won't work after the next prayer reflection is put up, thanks guys!)
Now, I'm all about social justice. It's one of the reasons I've found myself interested in joining a faith community. But the first thing this prayer reflection tells me to pray for is:
And I'm, like, no. I'm not going to pray for fear. As someone who has suffered crippling anxiety in my life, anxiety which prevented me for many years from living to my potential, the last thing I'm going to pray for is fear.
I mean... well, just no.
http://www.micahchallenge.org/
The Micah Call
This is a moment in history of unique potential, when the stated intentions of world leaders echo something of the mind of the Biblical prophets and the teachings of Jesus concerning the poor, and when we have the means to dramatically reduce poverty.
We commit ourselves, as followers of Jesus, to work together for the holistic transformation of our communities, to pursue justice, be passionate about kindness and to walk humbly with God.
We call on international and national decision-makers of both rich and poor nations, to fulfil their public promise to achieve the Millennium Development Goals and so halve absolute global poverty by 2015.
We call on Christians everywhere to be agents of hope for and with the poor, and to work with others to hold our national and global leaders accountable in securing a more just and merciful world.
Of course being the ornery person I am, on studying their website I'm immediately brought up against something that makes me question:
Latest prayer reflection
Friday March 2: What the heck is social justice? (a link that won't work after the next prayer reflection is put up, thanks guys!)
Now, I'm all about social justice. It's one of the reasons I've found myself interested in joining a faith community. But the first thing this prayer reflection tells me to pray for is:
Please pray: For ourselves and our church that we will fear God in all aspects of our lives.
And I'm, like, no. I'm not going to pray for fear. As someone who has suffered crippling anxiety in my life, anxiety which prevented me for many years from living to my potential, the last thing I'm going to pray for is fear.
I mean... well, just no.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Once again, Jerry Falwell says something stupid.
Falwell Says Global Warming Tool of Satan
Bob Allen
03-01-07
Moral Majority founder Jerry Falwell, who has worked for decades to involve conservative Christians in politics, said Sunday the debate over global warming is a tool of Satan being used to distract churches from their primary focus of preaching the gospel."
Falwell Says Global Warming Tool of Satan
Bob Allen
03-01-07
Moral Majority founder Jerry Falwell, who has worked for decades to involve conservative Christians in politics, said Sunday the debate over global warming is a tool of Satan being used to distract churches from their primary focus of preaching the gospel."
Monday, March 5, 2007
It is not we who do Christ the favor of worshiping him; it is Christ who empowers us by strengthening us, and enabling us to fight for the things that are worth fighting for, the things that endure; and that is a promise worth fighting for, worth dying for, and worth living for.
- Peter Gomes
excerpt from "Strength for the Journey."
The dreaded words:
"Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal savior?"
I'm interrupting my seemingly interminable story "Slacking Toward Bethlehem" to deal with this nasty question because it's come up again and I still don't know what to make of it.
We went to a gathering at our maybe-church last night to meet with the pastor and other new people and learn more about the church. The subject of creeds came up, and one of the folks present observed that at the service today the new members weren't asked to recite a creed or otherwise prove that they belonged in the church. He found that interesting.
And the pastor responded that the Disciples of Christ considered themselves a non-creedal church, but that they did at some point ask if the person coming to join or be baptized had "accepted Jesus as their personal savior." And I felt like someone had just popped my happy little balloon.
Why does that question bother me? Because I don't understand it. I have no idea what it means. I don't quite grasp why I need a savior to begin with, or what it means to have a personal relationship with someone who's been incorporeal at least for over 2000 years.
It has always been the hardest thing for me to get past. I guess not having been brought up with faith in Jesus and belief in sin and redemption makes it hard for me now to see the relevance. But I will not, under any circumstances, say I believe something that I do not to make me acceptable to a church. I have too much respect for true belief, and for myself, to do that.
I'm interrupting my seemingly interminable story "Slacking Toward Bethlehem" to deal with this nasty question because it's come up again and I still don't know what to make of it.
We went to a gathering at our maybe-church last night to meet with the pastor and other new people and learn more about the church. The subject of creeds came up, and one of the folks present observed that at the service today the new members weren't asked to recite a creed or otherwise prove that they belonged in the church. He found that interesting.
And the pastor responded that the Disciples of Christ considered themselves a non-creedal church, but that they did at some point ask if the person coming to join or be baptized had "accepted Jesus as their personal savior." And I felt like someone had just popped my happy little balloon.
Why does that question bother me? Because I don't understand it. I have no idea what it means. I don't quite grasp why I need a savior to begin with, or what it means to have a personal relationship with someone who's been incorporeal at least for over 2000 years.
It has always been the hardest thing for me to get past. I guess not having been brought up with faith in Jesus and belief in sin and redemption makes it hard for me now to see the relevance. But I will not, under any circumstances, say I believe something that I do not to make me acceptable to a church. I have too much respect for true belief, and for myself, to do that.
Friday, March 2, 2007
Piece by piece
I'm looking at Pam's quilt now, and I realize that her piece of the Quilt reminds me of the interconnectedness of things. People who never knew each other in life are intertwined on the Quilt by the commonality of their death. And disparate things, creatures, souls, are all intertwined in the harmony of creation that I have to call God. And great beauty, like that of the Quilt, can emerge from great sadness, because at the root they are in fact one.
The image of piecing a quilt together also reminds me of what I'm trying to do with this blog: trying to find some meaning in the patchwork of ideas, thoughts and memories, find the harmony that must underlie the dissonance of my search for god, maybe find the theme that runs throughout.
The image of piecing a quilt together also reminds me of what I'm trying to do with this blog: trying to find some meaning in the patchwork of ideas, thoughts and memories, find the harmony that must underlie the dissonance of my search for god, maybe find the theme that runs throughout.
Nothing now can come to any good.
Not long before Kris' memorial service, my cousin, Pamela Jane Pitt Arth, was diagnosed with AIDS. This was devastating to our family more so because we've never been all that great at dealing with pain and grief, or with being there for each other. There's a stiff upper lip thing that kicks in whenever something bad happens. How were we going to deal with this: not just the grave illness of a young, beautiful woman, but the fact that it was AIDS, that "disease gay people get."
Being gay is NOT okay in my family. My uncle used to call my best friend from high school (who died of AIDS in 1984) "just a fag." So Pam having AIDS (she got it from a guy she worked with who was bi-sexual and didn't tell her that he had had homosexual encounters) caused a huge increase in the homophobia and anger toward gay people in my family. Because it was all "their" fault, you know.
Pam died in 1994. This is her square of the AIDS quilt. Her part is the one with the butterfly.
If you know someone who has died of AIDS you can search to see if they have been added to the AIDS quilt.
Pam's death brought me, once again, face-to-face with religion. Pam was the only religious person left in our family. But her approach to religion was very much the "I have a personal relationship with Jesus as my Saviour" kind of thing, which was something I (and I guess the rest of my family) did not share. During her illness, her faith was a solace to her, I suppose, but I just couldn't relate.
I remember sitting at her memorial service and feeling completely disengaged. The preacher had that televangelist personality, the Hair of Steel and a great voice, and he and some woman sang "How Great Thou Art" as a duet. Pam's husband read that dreadfully bleak poem by W.H. Auden "Stop all the clocks". I doubt that he knew Auden was gay. I doubt that he knew who Auden was. He read it because someone remembered it from the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral." My uncle Bert requested "When the Saints Go Marching In" as the recessional, but it did not have the intended effect. These were, after all, Texan Baptists and they really didn't have the New Orleans second-line spirit to carry it off.
But this was one of the times when I thought that religion would have done my family a lot of good. Not the "I felt the flames-uh hail a'burnin' up mah back" kind of religion that my mom grew up with, and not the Jesus-as-personal-savior thing either because if you DON'T believe Jesus is your personal saviour whatever that means, you just can't go there, it's like having a door slammed in your face...
But a more loving, sustaining, inspiring sort of belief that's not dependent on Creed A or Creed B. The kind of belief that helps give meaning to the tragedies that come along in life, like Pam's death. Faith in something more, in something greater than ourselves, our experiences, our petty little lives. Faith that inspires people to reach out beyond what they personally want or need, to ask what other people need. Faith that moves people to strive for justice in the face of evil, disregard and apathy. Faith that allows you to say "there is a reason I was put on this earth beyond enduring all this shit being thrown at me until I die, and it's not just a reward in the afterlife (which has got to be the most masochistic existence I can imagine)."
When we no longer touch
The choir director at Central Christian Church was Kris Anthony. He was a member of the Turtle Creek Chorale, their composer-in-residence at the time. In addition to writing and arranging music, he was a talented pianist/singer. Among other works, he wrote a song cycle for chorus called "When We No Longer Touch" based on poetry by Peter McWilliams combined with parts of the Latin text for the Requiem mass. It's a song cycle about confronting the five stages of grief, and finding a way to survive, when a loved one dies of AIDS.
I came across this beautiful piece written by Eric Watts, who was deeply moved by Kris' music. Reminded me of myself, singing at Kris' memorial service and crying so hard I missed my cue.
The local PBS station produced a movie about the Turtle Creek Chorale, the many singers lost to AIDS, including Kris, and the struggles of the survivors to continue living after losing their loved ones. I found this quote from the video that is really magical to me:
I came across this beautiful piece written by Eric Watts, who was deeply moved by Kris' music. Reminded me of myself, singing at Kris' memorial service and crying so hard I missed my cue.
The local PBS station produced a movie about the Turtle Creek Chorale, the many singers lost to AIDS, including Kris, and the struggles of the survivors to continue living after losing their loved ones. I found this quote from the video that is really magical to me:
"When you come to the edge of all that you have known, there will be two possibilities awaiting you: There will be something solid to stand on or you will be taught how to fly."The video is hard to watch but it's so moving. Here's what the National Catholic Reporter has to say about it:
Inspirational is far too pallid and inadequate a word to describe the next video, which I very much wish to bring forward, not only in relation to grief recovery, but in the war against homophobia. It is "After Goodbye," originally an hourlong broadcast on PBS in mid-1994. Since then, our parish and our campus ministry have used it time and a again, to gut-wrenching effect, as one viewer put it. Quite simply, it is the most powerfully moving video I have ever seen.
The focus is on the Turtle Creek Chorus in Texas, which had lost, at the time of production, 60 of its 200 members to AIDS. The film chronicles the men's efforts to grapple with death, loss and grief in their own ranks and, indeed, in their own persons.
Timothy Seelig, the director, recounts with humility and courage how he has been obliged to function only 10 percent as conductor and 90 percent as spiritual guide, father and "love symbol." There is also a support group for parents whose sons have died of AIDS, whose sharing we are privileged to hear. Friends and lovers nobly tell of their own intimate struggles and feelings, as do some who are themselves battling AIDS. Indeed, one of the most emotionally devastating features of this video is that several of those we meet were dead by the time production was completed.
Among these is Kristopher Jon Anthony, whose friend, caregiver and musical partner, Carolyn, tells her story, but who never speaks to his himself except through the eloquence of his music. During the year before he died, he composed a choral setting for a series of poems by Peter McWilliams, which follows the non-classic five stages of grief outlined by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
McWilliams himself sets an excellent tone in his own interview, affirming that the numbness and denial we experience in the face of grief is a healthy reaction, a "transformer" that "steps down the pain" so that we can gradually absorb it. Still, it is Anthony's music that is the soul of this video, surrounding it and suffusing it lovingly, connecting its tissues and acting as interlude between spoken segments.
Kubler-Ross participates fully, interviewed at her farm in Virginia, and she is superb. An exquisitely wizened Swiss-German woman psychiatrist, she has both earthy tenderness and raw strength. Almost an archetype herself, like some ancient sibyl or sculpted tree on an alpine summit, from her furrowed visage come statements that emanate from the depths of wisdom and pierce the heart. She compares the souls of homosexual people with AIDS to the Grand Canyon, carved by the elements and "open for all to see."
"They have been fabulous," she says. "They have taught us much about love."
This is an incomparable video, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in dealing not only with grief, but with prejudice and with death itself.
Sing unto the Lord a new song
So, around this time I began singing seriously, and I started getting gigs singing as a soloist / section leader in churches. This was an interesting way to go to church regularly without having to actually sit out there in the pews with everyone else. Over the years I sang at Disciples of Christ, Episcopalian, Methodist, UCC, and Presbyterian churches in Dallas and Asheville, NC.
I was singing at the Central Christian Church - Disciples of Christ in Dallas when I first felt the presence of God in a physical way. This was not long after my father had died. I had to sing a solo and I was nervous, and I literally felt God reach down and wrap her arms around me. Yes, Her arms. I'll talk about that sometime soon. I felt a huge sense of peace, and saw a golden glow around everything. It was a really profound moment for me.
I was singing at the Central Christian Church - Disciples of Christ in Dallas when I first felt the presence of God in a physical way. This was not long after my father had died. I had to sing a solo and I was nervous, and I literally felt God reach down and wrap her arms around me. Yes, Her arms. I'll talk about that sometime soon. I felt a huge sense of peace, and saw a golden glow around everything. It was a really profound moment for me.
Thursday, March 1, 2007
Quid pro quo
My father's death led to an interesting revelation for me. While I was finding myself drawn closer to God by grief, my grandmother (the one I used to annoy by claiming there was no God) felt deeply betrayed.
My dad was her oldest son and, frankly, her favorite. When he died, she was angry with God. She would say "Why did He take Carroll?" "Why didn't He take me?" "Why would He do this to me?" She seemed to feel like years of Sunday School teaching, missionary work (bringing Christ to the heathen Lutheran in Minnesota...) and right living were supposed to count for something. Build a bulwark against anything bad happening in her life. She told me she had lost her faith.
The irony of it still fascinates me. Here I, the agnostic, was finding faith in God through grief, while my grandmother, the life-long Christian, was losing hers.
I think it has to do with expectations. I have never expected anything from God. I don't blame God for the bad things that happen to me, nor do I consider God responsible for the good things that happen to me, not in a direct way. When I think of God, I imagine something that is so vast and powerful that it completely overwhelms our ability to understand. And thinking of a relationship with God as some kind of quid pro quo seems to reduce it to human terms which are way too limiting to really describe what's going on with God.
When I think of good things coming from God, I think of the harmony of the universe, the variety and beauty of creation, and those good things that come to me personally when I am in tune with that harmony, that beauty.
I do not believe that God reached down and personally took my father's life, nor do I believe that God turned a blind eye to the suffering of millions during the Holocaust, for example. That's thinking of God as if God were a human ruler, with power over people but the limited perspective that we all have that only allows us to see our own sliver of reality.
I was just asking myself: "Don't you believe God can do anything?" And the answer I came up with was "I believe God can be anything." The key to the way I see it is the difference between action and being.
So anyway, the point is: as I saw it then, God did not take my Dad. Dad died. And God grieved with me. I did not feel abandoned. I felt loved.
My dad was her oldest son and, frankly, her favorite. When he died, she was angry with God. She would say "Why did He take Carroll?" "Why didn't He take me?" "Why would He do this to me?" She seemed to feel like years of Sunday School teaching, missionary work (bringing Christ to the heathen Lutheran in Minnesota...) and right living were supposed to count for something. Build a bulwark against anything bad happening in her life. She told me she had lost her faith.
The irony of it still fascinates me. Here I, the agnostic, was finding faith in God through grief, while my grandmother, the life-long Christian, was losing hers.
I think it has to do with expectations. I have never expected anything from God. I don't blame God for the bad things that happen to me, nor do I consider God responsible for the good things that happen to me, not in a direct way. When I think of God, I imagine something that is so vast and powerful that it completely overwhelms our ability to understand. And thinking of a relationship with God as some kind of quid pro quo seems to reduce it to human terms which are way too limiting to really describe what's going on with God.
When I think of good things coming from God, I think of the harmony of the universe, the variety and beauty of creation, and those good things that come to me personally when I am in tune with that harmony, that beauty.
I do not believe that God reached down and personally took my father's life, nor do I believe that God turned a blind eye to the suffering of millions during the Holocaust, for example. That's thinking of God as if God were a human ruler, with power over people but the limited perspective that we all have that only allows us to see our own sliver of reality.
I was just asking myself: "Don't you believe God can do anything?" And the answer I came up with was "I believe God can be anything." The key to the way I see it is the difference between action and being.
So anyway, the point is: as I saw it then, God did not take my Dad. Dad died. And God grieved with me. I did not feel abandoned. I felt loved.
Gack!
Missed almost a whole week of posts. SIGH. This has been a week of distractions. It's so easy to get sidetracked from things.
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