Order of Santa Ignora

Finally, that announcement-thingie!

2006-11-30T12:57:00.000-08:00

A long time ago, I said there was going to be an announcement.

Well, here it is!

This blog is moving to http://orderofsantaignora.wordpress.com.

Why the huge delay?

Well, I didn't want to tell you guys my real name. Seriously. Yes, I know I'm a dork, you'll think I'm an even bigger dork in about two paragraphs.

I was still kinda digging this anonymous thing. But I'm pretty sure it's time to drop the monastic habit [even though the blog will still be the Order of Santa Ignora (and I PROMISE that in the next week or so, I'll tell you where that reference comes from)].

Anyway, don't worry if you mess up, I'll still answer to Sr. Mary Hasta. But my real name is Mary Sue.

Y'all can stop laughing now. :p

Your Light Reading For The Day

2006-11-27T12:52:00.000-08:00

Stumbled across this article by David Goode in my travels around the Internet, and I found it interesting. It's a PDF, be warned. And it's also got some moralising of its own going on, but it's an interesting read.

Morals and penance: punishing vice in East Anglia on the eve of the sixteenth century

Abstract
A look at the punishment of immorality and vice in East Anglia at the close of the fifteenth century, with examples taken from the visitation of 1499 of the vacant see of Norwich, recorded in the Episcopal Register of Cardinal John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury. The paper contrasts the self-righteous attitude towards morality of many of today's Christians with the surprisingly humane attitude to its punishment on the eve of the sixteenth century.

o_0

2006-11-24T06:55:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine explained quite solemnly that she doesn't like Thanksgiving because it represents 'oppresive Christian traditions'.

Um. Yeah. How do you go about explaining the wrongness of wrong that is that statement without alienating said friend and/or boring her to tears with historical detail?

Also, new!landlord somehow got the impression I'm a bible thumper. From my icon corner.

The wrongness just keeps on coming!

An Open Letter to the Holy and Undivided Trinity, One God

2006-11-20T10:46:00.000-08:00

Dear Creator Father, Redeemer Christ, and Sustaining Spirit:

I really had a good time at church yesterday, especially considering it was the first time I'd vested and sung with my little choir in probably a month. And thank you for getting the other strong-lunged soprano to church in time for the Communion Hymn, since she can read music and I just, you know, fake it.

And it was kind of fun to have the processional stuck in my head for the rest of the day, because it was Glorious is the name of Jesus and I really like that hymn.

But, seriously, enough is enough. The thing has one verse that just repeats the same thing over and over. It was in my dreams last night, fer crying out loud! I'm starting to feel sympathy for the guys who drill holes in their skulls to get rid of the voices. Even the iPod isn't working, and I've brought out the big guns: the Moulin Rouge soundtrack.

Little help here, please?
Thanks,
Me.

Urgh. Morning

2006-11-17T09:24:00.000-08:00

I have been reading a lot of self-proclaimed "Guides to Spiritual Enlightenment" lately. I don't know why.

The amusing thing to me is that they pretty much all say, 'if'n you're serious about your spirituality, you will get up very, very early in the morning.'

...the hell? Does God only keep office hours from 5am-7am?

About 75% of the time, the guides go on to say, "It's a discipline, it's the quiet part of the day, you'll have no distractions, and it will make you a better person. Just try it for a while, you'll learn to love it!"

I know now not to try it for a while, but back when I didn't understand who and what I was, I would go through phases where I would tell myself that TOMORROW I would totally wake up at 5am, say my prayers, go out exercising, come home and shower and greet the day with a smile. I'd set my three alarms for 5am, and go to sleep.

And then wake up at about 7am, having hit the snooze button a billion times, and rush off to work.

I ran across an article today at Focused Distractions, which is a blog written by a person with ADD who helps others deal with their ADD. I, too, have ADD, a real-true diagnosis with all the associated hyperfocus and time management issues. She describes her day thus:

Many of us with ADD brains are not very pleasant in the morning. We are often night owls who find it nearly impossible to:
Shut off our computers
Turn off the TV
Close the interesting novel
Turn off our non-stop brains

That means, we generally are up LATE and try to sleep in as late as humanly possible without getting fired or kicked out of school.

ADD is why I do my second-best praying after 11pm*. I've found that there's nothing better to wind my brain down than Evening Prayer followed by Compline. It has all the things that an ADD person loves: structure, a schedule, and singing.

Ok, well, maybe the singing is just me.

We're coming up on Advent, which is one of those times of year where people start looking at their faith and spirituality and discovering lacks. It's tempting to go running for the spiritual self-help books. God created us as individuals, however, which means that we all have to come up with our own individual schedules.

*I do my first-best praying when I'm on an airplane. My turbulent flight from Baltimore to Detroit last week may cause world peace or a cure for cancer.

For the record: Jet lag sucks.

2006-11-10T08:16:00.000-08:00

Remind me again why I flew 3000 miles across the country?

Boss: How was your trip?
Moi: Fabulous! It was so great!
Boss: You're smiling bigger now than you were before you left.

...oh, yeah. That's why.

Something nice and fluffy that I'm totally stealing from Fr. Jim (since I'm slogging through not only a backlog at work, but 428 posts on my Bloglines-- you folks were sure chatty while I was gone) but I made up the title all by myself. And what have we learned from this? No more Miyazaki movies before bed.

iPod Shuffle-rama Yeehaw Amazing Friday Whoopie!
The rules, for bloggers who want to play:
Get your ipod or media-player of choice, select your whole music collection, set the thing to shuffle (i.e., randomized playback), then post the first ten songs that come out. No cheating, no matter how stupid it makes you feel! Maybe link the songs to online music stores for readers' convenience.

1. "Free at Last" G. Love & Special Sauce
2. "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" Ensemble, the Original Broadway Cast of Spamalot!
3. "Going Out of My Head" Fatboy Slim
4. "Bend Down the Branches" Tom Waits
5. "Fair" Remy Zero
6. "River's Afraid / Niska / Torture" Greg Edmonson, composer, soundtrack to the TV show Firefly
7. "Theme from Spider-Man" Original TV theme
8. "Siente Mi Amor" Selma Hayek, Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to Once Upon a Time in Mexico
9. "Pawn Shop" Sublime
10. "Open Book" Cake

I'm home from DC!

2006-11-08T12:47:00.000-08:00

Full report after I get some sleep.

For now, RAAR! ANGRY WHITE JESUS IS COMING TO GET YOUSE!

(from the Basillica of the Immaculate Conception)

10 cents a minute

2006-11-06T16:21:00.000-08:00

That's how much the Internet access at the youth hostel costs.

Anyway, preliminary report on the Investiture of Bp. Katharine Jefferts Schori:

Wow.

And you can quote me on that.

More will come on Wednesday or therabouts. As for now, I'm going to go poke at the holes I wore in my feet from all the walking. And possibly go smack the contingent of American Christian Patriots I'm cohabitating with with my BCP/NRSV.

In Christian Love, of course.

2006-11-01T08:36:00.000-08:00

*deep breath*

OMGI'MGOINGI'MGOINGI'M REALLY TRULY GOING! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Pray for us pilgrims as we journey to reaffirm our common prayer!

I'm running and I won't touch ground

2006-10-31T09:51:00.000-08:00

Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no
I got to keep on movin'
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh-no, I got to keep on movin'
---Men at Work

I was trying to get things organized for my trip (and for my novel, 'cause for the fifth year in a row I'll be participating in National Novel Writing Month-- and yet I'm not taking my laptop to DC. This is going to be INTERESTING). Last night, I paused for a moment to sit on the couch and watch a little Van Helsing with my housemates*... and promptly fell asleep.

So now, not only do I have none of my packing done, I didn't even get a chance to prepare anything for Los Dias De Los Muertos, the main celebrations of which begin tonight and continue through All Souls on the 2nd.

My family never really was one to go picnic in the graveyard, but I still like to have a little memorial up for my loved ones, little sugar skulls, some marigolds, and of course tequila and dulces.

Pause sometime in these three days and welcome home the memories of those who have passed on.

Cry if you must.
Laugh if you can.
Love them always.

--------------------------
* Not counting myself, there are six people living in my house. And we still have one empty room.

A Conversation

2006-10-30T17:08:00.000-08:00

Me: People are really starting to annoy me.

Culturally Buddhist Coworker: Wha'd [Enduser] do now?

Me: No, this is about my trip. People are getting their knickers in a twist.

CBC: You're going with your church, right?

Me: Kind of. I mean, it involves my church on the national level, and so many people are cranky about it that they're starting to harsh my mellow, man.

CBC: Why?

Me: Because the leader we elected is a woman, oh noes! Flee! The sky is falling!

CBC: Pfft. They need to get a life.

Me: Seriously. I'm all, "Ok, so I've got to pack, arrange transport to and from the airport, figure out what I'm going to wear to the party, finish up my price hold reports, brief my backup on current situations in my queue, and wonder if I'm going to have a phobia-induced panic attack somewhere over the Midwest. I don't have time to worry about piddly crap like whether or not my presiding bishop's gender offends some yabo's delicate nature."

CBC: That's right, you tell them.

Me: I'm going to have a good time on this trip, or else. And anyone who gets between me and a good time is going the the right way for a smacked bottom. In Christian charity, of course.

Planning for Pilgrimmage, Remembering History

2006-10-27T11:15:00.000-07:00

This is my first, long-distance pilgrimmage. I'm quite terribly excited. It's not just a pilgrimmage to the Seat of the Presiding Bishop of the ECUSA, it's also a pilgrimmage to the seat of US Government.

When your college degree can be summarized as "The United States of America's International Relations during the Late 20th Century", you become a little attached to Washington, DC. I even tried getting hotel reservations at the Watergate.

The ECUSA and the USA were born at the same time, which explains why their governing bodies and policies resemble each other.

Which kind of sucks because that means both systems were designed to consolidate power among a select group of people. For all that the United States promotes itself as a democracy, we are not. We are a republic, where everyone votes for a few people, who then go and make all the important decisions that the rest of us aren't smart enough to make.

Read the US Constitution, the whole thing in its original format, and you'll see the pattern written there as clear as day. The checks and balances are there, of course, to keep that small group of people who we put in charge from totally running roughshod over us, but it's pretty clear that while we may assert we are all created equal, the Founding Fathers did their best to try and keep the wrong sort of people out of the decision-making process on all levels.

The Founding Fathers weren't total jerks, though. They understood that things would change, that their document was just a set of hypothesies to frame the great American Experiment, and that change was neccessary. They put in ways that the Constitution itself could be modified as needed. Damnable difficult ways, which increased the likelyhood it wouldn't be amended without serious discussion, thought, and demand by a popular majority. Which has lead over the last 200 years, to several important changes that have put more of the power into the hands of the populace, from simplifying the Electoral College (yes, it's actually simpler now) to voter-initiated referrendums.

Despite the fact there are other democracies and republics in the world, some of them even based off of our own, the USA is an anomaly, an exception, a freak accident of politics. There is no other system in the world that matches ours. We have over 150 years of continuous governance with no coups, no competing governments, no mass invasions. Almost a century with no warfare on our soil. Almost a century of continuous, compulsory education for 12 years, which serves not only to create an informed populace, but to indoctrinate generations with the unique American paradox.

This is why people like Kim Jong Il and ++Peter Akinola will never understand the American mindset. Because America has refined individuality into an art form, and yet we can work together in groups without forcing one another to give up our individuality. In fact, we can bring in people from other groups, from societies and nations and churches that do not believe in individuality, that believe we should all work, act, talk, dress and behave the same, and include them without demanding they become wholly like us.

There are Americans who subscribe to this mindset, also. As a historian, I can tell you in honest, factual truth: there always has been. And always, always, always, the American Experiment has won out because there is room for every opinion, even the opinion that the American Experiment in individualism is wrong, bad, evil, and must be stopped.

This experiment in government has lasted 200 years, both in its secular version and its ecclesiastical version. It has grown and changed in 200 years. I believe that neither the USA nor the ECUSA will be ending any time soon, but I see a growth spurt and change in its future.

And that's kind of exciting to this historian.

Lord God Almighty, you have made all the peoples of the
earth for your glory, to serve you in freedom and in peace:
Give to the people of our country a zeal for justice and the
strength of forbearance, that we may use our liberty in
accordance with your gracious will; through Jesus Christ our
Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one
God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Random question

2006-10-25T11:33:00.000-07:00

During the Eucharistic Prayer at your PoW*, are there any local saints mentioned regularly? I.E, "In the communion with the Blessed Virgin Mary, our patron [Thatguy], Bl. [Guy who Founded Parish], and all the company of heaven..."

Anyone?

Bueller?

And now, for fun, stolen from Monastic Mumblings, How People of Faith Read a Stop Sign

1. A postmodernist deconstructs the sign (knocks it over with his car), ending forever the tyranny of the north-south traffic over the east-west traffic.

Damn, I should like, you know, stop editing my blog and work and stuff... as soon as I point you to this Something Positive comic. Outside of this Holy Ghost Stories plotline, the copmic is pretty much NSFPWAEO**.

*Place of Worship
**Not Safe For People Who Are Easily Offended

The 'S' Word

2006-10-23T11:41:00.000-07:00

I am probably the only person in the entire world who accepted Jesus Christ as my personal savior during a Stewardship sermon.

(This was a full-on Health and Wealth, Give Us Money And God Will Give You A Mercedes Benz sermon, too. Those exact words. And no, not in an Episcopal or Methodist church. It was in 2002, the year in which I moved three times over a 150 square mile area, got engaged and disengaged, cut 18 inches off my 20-inch-long hair, don't remember anything from September and October, and was a Fundamentalist Charismatic Baptist Pentecostal for six months. Good times, good times.)

Anywhoo, I think the pastor of the Fundicharisbapticostal church was just going through the motions of the altar call, because he sure as heck looked at me funny when I came walking up the aisle. I have to admit, however, I wasn't listening much to his sermon. I was having a little argument with God about life, the Universe, and everything, and what my job in L,tU&E actually was.

(I actually tune out a lot during sermons. It's not because of bad preaching, it's because I have the attention span of an encephillatic fruit fly.)

Since this was the first time I fully participated in a church (read: had a paycheck of my very own), I was weaned on a Fundicharisbaptiscostal version of Stewardship that has left me totally bemused by the Episcopalian version of Stewardship.

First of all, Episcopalians keep talking about 'time, treasure, and talent'. Isn't that the most delightfully vauge statement! And then there's pledge cards, all of which I've seen have "I will give [insert dollar figure] over [insert time period]." How quaint! And the cards are mailed and returned anonymously, so as not to give offense. And the budget, while it's 'available' for everyone because the church is a nonprofit organization, well, you usually have to know someone who knows someone who is in the know to get a copy.

The Fundicharisbaptiscostals didn't go for this fluffy bunny approach. We were told that we were to be at church four times a week (a 'teaching together' night, a Bible Study, then Wednesday evening and Sunday morning worship). We were told that 10% of our paycheck belonged to God, and God got His money first, even before the landlord. Talents? Oh, honey, if you showed a smidgeon of capability in an area, you were invited to join that ministry, and they would keep inviting you, until you joined (I was a First Embrace minister-- I got to stand at the front door and make sure every person who walked in got a full contact bear hug. No, I'm not kidding.)

Oh, yes, I know most of my readers (all three of ya) are going, "OMG, no, that would NEVER fly at my church!" Well, it wouldn't fly at Current!Parish, neither. And I'd be screaming as loud as the rest of everyone (there's a reason why I left the Fundicharisbaptiscostals, after all). But the Fundicharisbaptiscostals? They were growing at a net rate of 5 families a week. In the six months I was there, in addition to meeting operating costs, they raised $150,000 towards purchase of a new facility (I'm fairly certain the several million dollar building is paid off by now). I still give a regular percentage of my paycheck, and the first bill I pay is my pledge to the Church (and then to Episcopal Relief and Development), and the Church gets a lot of my time and talents on top of everything.

So, I went and opened my big, fat mouth and am now a member of the Stewardship Team at Current!Parish. And I'm combining my six months as a Fundicharisbaptiscostal with my eight months as a professional telephone fundraiser, and as God is my witness, at the very minimum, we are going to have not-at-all vauge, multiple choice checkbox pledge cards and a giant thermometer in the parish hall!!!

The Pilgrim-Tourist

2006-10-20T09:33:00.000-07:00

Quick update: Yes, I've spent most of this week getting my behind kicked by the nasty cold virus going around. Don't be me, suck it up and get some Dayquil and Nyquil, it will make life much easier.

Exactly two weeks from now, I will be in Washington, DC. Probably looking for lunch.

This is my very first trip to the Nation's Capital by my lonesome self. I've been twice before, but both times I was with my family and the most recent (in 2003) we were in town for five hours before heading for Backwoods, VA and my sister's college graduation. My mother asked where I wanted to go in DC in the five hours we had there, and as a brand-spanking new Episcopalian, I immediately chimed, "National Cathedral!"

And so my parents and I traveled to the nation's Cathedral, and pretty much as soon as we got in the door and I saw that big ol' altar and bowed to it, I knew I'd made a misteak. Mom was cool and all with the Cathedral, and had toured it on one of her previous trips, and she'd known intellectually I'd switched churches, but her baby daughter was CROSSING HERSELF OHEMGEE!

It was a kind of awkward tour, until we got into the gift shop. Because if there's one thing I've inherited from my mother, it's the ability to find inappropriate humor in all places. No, I won't tell you what tchotchkie had my mother and I giggling madly and yelling, "Da! DAD! Get over here and look at this!". Because then they won't let me back in for the Investiture.

The important thing is that on this trip, my mother will be about 3000 miles away. And I will be navigating the Metro without the aid of my father's Metro-map t-shirt. And that means I can go pretty much wherever I want to go.

(The astute will note that I have made no mention of the Episcopal Majority meeting, which begins exactly two weeks from today in DC. Because I'm not going. Damnit, I am flying 3000 miles across the country on a financially-ill-advised field trip, to a city with a wealth of museusm filled with cultural and national treasures that provide free admission. Free national treasures, or $25 to sit in a parish hall. Hmmm.)

Talking about Church Without Talking About Church.

2006-10-18T08:57:00.000-07:00

This article has been making the rounds of various places I hang out. I don't know Rod Dreher from Adam, so I can't comment on him or his recent 'shocking' conversion to Eastern Orthodoxy. But I still read the article, because I like reading conversion stories, to see how people reached the current place in their spiritual journeys. I sure hope Mr. Dreher finds joy and peace in his parish, especially once the spiritual high of the new convert wears off.

However, one thing he said struck me right between the eyes and won't let go.

What's more, I had become the sort of Catholic who thought preoccupying himself with Church controversies and Church politics was the same thing as preoccupying himself with Christ. Me and my friends would go on for hours and hours about what was wrong with the Church, and everything we had to say was true. But if you keep on like that, it will have its effect. One night, some Catholic friends left after a long and vivid night of conversation, and Julie and I reflected that we had all spent the entire evening talking about the Church -- but never mentioned Jesus.

Let that sink in a minute, O Christian bloggers. Whom are we spending our time talking about?

I, personally, would like to give thanks to God today for Dayquil.

File this bad boy under 'DUH!'

2006-10-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan.
You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition.
You believe that God's grace enables you to
choose to believe in him, even though
you yourself are totally depraved. The gift
of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance
of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the
life of obedience to which God has called us.
You are influenced heavly by John Wesley and the Methodists.

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan

79%

Emergent/Postmodern

71%

Roman Catholic

71%

Neo orthodox

57%

Modern Liberal

57%

Classical Liberal

54%

Charismatic/Pentecostal

43%

Reformed Evangelical

29%

Fundamentalist

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

Yeah. 17 years as a card-carrying Methodist wouldn't have anything to do with this at all, nu?

Still working on the announcement thing. Really. It will happen. Um, eventually.

Newsflash: Why am I in this handbasket?

2006-10-12T09:45:00.000-07:00

According to Kevin D. Denee of the Restored Church of God's Ambassador Youth magazine, blogs are encouraging people to have and express opinions.

Quotey:

The Internet—and more specifically blogs—has enabled everyone to have a voice on any matter. Now everyone’s thoughts are “published” for all to see. Whether or not it is effective, as soon as something is posted the person has a larger voice. It often makes the blogger feel good or makes him feel as if his opinion counts—when it is mostly mindless blather!

After reading this article, literally dozens of bloggers immediately jumped online to express their thoughts and opinions on the article, the article's author, the article's punctuation, the style layout of the article, and organize seating arrangements on the bus to Hell. I call a window seat.

(Via Pieces of Flair who got it from Cruel)

College Student Rocks World Religious Leaders with Pronouncement

2006-10-12T08:55:00.000-07:00

Jeremey Buckley, a college student at the University of Nebraska, rocked the world's religious leaders yesterday with his article entitled, "Religion Does Not Always Make Sense to All".

The Pope addressed Mr. Buckley's article in his Wednesday Angelus message by saying, "Jeez, sorry guys, I thought we'd made it pretty darn clear with the love God and love your neighbors stuff... Oh, well, better luck next time." The Dalai Lama reportedly started laughing so hard that he was crying, at which point he said, "Good joke."

Not all religious leaders took such a light tone with Buckley's remarks. "You will all burn!" said the guy on Hawthorne. "You will all burn for your hedonistic ways! Hey! Hey you! Wanna buy some weed? Heathen!"

The remarks from the Chabad representatives manning the portable sukkah outside of The Bagdad Pub and Theater seems to sum up the majority of the opinions of regular religious people. "Has he even tried to understand religion?" The Chabad representative scoffed, "Or is he just judging it based on what he's learned from television and movies?"

-30-

Wednesday announcement

2006-10-11T19:15:00.000-07:00

Hi folks!

The announcement is--- that the announcement has been postponed.

Something's going to change with this blog, and I'm still trying to figure out what, when, and how.

But I've got a metric crapload of stuff to take care of (and the Bishop's coming visiting this weekend) so I have to put this on the back burner.

Sorry!

facepalm

2006-10-09T17:43:00.000-07:00

In an article on Salon.com today, Stephen Baldwin says that God told him to make the horrible 1990s movie Bio-Dome.

In a statement released by God's publicist, God is all, "Oh, hells no! Don't try to blame that shit on me!"

Notes from this week's sermon

2006-10-09T10:55:00.000-07:00

'Mind you, I didn't give the sermon, I'm paraphrasing without permission, but Deacon Chata said some interesting things I wanna remember.

-- A lot of people insist that they are better Christians/spiritual people when they're alone in the middle of Nature with no one but themselves and God. But there is only one time during the Creation Stories that God takes a look around and says, "This isn't a good thing". And that's when humankind (Edom/Adam/That One Guy) is alone in the middle of Nature with no one but him and God.

-- God creates another human being, and Adam is ecastic because he not only recognizes a part of himself in another person, but because he has someone else to love.

-- "Love sucks sometimes." Especially when our loves leave us. Living alone and being alone sucks rocks. Part of the point of getting our butts out of bed on Sunday is to come together with other human beings, to get out of our lonlieness and create a community of love (even though it also means we have to deal with the annoyances that being with other human beings brings)

And now, my own reflection on the Gospel lesson-- When the Pharasiees came up and asked about divorce, they were testing Jesus. It's the equivalent of our "Where do you stand on the Ordination of Women?" or "Does God make homosexuals?" It's to test where on the political spectrum Jesus fell. Jesus goes and does that Teacher thing where you answer a question with another question (which is my all-time favorite thing to do when I'm teaching), and asks pretty much, "What does the Bible say? What does tradition say? What have you guys always done?"

So they tell him.

And Jesus proceeds to scold them and turn their perceptions upside-down.

Jesus was always doing things like that.
Jesus is always doing annoying things like that.
Jesus will always do annoying things like that, and people will get cranky at Him for it.

In other news, check back here on Wednesday. Big things happening. It'll be fun. I think.

Happy feast of St. Francis!

2006-10-04T08:53:00.000-07:00

Take a minute today and celebrate the goodness of God's creation (I, personally, am going to eat an apple that is AS BIG AS MY HEAD, no foolin' AND it's organically grown). Here is an excellent article on St. Francis' spiritual practices, because I think most people just know him as "that guy who talked to birds and stuff".

And spare a minute to pray for Bishop Alberto Ramento of the Philippine Independent Church, who was found murdered in his rectory yesterday. May light perpetual shine upon him. :votive:

Fasting and Temptation

2006-10-02T12:09:00.000-07:00

The Adversary has three super-duper pack-a-wallop weapons in its arsenal for Sunday mornings:
1) cold bathroom tile
2) warm bedding
3) leftover pizza

After 22 years of pretty regular church attendance (come hell or high water), the first two don't faze me for more than a few minutes. I don't get the spiritual tingles at church every Sunday, but when I've missed a one, there's this feeling deep inside me that there's something wrong. So I toss back the covers and do the cold-tile dance in the bathroom.

I fast before partaking of the Eucharist. It's a thing. That I started when I was a Methodist and we only got it once a month. When you can roll out of bed at 8.30a and still make it to church in time for the 9am service, well, fasting is super-easy.

Except when you have to get up at 7.30am after you'd capped a long Saturday of packing and moving by staying up until 1am chattering with new housemates, and there's that cold pizza smell lingering in the kitchen. Oh, and it was GOOD pizza; with locally made pepperoni and a fabulously thin crust. I swear I heard my stomach gurgle, "Gimme pizza! Gimme pizza NOW!"

I certainly don't think I'm going to go to Hell for having a piece of pizza before church. And, you know, the drive is long, and there's choir rehersal beforehand, and I've got a tendency towards low blood sugar that makes me cranky...

The Rationalization Train was just pulling into the station, and I was thinking about swinging on board. But each rationalization could be met with another one. My low blood sugar wouldn't hurt anyone, and I am a grown-up who can watch what I say to people. The drive is 15 minutes, on quiet city streets, quit whining. And I may not go to Hell for eating a piece of pizza, but I'm trying for more discipline in my spiritual life, not less, and that would set a dangerous precedent.

"Besides," I thought to myself, "No one's going to eat the pizza before I get back."

Famous last words.

Banned Book Week

2006-09-27T11:52:00.000-07:00

Deacon Tim reminds us all it's Banned Book Week. (And reminds me that I really need to update my links to add a bunch of people. Sometime after the move and before November, I promise.)

Top 10 Most Challenged Books as compiled by the American Library Association:
1. Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling
2. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
3. Alice series by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
4. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
5. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
6. Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers
7. It's Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris
8. Scary Stories series by Alvin Schwartz
9. Captain Underpants series by Dav Pilkey
10. Forever by Judy Blume

I've read all ten of the top 10 challenged books/series of the 21st century. Go me! I've also read 46 of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of the 1990s, AND I've taught three of them to public schoolkids (Julie of the Wolves to 6th graders, A Light in the Attic to 6th graders, and To Kill a Mockingbird to mixed high school teen parents).

I also think the Capitan Underpants series is hysterical. The principal turns into a giant baby wearing a pair of y-fronts! If you don't find that funny, you lead one sad life.

The horribly sad part? Most of the demands for books to be pulled from shelves come from people who think they are unChristian. Um, hello? Christian here. Enjoy Harry Potter, me + Capitan Underpants = ROFL. I didn't like Forever or Of Mice and Men, but that don't mean I think no one should be allowed to read them.

So, exercise your freedoms this week, go to your local library or bookstore and pick one of these books up.

2006-09-24T19:54:00.000-07:00

Those are the shiny keys to my shiny new house.

Thank you everyone for your prayers.

Prayer request

2006-09-20T08:55:00.000-07:00

Hi folks:
A couple weeks back I mentioned I'm being evicted from my house, due to my landlord selling the place. Well, I've got ten days until the deadline, and still no stable housing situation has popped up (I have a couple of couches that people have offered up for surfing, but if you haven't done it before, let me tell you: it sucks donkey balls). If'n you all could pray for me, I'd greatly appreciate it.

2006-09-16T21:51:00.000-07:00

My view during vespers today.

I Heart My Music Committee

2006-09-15T10:31:00.000-07:00

We're singing Faith of our Fathers AND Blessed Assurance on Sunday.

Neener neener neener!

Happy, shiny people holding haaaaands!

2006-09-14T11:42:00.000-07:00

For nearly two millennia, Christian women have learned to pray in the language of other people's souls. From worshiping God as father to envisioning a holy life as a military campaign, they've been taught to approach the Divine with the hearts and minds of men.

--from the description of the book She Who Prays on Powells.com

See, *this* is why I rarely read spirituality books written for women. What the ever-loving flying monkeys? Last time I checked, Deborah, Miriam, and the Blessed Virgin Mary all had girl parts. And that's off the top of my head, and not even getting into the great Mothers of the Church, from St. Mary of Magdalen to St. Brigid to St. Julian, St. Clare of Assisi, the Ss. Teresa (Avila, Liseux, Calcutta)...

I haven't read this book, but I think I know what it's all about, having read others of its ilk. It's about how to be a strong, loving, caring woman without ever raising your voice or causing the status quo to tremble-topple-fall, because God is a big, fluffy bunny who wants everyone to just be happy.

Right now, I tell you what, the language of my soul is mostly obscenities.

When you become a Christian, you aren't issued a Get-Out-of-Life's-Shit-Free card. You have to deal with the same stuff everyone else does. And sometimes dealing with that stuff means taking the hard line and putting up a fight for what's right.

Yes, there's some nice, fluffy, pretty pastoral poetry in the Bible and other spiritual writings, and that can be a comfort. The battle has ultimately been won, Jesus Christ has conquered death, but death has not conceeded defeat. We still have to do battle, Kill Bill style-- twin swords of truth and love freeing our friends, neighbors, and ourselves from the darkness.

Tacos and Comics Day: Runaways

2006-09-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

So, what DO you do when you discover your parents are the supervillans known as The Pride who control pretty much the entire West Coast?

See comic title.

Let's go over my checklist of Things I Enjoy In My Entertainment:
Good, solid, writing? Check.
Character-driven, with realistic characters? Check.
Things blowing up? Check and mate.

They're teenagers, so they tend to do teenager things, like buy burritos and sugar cereal for breakfast. But they're also gifted with a wide variety of super-powers, from magic to unpowered flight to a telepathic velociraptor from the 82nd century to a poor upbringing. They try to use their powers for good, but most of the time they simply are trying to use them to survive.

While the group is diverse in an after-school special kind of way, Brian K. Vaughn does an excellent job of keeping them from being stereotypical. I think you grow to love these kids not because of their excellent use of pop culture references (when the cops show up in an early issue, they yell, "West Wing!"-- which of course means 'walk fast, talk fast') and not just because we've all felt like we were let down and lied to by our parents, but because they are real, fragile human beings trying to make it in the world.

And they don't always make it.

So far, two of the main Runaways team members have died. Both were, at the time, my favorite character. And, considering the current story arc is called "Dead Means Dead", I don't think we're going to have unstable molecules bringing them back again.

Now, the main reason why I'm dusting off the Tacos and Comics Day format after a looooong hiatus is because the original creators, the aforementioned Mr. Brian K. "I Kill Everyone You Love, Dance, Monkeys, DANCE!" Vaughn and Adrian Alphona are leaving the series after issue #24. When this was announced last week, it was the first thing my Comics Guy said when I walked in the door of the shop. "Did you hear!" "I heard!"

Well, earlier this week, it was announced who was going to take over for Messres Vaughn and Alphona. Art will be handled by Michael Ryan. Writing will be handled by some guy named Joss Whedon.

Who, if you may remember, I've mentioned before.

My first reaction (well, after the jumping up and down and squealing like a fangirl) was, "Oh, crap! EVERYONE'S gonna die!"

Sept. 11th

2006-09-11T11:40:00.000-07:00

I wasn't going to write anything to commemorate this day. But if I hear "never forget" one more time, I am going to hurl. I will puke my Wheatabix and my lasagne all over the keyboard.

Why? Because America has forgotten.

Oh, no, we haven't forgotten the tragedy, the families and friends who still struggle today with the senseless death of their loved ones. May light perpetual shine upon those who died, and may God's comfort be with those who still grieve.

What was the motivation behind this attack? Why were the numbers 9/11 engraved upon our memories in dust, fire, blood and smoke?

Oh, the simple answer "Because they hated America."
Why?
Why did they hate America enough to give their own lives?

Because of our freedoms. Because our society gave us options on how to act, dress, speak, eat, read, worship. We were a nation with many different peoples, all managing to more-or-less live together in peace.

Now? We've forgotten that. We are a nation splintered, each faction hollering louder than the next that they are the One True Way that will save us all from the Adversary. Tick off the hot buttons on your fingers: war, homosexuality, immigration, wiretapping and domestic espionage... It's all us vs. them.

We've forgotten what happened in those weeks after 9/11. Complete strangers rented cars together and drove cross-country, some towards home, some towards the rescue and recovery efforts. We emptied our pockets into jars for charities. We prayed, ferverently, for peace.

And in five years, we've forgotten everything that united us, and latched on to the fear that divides us.

St. Mychael Judge and all the martyrs of New York and Pennsylvania,
Pray for us.

First Night of Choir Rehersal

2006-09-07T22:07:00.000-07:00

Whomever said "They who sing, pray twice" was a liar.

Because when you're singing in the choir, you're so worried about where you are, and how to pronounce the word "the", and whether or not you're drowning out the person next to you, and whether the sweat rolling down your back (in January) is leaving salt stains on your choir robe, and dear God, am I sharp or is that the piano?

Oh, and yeah, there's a worship service going on, praise God, where are the cough drops and WHO STOLE MY HYMNAL?!

Someone once told me "The Devil enters the church through the choir." And that has NOTHING to do with the fact that, as a young choir member, I once started a water fight during the Children's Sermon.

I didn't volunteer for the choir. As a matter of fact, I was invited to join at several times during the last year I've been attending A Certain Church, and each time I plead conflicting appointments. About two months ago, however, they sent in the big guns.

No, not the music director, someone with even more power and prestige: one of the Elders.

(Yes, yes, I know Episcopalians don't really have appointed and anointed Elders [and why don't we?], but trust me, they are around.)

"You're joining the choir this year," she told me.

"Okay," I said. Because, well, what else could I say?

(If you say, "Well, you could have said 'No', you've never been faced with an appointed and anointed [unofficial] Elder.)

So, on Sunday, for the first time in over a year, I will once again put on vestments and become a part of the worship leaders. I have my pencil, post-its, hymnal, music binder, and fan all ready.

God bless the singers, who pray twice (at the beginning of the service "Dear God, don't let me mess up!" and at the end "Thank God it's over!")

Whee! holds on as the world spins ever-faster

2006-08-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

It's been quiet on my end of the Internet, because I'm trying to do a lot of things at once. Planning my trip to DC, getting my finances in order, trying to line up a new job when this one ends in four weeks, and then today I discovered that Br. Landlord is putting the house up for sale, and I have 30 days to find a new place and move.

Yay?

So, if you have any spare prayers lying about, I'd sure appreciate them.

Gearing Up for the Investiture

2006-08-23T09:06:00.000-07:00

My to-do list for the pilgrimmage to Washington, DC in November is coming together. This week I'm going to be purchasing plane tickets and sleeping space at a youth hostel. Finding an outfit for the actual ceremony and figuring out how light to travel are also on the list.

There is something I'd forgotten to put on the list until today: prayer. Beyond the obvious ones for our Presiding Bishop-Elect and all deacons, priests, and bishops, but prayers for safe travel for those of us who are traveling long and short distances, prayers for the inevitable protestors, prayers for those who will be attending in spirit only.

2006-08-21T08:35:00.000-07:00

You ever get that feeling that the music director has picked hymns just to piss you off?

This is a rare problem at A Certain Church, because the music director is a sensible man, who won't make us sing some of the funkier, syncopated songs out of Lift Every Voice and Sing II because he realises what a train wreck the congregation will make out of it. Oddly enough, this also applies to #6 in LEVAS II, which is Lift Every Voice and Sing.

Well, we had a combined event this weekend, and the other parish got to pick the music.

Shine, Jesus, Shine was the closing hymn.

I do not sing Shine, Jesus, Shine.

I just don't. And you can't make me.

My rambling thoughts on this Friday

2006-08-18T11:22:00.000-07:00

My opinions and prejudices hold absolutely no weight with anyone else. They are meaningless outside of my head.

Which also means that the opinions and prejudices of others (including you, dear reader), are meaningless and weightless.

What would happen if we stopped trying to create other people in our own image? Not just saying, "Oh, it would be nice if one day we could stop (when they all agree with us)", but just today, decide to stop.

Even for just ten minutes.

puts lampshade on head

2006-08-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

Happy Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary!

Yes, I know that it's kinda a sticking point theologically for some Christians. But confound it, it's my name day, and I'm Episcopalian. Episcopalians are the best theological procrastinators around. "I'll worry out the nuts and bolts about the Assumption later. I've got Vacation Bible School to run and a public fast and witness for peace to perform instead of my vacay. (p.s. I think the Archbishop of York is not only the cutest thing ever, but also the coolest. How come the ABC isn't doing this? Hmmmm?)

Anyway, have a blessed day, and if you know someone named Mary (it's a great name, consider it for your children!) do something nice for them today.

Nonlinear Meditations on "I Want My MTV"

2006-08-10T08:33:00.000-07:00

I spend a lot of time thinking about marketing.

Not because I work in a purchasing department (by the time I get involved in a cash-for-goods/services transaction, all the details have been hammered out, and I'm basically here to tie the bow on the package), but because in this society, you cannot escape marketing. In such a society, whenever there's an idea that needs transmitting, it has to be couched in the language of marketing. Even the conversation my cubiclemate and I had regarding a television show last night is, to the network that aired it and the show's producers, marketing the show.

We have been marketed to so much that we are simply running out of attention span. So, the marketing has to become bolder, more outrageous, more pervasive, insisting constantly that it's the NEW GREAT THING, and that you need to buy t-shirts and books and stickers that proclaim it as such. Look around next time you're in a public space, count how many corporate logos are displayed boldly on cars, buildings, and people.

I like to think that I don't fall into this category, that I can look at myself and see someone who is not shilling for corporations, but I carry a coffee mug with my favorite coffeeshop's logo. The plastic bag I toted my made-at-home lunch to work in has the grocery store's name in big green letters. The shirt I'm going to go home and change into was a promotional item I purchased at a fundraising screening of a film, so it not only has the distinctive logo of the film, it's got the equally distinctive logo of the charitable agency we raised the money for. Even my shoes leave traced in the dust as I pass the name of the company that sold them to me.

Within all this marketing babble, I am a Christian. Which means I have something that I think is pretty cool, that's changed my life, that's given me a completely different perspective on the world, and that calls me to tell others about this amazing change in my life.

Well, shoot, what's the best way to tell others in a market-driven culture about Christianity? Mass-market-multi-media campaign, of course! Books, movie tie-ins, t-shirts, pins, commercials, slick print ads, and firms who will not only give you reports on the statistical makeup of your neighborhood, but the percentage of those people who would go to a church if only it had program n available.

How did Jesus and the Apostles do it without these useful marketing tools?

Think about how they did it. A large percentage of the Gospels is Jesus talking to individuals. A large percentage of the New Testament are letters, and those letters have advice, greetings, and prayers for specific people. Christianity, in my mind, is about the relationship between God and humans, a relationship that cannot be carried out by individuals alone. Jesus didn't say, "Whenever you sit at home and think spiritual thoughts, I am there", Jesus said, "Whenever two or more are gathered..."

The mass-market-multi-media campaigns can help that, sure enough. Get some behinds into the seats, some more pocket change into the collection plate. But you cannot rest on those headcount laurels. The individual connections, the relationships formed between members of the church are equally as important. And it's not the sole duty of the Welcoming Committee, the Greeters, the Parish Council, to make those connections.

2006-08-07T15:05:00.000-07:00

Sr. Mary Hasta's Ten Practical Tips on Prayer

1. Never ask God “Why?” because the answer is, inevitably, “Because I AM said so.”Likewise, don’t pray for patience, ‘cause God will make you learn it the hard way, and if you’re stubborn like me, you wind up with physical scars. Ow.

2. Don’t pray for a pony unless you like mucking out stalls.

3. Any burning in your heart should first be treated with antacids. If that doesn’t stop it, then consult a gastrointestinal medical professional. If it persists, consult a spiritual professional.

4. Praying for someone to die makes the Baby Jesus cry. Praying for your sports team to win makes the Baby Jesus laugh at you. Praying with gritted teeth for someone you intensely dislike makes the Baby Jesus laugh, but that’s just ‘cause He’s finally getting his way.

5. Signs from heaven don't come in neon.

6. The warm fuzzies you get from a new practice will go away. That does not mean that God has gone away, and that doesn’t mean it’s time to find something else to try.

7. No answer doesn’t mean there’s no one on the other end of the line.

8. Our God loves us too much to speak to us like an announcer over the PA system at the grocery store. When God speaks to you, it’s much more personal.

9. No accessories are needed to communicate with God, but it’s okay to use them if you need help concentrating.

10. No one ever said it was going to be easy. It’s called a ‘practice’ and a ‘discipline’ for a reason.

2006-08-03T10:06:00.000-07:00

I am biting my tongue to keep fron singing right now. I have the Gloria used at my church (from Lift Every Voice and Sing vol. II) running through my head in full stereo surround-sound, and it's all I can do to keep myself from joining in.

I think my cubicle mates wouldn't appreciate it.

Bleh.

2006-08-02T10:11:00.000-07:00

The blogosphere is pretty much doing nothing but making me feel angry and powerless.

So I'm going to take a wee break. If you need me, I'll be over there ---->, praying.

I am neither a prophet nor a prophet's daughter...

2006-07-30T21:33:00.000-07:00

Anyone who may tell you that I interrupted two seminary students arguing Biblical Interpretation and the Three-Legged Stool, handed them trays, and said, "Go and live your Gospel! Feed these hungry kids!" is LYING.

One of them doesn't go into seminary until September.

Coming from you, 'friend' is a four-letter word.

2006-07-27T09:48:00.000-07:00

Grar. I'm going to vent now. There's going to be very little high-fluffy-can't-we-all-just-get-along content, so you can skip this, I won't get mad.

* * * * *

I really, really, really love my friends. I have great friends. I don't make friends easily, so the ones I do have I keep around for a long time, like, more than half my life.

Of course, that becomes problematic if, you know, at one point you had a friend who became more-than-a-friend who went back to being a friend and for some reason (maybe from watching too much Sex in the City) believes it's now their job to ensure that you are getting laid.

No, seriously, after saying, "Hi, darlin'!" when I called, the next words out of my friend's mouth were, "Are you getting laid?"

First of all, NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!

Second of all, NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!

Ai yah, hui-ah lei! Can people PLEASE stop thinking with their gonads / about other people's gonads for just TEN MINUTES?

If you'll excuse me, now I have to go place some orders for the OB/GYN department.

A couple of things you were just dying to know...

2006-07-26T08:31:00.000-07:00

1) I went ahead and got a Voodoo doughnut of my very own today, so you can stop worrying about my immortal soul, and start worrying about my hips.

2) I think I'm going to try and go to Washington, DC for the Investiture of the new Presiding Bishop. Even if I don't get tickets to the actual party, there are going to be some interesting protests to watch, I tell you what. And November is the absolute best time to go to DC, and I haven't been to the East Coast since 2001 and the last time I went to the Smithsonian, they'd just broken ground on the American Indian Museum... and dangit, I'm 26 years old and I'll go on a 2800 mile, fiscally-ill-advised trip if I want to! *stamps foot*

I'm too lazy to be a fundamentalist.

2006-07-25T10:11:00.000-07:00

I've tried, several times in my life, to follow a more-- drastic version of Christianity.

I'm just too lazy to be a fundamentalist (either liberal or conservative), and I'm reminded of that fact when I read articles like this one. There are just so many *rules* to follow, and too many things to worry about all day (OMG, is my chest covered enough that I'm not a temptation to others, and exposed enough to show I'm not ashamed of being female? Was that television show blasphemous for showing demons, or misogynistic 'cause the demon was totally going to sacrifice a woman? Is my desire for a doughnut shaped like a voodoo doll a sin of gluttony, a sin of overcomsumption of the earth's resources, encouragement of witchcraft, insensitive to Vauduan practitioners, or just plain coveting my cubicle-neighbor's breakfast?)

[Dangit. Now I really want a doughnut.]

Sometimes, though, it would be very, very nice to have All The Answers™. Although, as I read more and more on what draws people into fundamentalist groups on both sides of the fence, the most common thing that draws people into these groups is the people are nice to them. They invite them to meetings. They share food. They invite them to come back.

They listen to their hopes, fears, and dreams, and then give people a goal greater than their individual selves to strive for.

Is that what's missing in these big, empty churches?

shakes head

2006-07-23T20:51:00.000-07:00

According to this NY Times article (annoying registration required), people are now hiring funeral planners, who will take care of planning the memorial service, the catering, and the post-funeral golfing trip.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot??

Seriously, if you have that much money to waste, I know a couple of rather good charities.

Occam's Razor as Applied to World Peace

2006-07-19T10:04:00.000-07:00

I come from a long line of educators (and if National University, the place I graduated from an entire year ago and they have somehow yet to send me any of my accredidations and licenses, would get off their behinds-- I will join that line). A lot of my family works with high-risk populations.

Dealing day-in and day-out with high-risk populations, you develop a situational vocabulary much different from that of dealing with normal-risk populations. And that vocabulary really the only difference between high-risk and normal-risk populations, because if you tell a normal-risk to "knock that crap off and get back to work", the normal-risk student's parents will be in the principal's office demanding to know where you get off talking to their child like that.

One day, Mtr. Mother was driving down the road, and she was stopped at a light in a not-terribly-nice part of town. One young man (still in his teens), a few feet away on the sidewalk, pulled out a gun and started firing into the crowd at a bus stop. Mtr. Mother (a middle-aged, overweigh woman in a business suit) jumped out of the minivan and yelled at the top of her lungs, "What the HELL do you think you're doing?"

The young man startled, looked into her eyes, dropped the gun, and ran like hell.

Mtr. Mother will be the first one to tell you what she did was purely instinctual, and utterly crazy. But you know what? I bet you five dollars that if we parachuted in a battalion of teachers and grandmothers (especially those with big purses), we'd have world peace right quick.

The reason, though, that caused Mtr. Mother to jump out of the van was she saw someone in trouble, and she just reacted.

*Looks around this world* I dunno about you, but I see some people who need to be asked just what the hell they are doing. Politicians, religious leaders, the guy in the house next door, bloggers...

I double-dog dare you.

No words.

2006-07-17T14:05:00.000-07:00

I've just gone through my blogroll's accumulated aggregations from the weekend.

I saw angry Christians, I saw upset Christians, I saw thinking Christians... didn't see any happy Christians. I didn't see anything that made me say, "Ayup, I'm really glad I'm a Christian!"

Actually, I saw one thing that made me wish I was still practicing Buddhisim, and that was on a Christian blog.

Why does the Internet bring so much of the rougher side of our natures out? Why do we spend so much of our time here arguing amongst ourselves, when we have a global forum the Apostles would have plotzed themselves to have, we have the ability to reach people across all sections and sectors of global society.

What *is* the point of being a Christian? Because I'm not seeing anything, really.

Please pray for M's family, as he was found dead of a gunshot wound last week.

Grumpy Friday

2006-07-14T09:38:00.000-07:00

I really, really, REALLY want one of those t-shirts that says "My manner of life poses a challenge to the wider church."

Unfortunately, if I wore it around Portland, no one would get it. 85% of this town does not go to church, and of that teensy-weensy percentage that do, an even smaller percentage are Episcopalian, and of that eeeny-meeny percentage of people who go to church and are Episcopalian, a squinchy-winchy percentage are the kind who keep up with Church politics and know that more went on at GC2006 [quota!] than electing someone with girl cooties as Presiding Bishop.

Actually, that would be a better t-shirt. My Presiding Bishop has girl cooties!

I'm thinking a lot about what the Church looks like to the rest of the world right now because A Certain Church has formed a Communications Committee, and I'm on it. I now know that the Greatest Commandment I learned when I was a United Methodist is a direct result of Apostolic Succession, since Episcopalians also follow it. The Greatest Commandment, by the way, is Wherever two or more are gathered in My name, form a committee and bring a covered dish.

Everyone's getting excited and deciding where we should spend our not-yet-allocated advertising budget. They're talking about logos and outreach and I've even heard someone mention the thing that strikes fear into my heart: Saturday Night Young Adult Services.

I must be turning into a reactionary in my impending old age (I'll be turning 27 in September), because my first thought was, "I don't want to change!" I joined A Certain Church because it's small, because in such a small place I'm known and my skills are not just that I'm a Young Person™, but my ideas and talents and energies are also needed just to get things done on a weekly basis.

And my second thought was, "How will these advertising budgets and SNYAS distinguish us from the other bazillion tiny churches in the area? How will they show off the special callings of A Certain Church, the things that make me return every week and throw so much of my ideas and talents and energies into it?"

And the reason I'm grumpy? I don't know if I have even a hint of where to find the answers to these questions.

Hmpf.

I dreamt about blogging.

2006-07-10T10:47:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not kidding. Surrounded by God's glorious creation, up a mountain with no Internet connection, after spending many hours spent in meditation (both on the Scriptures and on The Food Network), I had a dream about blogging.

And you were there.
And you were there.
You? I don't know you. Who are you? How'd you get into my house?!

I'd taken a whole bunch of books on St. Francis with me, hoping to catch up on my reading. However, there is a branch of Powells in the terminal, coincidentally next to my gate, and they had a copy of one of my favorite scifi author's new 700-page novel--- AUTOGRAPHED! Which makes me mad, since that means she was *in* Portland and I missed her. Grrr. Oh, well, the nice thing about Powells is they don't hike the price just 'cause it's autographed.

When I was done with that (and it took until Thursday), I started re-reading In the Spirit of Happiness (which really has nothing to do with dogs, no matter what the blurb says). Which EVERYONE needs to read. Seriously.

As for now, I jumped back into the real world with both feet, and am still trying to catch up. I had all these big plans about getting my life in order and balancing work/prayer/rest-- HA!

But I'm not giving up!

And because God knows we Episcopalian bloggers can't post anything without mentioning GC 2006, if you haven't read this post at Fr. Jake's place, you really need to. It's a copy of a .pdf that outlines some of the claims made by various people (you know who you are!) about what went on at the Convention, and what *really* happened. The most important bit to me:

Claim: That Presiding Bishop-elect, Katharine Jefferts Schori, introduced radical feminist theology by referring to “Mother Jesus” in her homily at General Convention.

Fact: The image of “Mother Jesus” was used widely among patristic and Medieval theologians and Christian mystics [...] These church heavyweights got their inspiration from the Bible, which itself uses such imagery. See, for example, Deuteronomy 32:18; Isaiah 46:3–4; Hosea 13:8; and Mathew 23:37.
(emphasis mine, Copyright © 2006 by Progressive Episcopalians of Pittsburgh, http://progressiveepiscopalians.org)

Country roads take me home.

2006-06-30T09:34:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I fly from PDX to SMF, and from there my dad's pickup truck will drive from I-80 to Highway 121. On a certain bend in the twisty highway, we will turn off the paved road and bump and bumble over gravel for a mile and a half, until we pull into the driveway of my parent's house. The house my parents live in is 100 yards from the house my grandmother grew up in, and it's 20 minutes to the nearest grocery store (but only 15 minutes from the nearest fine restaurant, and 10 from the nearest winery).

So, hey, not just a fun song lyric, but a true subject line!

And I'm so ready to be far from 'civilization', on retreat with my extensive, extended family. I caught myself this morning thinking how much easier my life would be if I could be one of those 'spiritual, not religious' people. Sleep in on Sunday, read Digg.com instead of Titus 1:9, care more about what Nick Lachey and Paris Hilton said than what Pope Benedict XVI and Katherine Jefferts Schori said. Heck, this week of vacation could truly be that for me, I could even leave my prayer book and bible in Portland!

And as soon as that thought had crossed my mind, I said to myself, "But then I wouldn't go to Little!Church."

The first Episcopal Church I ever attended was Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento. The first Episcopal Church that welcomed me and invited me to share all of my time, talents and treasure was Little!Church*. I walked into that church, and I was immediately welcomed as a long-lost family member, given a place at both the Eucharistic Table and the brunch table. And the hardest part of moving to Portland was giving up the Little!Church family that had nurtured me through so much in the short years I was there.

I'll be returning to Little!Church exactly 365 days after I left it. And yes, there will probably be some changed faces, but I'm absolutely 100% certain that, no matter what happened at General Convention, no matter what happened in the Diocesan Convention, no matter what happened at the last vestry meeting, no matter what politics have tried to do to the Church I love, there is a seat for me.

*I'd tell you what church it was, but since it really was teeny-tiny and EVERYONE knew me, and I'm still trying to preserve my anonymity, it's Little!Church. If you're in the East Sacramento Metropolitan Area looking for a parish, email me and I'll point you to it.

100th post!

2006-06-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

And boy, I wish it was something more deep and meaningful. I am working on a deep and meaningful essay (so what if it's based on a scifi movie, and All Things Seen and Unseen beat me to it?) but my real-world job is in this interesting phase called "End of Fiscal Year", which means I'm just about up to my ears in all the wacky fun I could ever want.

I must add the response at A Certain Church to the General Convention. One of our parishoners was an alternate, but I didn't get to talk to her much because she was caring for the babies and I was on coffee-handing-out duty (these aren't official rostered duties, they're just gigs that people pick up as they see a need). Anyway, before the Prayers of the People, my (female) priest (ordained 22 years this week) said, "Well, this time last week we were praying for the guidance of the Holy Spirit-- hallelujah! Praise Jesus!" and my (female) deacon (ordained 23 years ago last week) led the applause and laughter.

So, now I leave you with a couple of quotes to ponder:

From Hellboy:

Seargeant: Are you a Catholic?
Professor: Yes, among other things.

From Serenity:

Jayne: Shepherd used to tell me, "If you can't do something smart, do something right."

Meditation

2006-06-23T08:56:00.000-07:00

All laud we would render; O help us to see
’Tis only the splendor of light hideth Thee.

Immortal, invisible, God only wise

I have no words.

2006-06-22T09:29:00.000-07:00

Pisco, you've made me speechless!

From ePisco Sours, here:

One last thought about General Convention:

Abraham was praised for offering his son Isaac as a sacrifice simply because God said so. Did anyone think to ask Isaac about it?

At least in the end, God provided a ram to be an acceptable substitute, because human sacrifice is abhorrent to him. And if God is now calling for LGBT people to be bound up as a sacrifice for his glory, shouldn’t we trust in him also to provide a way out, to show us that he really doesn’t want a sacrifice of broken and despairing lives on his altar?

Woah, where'd this beam come from?

2006-06-21T14:01:00.000-07:00

So, you can't hardly spit in the Christian blogosphere without finding someone who has an opinion on the election of +Jefferts Schori to the office of Presiding Bishop.

Unless you go over to the Mormon blogs, which I sometimes do. Because I have a fascination with late 19th century religious movements. It keeps me out of trouble and off of drugs, okay?

And something I keep seeing in the comments and blog posts of liberal/progressive/whatever they're calling themselves this week (I got listed somewhere as a progressive, which made me giggle a lot) is referring to conservative's/fundamentalist's 'ingrained prejudices' that are 'a result of their upbringing'.

To paraphrase my great-grandfather (a wise and holy man): "Oh puh-leaze. Like a liberal's poop don't stink."

Seriously, though, everyone take a few minutes right here and have a look-see at their own prejudices. Quickest way is to take whatever side you aren't (so if you're a snarkwor you take nom-nom, and if you're a nom-nom, you take snarkwor) and write it on the top of a piece of paper.

Now, you have thirty seconds to write down everything that comes to mind when you think of that other side.

Ready,
Set,
GO!

Done?

Okay, now what are you going to do about your own prejudices? 'Cause, I can tell you from experience, it's a lot easier to change your own prejudices than it is to change someone else's.

Anyone read 1Timothy lately?

2006-06-20T10:44:00.000-07:00

Okay, follow the bouncing ball: An Inch At A Time pointed to Meditato's post General Convention: Monday, Monday. John+ says,

One 18 year-old deputy saw right through the duplicity of it all. He noted that the last resolve apologizes to gay men and lesbians for the actions of this resolution, and pointed out that if we need to apologize for it, why are we doing it in the first place?

And then Susan+ says:

Quite a contrast to Special Committee member Dan Martins (San Joaquin) whose advice to Convention was to "hold your nose and vote for this."

Let those who have eyeballs comprehend.

In other GC2006 news.... They still haven't consented on the election of Rev. Canon Barry Beisner! *flails*

GET OVER IT, PEOPLE! We don't need the ecclesiastically and politically correct in the top slots right now. We need the best person for the gig. Canon Barry is the best person for the gig.

Do I need to come over there? Seriously, I'll bring my booty-kicking boots.

Bwahahahahahaaaa! snerk

2006-06-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

I have a well-developed sense of the absurd.

I think, maybe, it's a gift of the Holy Spirit.

Why else would I be pausing every few minutes to have myself a good giggle over the election of Katharine Jefferts Schori as Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church of the United States of America?

I was just saying to myself last night that the election was probably going to go in a direction that no one in the blogosphere would see coming. Heck, *I* didn't see it coming, I thought that the cute little Bishop Francisco Duque-Gomez from Colombia would be elected, and I kinda liked him.

It's just the way that the Holy Spirit, in my experience, likes to operate. The Holy Spirit has this annoying habit of backing the underdog.

God bless +Jefferts Schori as she prepares to lead this wacky, wild, wooly bunch into the world.

Heeeee. Our Presiding Bishop is a GIRL!

What the ever-loving flying monkeys?

2006-06-16T08:42:00.000-07:00

Poor Deacon Tim. By the luck of the blogroll, his blog is where I found out that the Joint Legislative Committie on Consecration of Bishops called Bishop-elect Rev. Canon Barry Beisner back up to give testimony. I.E. they're thinking about not giving the go-ahead to the consecration of my buddy Barry.

Why?

He's been divorced twice and married three times.

Please see subject line for my reaction.
Please see here for why I'm reacting that way.
Have these complainants ever MET Barry? Sat with him in a room filled with very angry people and watched him defuse the situation with mere words and presence? Seen him change his mind and throw his whole heart behind it, going to bat with the Bishop for your cause?

I have.

If I could, I'd import him up to Oregon so he could be my bishop. Not that I don't like Bishop Itty, he's a nice guy. But Barry's something special, dude.

Jesus walked on water when he should have surfed.

2006-06-15T10:13:00.000-07:00

Feast of Corpus Christi
Today's lyric title comes from Ben Harper. I don't remember the song, sorry.

I really want to post a Tacos and Comics Day post, because of the big events in Marvel's Civil War #2, and also to highlight my favorite book right now, Runaways. I want to write a post about the power of names and who Santa Ignora is.

I just can't get the words out. I'm reading the news from ECUSA General Convention the same way I read the news on October 12th, 2000. You probably don't remember that day.

I remember sitting on the couch, watching television, and they cut in with the news that a "US Navy ship had been attacked in the Persian Gulf, more news when we dang well feel like it."

One of the loves of my life was on a US Navy ship in the Persian Gulf at that time. CNN was not giving up the name of the ship, and this was before the Internet had news faster than the televsion. So I sat and jittered for probably an hour and a half, until I discovered it wasn't the ship my loved one was on. It was the USS Cole.

The General Convention news has the same flavor, especially that out there in the blogosphere. I'm only peripheraly connected, as no matter what happens I'm pretty sure my tiny parish will continue to love me, as I love them. But my eyes are constantly glancing towards Ohio, wondering which of my loved ones are going to be injured by the decisions, who is going to come out of this scarred, who is going to survive with the memories weighing heavily on them.

And, just in case you haven't noticed, despite all my working for an understanding of both sides, I do list heavily towards the liberal side. One thing I've noticed, in all the yakkity-yak, is that the liberal side is the one calling for the Holy Spirit to move. Why? Because the conservatives say we've turned our backs on the Holy Spirit. Shucks, I know that's not true, at least in my own life.

But if the Holy Spirit is moving and working through the liberal side of the church, does that mean the Holy Spirit isn't moving and working through the conservative side?
Is the Holy Spirit constrained by linear space-time?
Can we honestly and truly say, "We've got the Spirit, neener neener neener, you can't have any"?

Admitting that the conservatives might just also be following the Holy Spirit makes my liver hurt. And I'm supposed to be standing up as a representative of mediation and listening and cooperation. Well, I guess I'm just an imperfect human being. I know, I know, you're all terribly crushed by this revelation.

So, I've put forth before the theorem that the Church is broken in half.
I now put forth the theorem that the Holy Spirit is still working in and through the two halves.
The next step? Get the two halves TALKING.

And the first person who starts laying blame for who broke the Church has to buy the next round of drinks.

Let me put this in terms that we all will probably understand: Jesus gave us this Church, a fragile and delicate vase. We got to squabbling over it, and it fell down and shattered. Jesus is coming back, and we don't know when, it could be any minute. So, we can either sit around fighting about who broke the Church, or we can run, get some superglue, and start putting the pieces back together.

Where do you want to be when Jesus comes back?

Trinity Sunday and General Convention

2006-06-11T13:05:00.000-07:00

I have always found this Lego Trinity set speak to me, as only the best Christian art can. And no, I'm not saying this is the best Christian art, worlds from it (and yes, I understand it's not *really* the Holy Ghost, it's the Holy Spirit). Because you know what this says to me? Don't take yourself and your religion so seriously.

I haven't been around a lot lately. I'm working through some real life crazy business, ingluding wondering what purpose it serves for me to write under a pseudonym here. Yes, I'm having trouble keeping my split personality straight, whodathunk it?

In other news that seems to be the only news that the Episcopal blogosphere can talk about, it's General Convention. I'm so sick of it already. There's this class my parish is offering and I've been taking, on the history and the development of the liturgy. Today we made it up to 313 CE, with Constantine. And in that scant 300 years, there'd been two schisms already, and several heresies floating around.

You know what I'm learning from this? I'm learning that what Fr. Andrew Greely says is true: if God wanted the Church to be perfect, He would have left it in the hands of the angels, not us mere humans.

And another thing that I'm reminded of: The Church will endure.

God our Wisdom, who eternally makes all things new:
encourage by your Holy Spirit
those who prepare for General Convention to labor together
for the building up of your world and your Church;
counsel them when to act and when to wait;
turn their hearts always toward those in greatest need,
and away from their own preoccupations and fears;
help them never forget that love and mercy are your greatest gifts
given us all to offer one another
as we see in them Jesus Christ who alone
is our joy, our way, our truth, and our life. Amen.

Welcome to 3am.

2006-06-09T19:33:00.000-07:00

One of the more intersting thigns about having chronic insomnia is the fear of sleep.

Yeah, that's right. I'm afraid of going to sleep when I'm tired. This logic, it is not our Earth logic. It's crazy troll-logic!

It's 7.30pm right now, and I'm afraid that if I fall asleep at this moment (as my body is threatening to do), I'll wake up bright eyed and bushy-tailed at 1am. Which would put me in a bad way by the time the vestry meeting tomorrow rolls around, and we're discussing hot-button issues. Me plus hot-button issues is equal to snakes plus plane: it seems like a good idea to let me loose on them, unless you're the one stuck with me and them in a small space with no exit.

raar. fear my bloodshot eyes!

I love those people who say, "Well, you've got insomnia, you must get a lot of work/writing/reading/praying done when you're awake in the middle of the night and you have no distractions." No, when I'm awake and I can't sleep, I'm curled up in bed with my eyes closed, trying to will myself back to sleep so I'm not slagged in the morning.

The world looks a lot different from 3am than it does from 2pm. Really, at 3am, you don't care who's got valid apostolic succession. As a matter of fact, you would kick each and every bishop in the lower 48 in the head if it would guarantee you a solid night's rest.

And on those nights when you've seen every second from 3am to 3pm, that same sense of dissonance rings in your ears. You're half a step outside of the 'real world', no matter how much coffee you drink. Advertisements are white noise, cars are loud and their petrol stink makes you sick to your stomach, polyester--- oy. Don't even go there. You have to slow down, because otherwise you might fall down. And from this lessened pace, you realise exactly how frenetic this world has become, you can see the stupid, silly, crazy arguments that divide people in a new light.

I wonder what would happen if we all spent a couple of nights sitting up together.

The Prodigal Returns from Her Adventures

2006-06-06T19:10:00.000-07:00

For this auspicious day, I had a devilishly good Caesar salad. I used romaine hearts and added dandelion greens. Yummers.

I spent the weekend in California, visiting my family. It was a surprise visit; Mtr. Mother didn't know I was coming and Sr. Sister managed to keep it a secret even though she's currently living with the Parent Parents.

It was a good party, 'good party' being defined as I didn't get so drunk I don't remember much of the event, no one got bit by a rattlesnake, and my sunburn faded after a day or so. But being around my family, especially after a long absence, brings forth some ugly things about my personality, things that I thought I'd been working on but went right smack back to doing as soon as I was immersed in that environment. So, if I threaten to kick you or insult you in the next week or so, that's actually a sign of affection.

Yes, I know I'm messed up in the head. And knowing is half the battle.

I also felt rather alone at certain parts of the Adventure, especially when I was alone with Sr. Sister and my cousins. I've always said we had nothing in common, and when they talk for hours about hook ups and "That time I was drunk with ---" I just really have nothing to add to the conversation. I'm not saying I'm a saint, I just don't do that kind of thing. When I woke up in my cousin's leather armchair, in the clothes I'd been wearing for 36 hours straight, my second thought was, "Dude, I'm getting too old for this."

My third thought was, "That's sad, I'm only twenty-six years old."

My first thought was, "Why is Sr. Sister's butt singing 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go' at six a.m. in the morning?"

As things usually do when I'm thinking about them, my thoughts turned back to How To Reach This Lost Generation. Maybe we could get Michelle Rodriguez to do some television commercials "Join the Church, Get A Cookie!"

Now, see, here's the problem with being a historian. I know for a fact that getting young people to church is not a new issue. St. Augustine of Hippo, heard of him? He turned out all right, after a lot of prayers from his momma. I really wonder what would happen if we stopped worrying about focus groups and activities and such and started praying by name for those young people who grew up in church and stopped attending, pray by name for our family members whose lives seem out of control and dangerous, pray by name for the neighborhood kids.

It seems like any more, all I can do is wonder and pray.

Meer meer meer.

2006-06-02T08:37:00.000-07:00

Where have I been?

Procrastination. Population: Me. Took a side trip through Depression.

To sum up in TeacherWords, my spiritual director gave me back my Rule of Life for revising. Again.

Some parts are too vauge. Some parts are too restrictive. The whole thing's too long.

I'm about to throw it down on the ground, buy a WWJD? bracelet and join the local bastion of the Health and Wealth gospel.

Making my own choices and being disciplined on my own is HARD!

Right now, I'm waiting for my Hippie Don't-Get-Sick Herb Tablets to dissolve in hot water, which takes for-flaming-ever. I've got a cubiclebuddy who's sick, and I'm going to be on airplanes a lot this weekend, so I really don't want to catch anything.

And such is the life of the fake nun. Meer, meer, meer, liek, woah.

My Spiritual Director is so much cooler than yours. Neener.

2006-05-25T12:04:00.000-07:00

Names have been pseudonymed to protect the guilty (namely, your o'b't Sister).

Hey [Director Extraordinaire],
I'm having some issues with getting my rule of life revised. I know I'm supposed to have it to you by Sunday, but can I have another week?
Thanks,
[Sr. Mary Hasta, OSI]
* * * * * * *
Hello [Sr. M-H],
What kind of trouble? External issues, or internal?
Peace,
[D E, which doesn't mean Death Eater]
* * * * * * *
[D E],
Some external stressors, but mostly internal. I'm just kinda hormonal and having mood swings of DOOM!, I think I only really need another week or so.
[Sr. M-H]
* * * * * * *
[Sr. M-H],
You're letting your depression make you a wuss. In penance, listen to all of Hot August Nights II. When you get to Holly Holy, start writing again.

Think about it, if you create a rule that you can carry out when you're in one of these funks, then it'll be super-easy to carry out when you're better.
Peace,
[D E]
* * * * * * *
In a totally unrelated bit of news, not only is today the Asenscion of our Lord, not only is it the Feast of St. Bede, it is also the Feast of [St.] Douglas Adams, commonly known as Towel Day.

Do you believe in the one big song?

2006-05-24T22:43:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Cynthia over at Mormon 2 Catholic 'cause she's pretty cool, and I've got this wierd fascination with all things Mormon. One of my life's dreams is to go to Salt Lake City and stand in Temple Square and ask awkward theological questions of the fresh-faced Mishie Sissies (Missionary Sisters) who double as tour guides. Because I am a cruel woman. I also like convert stories, and Catholics, so, all sorts of things to get my groove on there.

So I read this post at Cynthia's place. Here's the bit that jumped out and bit me on the ass (she's actually quoting something that Ma Back said at the Ward Wide Web and has her own meditation on this, my response does not in any way reflect on hers, bla bla bla, usual disclaimer stuff, don't yell at her if you don't like what I say, but go read Cynthia's blog 'cause consarnd it, she's cool!):

Every single time you stand in the line to receive Holy Communion, you're making a statement to the world.
This statement includes the following:
I believe in every single item of the Apostles' and Nicene Creeds.
I believe 100% in what the Catholic Church teaches about homosexuality.
I believe 100% in what the Catholic Church teaches about contraception.
I believe 100% in what the Catholic Church teaches about capital punishment.
I believe 100% in what the Catholic Church teaches about Euthanasia.
I believe 100% in what the Catholic Church teaches about abortion.
I believe in the Papacy, and I believe in the succession from St. Peter to Benedict XVI.
I believe 100% in the mystery of transubstantiation, and I believe in the Church's teaching that in order to receive our Lord in Holy Communion, my soul should be in a state of grace. For all but the most heroic of Catholics, this probably means Confession at least once a month.

So, beyond the Anglo-Catholic pedantery that it should be ROMAN Catholic Church in there... what the heck?

No, seriously. Call me an intellectual if you want, but I don't 100% believe ANYTHING.

Sun's gonna rise tomorrow?
I want empirical proof.
First person to say "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believed" will get a withering glare.

So, maybe I'm not good enough to be a member of the [Roman] Catholic Church, then. Sorry. I don't believe every part of the Apostle's Creed. Jesus went to Hell? And did what, had a surf party? Couple of mai tais with his estranged buddies, the Fallen? How does that ring up with what happens in Revelations? What about Hell being a seperation from God; how can God be seperate from Godself? Et cetera, ad hominem, monkey flys. First line, ninth word in, I'm kicked out of the club.

One of the hardest things for me to do is get up out of the pew and take the long walk to the altar. Dude, I am sooo not worthy. I'm probably not the greatest of sinners (I don't think I've ever kicked a puppy), but I've done my fair share of sinning today, thought, word, and deed. Why do I take that long walk, heed that altar call, fall on my knees with my face to the rising sun?

Because.

Because I'm broken. I hurt. I'm not perfect. I doubt. I sin.

And each and every time I make that long walk, I acknowlege that I am imperfect, that I am in pain, that I need help. I acknowlege that I cannot do this thing called 'life' on my own.

I reach out my hands in supplication, and grace is freely given.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, amen.

*Today's post title is a lyric from Comfort Eagle by Cake.

Despierta, mi bien, despierta! Mira que ya amaneció!

2006-05-22T09:37:00.000-07:00

Estas son las mañanitas
que cantaba el Rey David.
Hoy por ser día de tu santo
te las cantamos a ti.

Despierta, mi bien, despierta,
mira que ya amaneció
ya los pajarillos cantan,
la luna ya se metió.

Today is the feast of St. Rita of Casica. On Thursday, the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ is bumping the feast of St. Bede. These are my two patron saints. And I must have the absolutely wierdest story about how I got these two patrons ever, seriously.

You have to understand, I was raised as a United Methodist in California. Our confirmation class taught us a lot about church history, sure, but our culminating trip involved attending five places of worship in San Francisco, and only one was Methodist. I was 12 years old and in my heart, an atheist.

I think all 12 year olds are atheists to one degree or another, really.

So, no patron saint for me at my confirmation. Nope.

I picked up St. Rita as a patron due to an advertisement for margaritas in a Mexican restaurant when I was 18. My friend, who was eating with me, decided my name should be 'Rita' (we did this kind of renaming thing all the time, I still answer to 'Steve' thanks to the movie Multiplicity and a NYE party involving more sugar than should be consumed by teenagers, ever). About two hours later, we passed by St. Rita Catholic Church, and my friend thought it was hysterical. I started keeping an eye out for St. Rita things, and wound up with a collection. The more I read about her, the more I realised she and I had some things in common about our lives. When I finally got over my Methodist-bred aversion to the Saints, it made sense to me to ask for prayers from the one saint who I'd already collected sacramentals of: St. Rita.

St. Bede became my patron saint during an all-nighter in college. Because yes, I am the kind of person who thinks that a break from writing about genocide in Yugoslavia entails Googling information on the lives of saints. I happened upon a story about one of St. Bede's fellow monastics wandering by in the middle of the night to find a light in his room. The brother peeked in, and there was St. Bede reading, a little angel sitting on his shoulder to give him enough light to see the pages. That just tickled me pink, and so I printed off a copy of an ikon of St. Bede and taped it to the side of my monitor.

See? Told you they were silly stories. I'mna going to have to make cookies this week.

Today is the little mornings
That King David sang about.
Today is your [Name] Saint's Day*
And that's why we sing to you.

Wake up, my dear, wake up!
Look, see, it's dawn.
The birds are already singing
and the moon has set.

*this part is often translated as 'birthday'.

DaVinci Code vs. Hudson Hawk, and I Don't Care About Anglican Politics

2006-05-19T08:34:00.000-07:00

This is a two-part post, because I've got two things I really want to talk about, and they are nowhere near related. So if you don't care about movies, skip to the asterisks, if you don't care about Anglican politics, stop reading after the asterisks, and if you are bored already, go learn important life lessons from Ebenezer and Snootch.

So. The DaVinci Code. Didn't like the book, it was boring. Don't like Tom Hanks, he's creepy. Do like Alfred Molina, but he's not in it enough for me to actually make the effort to see the movie. Instead, I rented Hudson Hawk.

Hudson Hawk, for those of you who have never heard of it, is a comedy from 1991 starring Bruce Willis as a cat burglar just released from jail. He and his partner in crime (Danny Aiello), get caught between the CIA and a multinational corporation's quest for world domination (the completely insane heads of teh evol corporation are Richard Grant and Sandra Bernhard) using Leonardo Da Vinci's Maquina de Oro. Since the Vatican owns most of Da Vinci's stuff, they get involved, too (their rep is played by Andie MacDowell).

Meanwhile, Bruce and Danny sing, stuff blows up, there's great commentary on the cultural turmoil from the early 90s, and, as a caffeine addict, I can completely understand Bruce's quest throughout the movie to just get a cappuchino.

Final score: Hudson Hawk 1, DVC 0 -- Go rent Hudson Hawk.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Now, on to church politics, and the ramp-up to General Convention 2006. Has anyone noticed that the self-proclaimed Prophets of the Destruction of the Anglican Communion keep pushing back the Day of Doom! farther and farther? They were all certain it was going to be when the Dio.Cal elected a new bishop (and as Fr. Jake pointed out, there are more than three dioceses in CA, mea culpa). But oh, noes, that didn't happen, so they're circling GC06 like a pack of vultures. So much hot air is floating around, the Snarkwors and the Nom-Noms are circling their wagons, words are being exchanged, plans are being made for "When It Happens".

And honestly? I don't care any more. Split, don't split, what the flaming ever. If I woke up Sunday and the Anglican Communion was no more, I'd still be heading down to A Certain Church for the celebration of the Eucharist. If I woke up tomorrow and the Anglican Communion was no more, I'd still be heading down to A Certain Church to help feed the hungry coming to our door.

I just want to grab some of the bloggers and pundits and yes, even priests and bishops on both sides of the fence, who are making such a fuss, and gather them in a room, and clap my hands and say, "People, people, PEOPLE! No more frelling talk! There are mouths to feed and hands to hold and graves to dig and tears to wipe away! We've got a job to do, now get to work!"

Tacos and Comics Day - Spider Jerusalem

2006-05-17T07:59:00.000-07:00

Before we jump feet-first into Tacos and Comics Day, I wanted to relate this little thing that happened when I was spending some time meditating on revising my Rule of Life.

So, there I was, with my Bible open, dutifully reading along in a quiet corner of my room and praying for the Holy Spirit, and there was a song stuck in my head. And I was cheesed off. Even though I love the band that sings the song, confound it, I was trying to be holy! Then I bothered to listen to the words running over and over through my head:

Excess ain't rebellion,
You're drinkin' what they're selling.
Your self-destruction doesn't hurt them.
Your chaos won't convert them.

So, of course, I put that section of lyric as the header of one of the sections of my Rule. The song, by the way, is Cake's Rock and Roll Lifestyle.

So, on to the series Transmetropolitan, and its main character, Spider Jerusalem. Transmet is, alas, no longer a floppy, but you can get the collected issues in trade paperback form at most major bookstores (I can check them out at my public library, because I'm cool like that). Transmet is not for the faint at heart. How can I put this delicately? Oh, yeah, Spider's superpower is pottymouth and his main weapon is a bowel disruptor, which, when you're hit with its beam, makes you immediately poop your pants.

He's a jerk. He's not the kind of guy you want to bring home (unless you really, really hate your family). He does the bare minimum amount of work that he can get away with, beats up friends and enemies alike, and then gleefully trumpets his (and others') violence across all the news channels.

So, why do I like Spider Jerusalem? Because for all that he's a big ol' jerk, he is trying to make the world a better place. He actually cares about people, in a world where when you get sick of being a person, you can easily change your species. He challenges the ruling powers, and they fight back. He goes from riches to poverty to riches as regularly as a clock, and he still keeps writing the truth, as he sees it. You might even say he's a prophet for his age.

Sometimes, sometimes his words have great and profound effect, like stopping riots with his words. And other times, he just makes a little girl smile.

I like Spider Jerusalem because, when I think that this world can't get worse, and that I can't do anything to help, I can look into his world and see that, even when it does get worse, there's still ways to help.

And sometimes, it's just fun to watch him use the Chair Leg of Truth (it does not lie!)

If you want to read one of the Transmet issues, and I want to warn you, it's got all the usual goodies of nudity, cannibalisim, bad words, and dirty streets, go here. Dialup beware.

I've been arguing on the Internet / Even when I win, I lose

2006-05-16T09:46:00.000-07:00

You want to quibble over language? Become a lawyer, and then you, too can debate what the precise meaning of 'is' is.

You want to quibble over language and denounce people's souls to Hell? Become a Christian and get a blog.

You want to laugh your behind off? Read this article called The Interpretave Dance Theocrats, that defines some of the... special words that Christians use.

Premillenialism
This is the belief among some Christians that, ever since Jan. 1, 2000, it has no longer been possible, in the words of the Prince song, "to party like it's 1999." Postmillenialists are those Christians who believe that it will always be possible to do so, while Amillenialists believe that in this context, "1999" cannot be understood literally, but must be read as an allegorical term roughly meaning "a time at which it is especially appropriate to party."

Wait, wait, one more...

The Emerging Church
This is a term that refers to churches attended exclusively by white people in their 20s and 30s who have at least one tattoo or body piercing. Their distinguishing characteristics are a refreshing, "up to date" interpretation of Christianity, and a reluctance to directly answer questions.

(Thanks to Rev. Sam at Elizaphanian for the link.)

Prayer Requests

2006-05-15T08:23:00.000-07:00

Pisco has a question for everybody. How do you go about organizing your prayer lists?

Mtr. Mother always gives me three things in my Christmas stocking: a toothbrush, a grocery bag of tchotchkies and pens she picked up at trade shows, and a very fancy, very expenisve journal. This year's is about 3x5 inches and covered in handpainted watered silk. The first seventeen pages or so are labeled with days of the week and my family and friends are divided amongst them (I restricted family to first level, and it's about 59-62 people). The back pages are filled up with individual situations as they come up, and they get little stars when they no longer apply. A Certain Church has an insert in the bulletin every week, two pages, tiny font, that is the prayer intentions for the parish (and every name on that list is read, out loud, during the Prayers of the People). It gets folded up and stuck in the back of the journal. I carry it with me in my purse, so when I'm digging through looking for a candy and have a minute or three, I open it up and scroll through.

I also signed up recently for People2Pray.com, which is basically an online version of my expensive paper journal. I haven't fiddled around with it much, yet (bleaurghy), but for those of us who spend our days traveling from computer to computer, it could be useful.

While you're here, I'd like to point you all to this article by *Christopher, who says some things that I've been thinking about, but says them much better than I could (poke me with a stick if you want to hear why I call Seminary "The S Word of Doom"). It's a long one, but it's worth reading, re-reading, then printing out and leaving in strategic places in your church (such as the sacristry, the discernment director's mailbox, and that pew that's full of all those people who show up every Sunday but turn down every ministry opportunity offered to them).

Remember, thou art mortal.

2006-05-14T19:56:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I fell down on a totally flat, completely uncluttered piece of The Convent's floor. Since I'm terminally klutzy and therefore used to operating under a panoply of aches and pains, I didn't pay much attention until about a week later, when I was trying to figure out why my left foot was horribly swollen. Since I was able to walk on it, and it only hurt if I twisted it juuust right, I determined I'd sprained it.

Now, before everyone starts hollering, I don't have health insurance, but I do have nine years of classical ballet and seven of martial arts training (western sword), I know the difference between fractures, sprains, strains, tears, et cetera from personal experience.

I immediately called Sr. Sister, who had done some time as an Assistant Sports Therapist, for a refresher course in sprained ankles.

"How long am I looking at before I can start exercising?" I asked. Not that I was exercising when I hurt the ankle, but I've been thinking about joining a gym.

"Six to eight weeks, depending," Sr. Sister replied.

Flash forward to this Thursday, when I got some kind of stomach bug that's tearing its way through Portland. I decide, heck, I haven't been all bleaurghy in about twelve hours, it's been three weeks since I fell down went boom, it's a lovely day, I should start some mild physical therapy (PT), both to get my ankle back into shape, and myself back into something approaching going-to-the-gym shape.

Remember all that dance and martial arts training? My idea of mild is a three mile walk, followed by a half-hour of calisthenics and then another forty-five minutes of drills. I got about halfway through my warmup stretches and ditched everything but a couple of strength and balance drills. One of the balance drills is standing on one foot, unsupported. I used to be able to do this for upwards of fifteen minutes. When I was standing on my injured ankle, I think I made about two seconds.

I'd had these ideas of what my current physical shape was, and where I could go from there. I've had to drastically reevaluate them in these last few days, and resolve them downwards. I probably will never bench-press 350 again, I'd known that, but I'm now having to realise I'll probably be lucky if I can get up to 150.

I'm going to be looking pretty hard at my (personal, individual, no vowed obedience to any bishop, pastor, or book club) Rule of Life in these next few weeks. This was a scheduled review with my spiritual advisor. I know I'm nowhere near what I have written down, ergo the review. I'm a little scared about how much it's going to have to be reduced to actually fit into what I'm able to do. I've had these ideas of who I was, and who I wanted to be.

I think I'm ready to let them go, though. There's just no way I'm getting up at 5am for Morning Prayer and an hour of lecto divina, that's not who I am.

Christian Body Image

2006-05-11T07:25:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up with Rosary Face.

For those of you not familiar with this, it's what happens when you fall asleep with your prayer beads in your hand. Mine tend to migrate all over the bed, waking me up at odd times of night so I can fish them out of the small of my back, or from under my elbow, but they always wind up under my face in the morning.

Which means I spend a good amount of time rubbing, trying to get the marks off of my face. Especially if the crucifix winds up imprinted in my cheek.

So, now comes the question: why? It's something that happens, people have pillowface all the time. But it's not appropriate to show up to work with pillowface, right? I'm of course not talking about those of you who have real jobs, the kind where you can be called at any hour of the day or night to do your duty. I'm talking about us office workers, cubicle dwellers, meeting minions.

I've been watching America's Next Top Model (when it's not competing with Bones) recently. The first time I watched about five minutes before I said, "Waitaminute, I don't have to watch this stuff!" But the next week, I made myself flip over and watched forty-five minutes of it, because something about it had really disturbed me, and I needed to figure out what it was. Took me forty-five minutes to do so, too, which is a sad thing.

Here's what the problem is: These women, by virtue of being chosen for this show, had been told by everyone, including the media, that they were the height of beauty. And they were moving awkwardly, uncomfortably, they were moving in a way my dance teachers would look at them and say "they're uncomfortable in their bodies".

Let me explain: I am not a small woman. I weigh as much as three of those models put together, and that's not an exagerration. I'm also very short. I'm probably the only woman in any gathering of women who's not on a diet, and that information always shocks people, because of COURSE the fat girl wants to lose weight, right? Be skinny and therefore pretty, right?

I've done the starvation diets, I've done the pills, I've done the Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig and what I came out of there with was the knowledge that 1) due to my activity levels, I was in better shape than most of the thin women held up as exemplars, 2) muscle weighs more than fat, and 3) I really should not give a matched set of flying monkey's buttocks what people other than my physician think I should weigh.

It's very much a fear response, I think. We must be assimilated into popular culture, resistance is futile, all your base are belong to us. If we spend all our time worrying about what we're eating and what we're wearing and what celebrities are eating and wearing (one word: Oprah), then we are too busy to look around and say, "You know what? There's something fundamentally cracked about our world, and we need to fix it. Let's start loving our neighbor and see what happens."

I'm going to keep wearing clothes that fit well and flatter my shape, and get up and wash my face and comb my hair, and if I show up to work with Rosary Face, well... People are just going to have to deal.

The Sunday Naps are Holy to My People

2006-05-09T12:24:00.000-07:00

Ever since I've become an adult, my entire schedule has revolved around Sunday.

There's the church component, sure. In the beginning, when I was practicing to be a reclusive crazy cat lady, Sunday was often the only time all week that I'd physically touch another person (Peace be with you). Choir, meetings, potlucks, those all take priority on my schedule on Sunday.

Then there's the Sunday Nap. Which is also a priority. It's usually between 3-6 hours long, and makes up for all the late nights. In the old days, those late nights were from studying and/or working, now they're just 'cause I've discovered late night TV.

Everything in my week looks foward to Sunday. I *like* going to church. I *like* sleeping. Sunday's a day where I have both of my favorite things, usually back-to-back. Sunday is a good day.

So now I've been poking at this hypothetical situation in my mind for a couple of weeks: what if they came out tomorrow in the newspaper with irrefutable proof that Christianity is a hoax, that there is no God?

Welp, I'd probably drink a lot that first night.

I'd like to think that I'd continue on continuing on being a good person, whether out of a belief that even one small person doing a few small things is making the world a better place, or because I'm too lazy to change my ways. I'd have some more free time to play videogames (I will beat Halo 2 without resorting to cheating, I will!) Sundays would have no purpose, though. I could sleep away the whole day, if I wanted to, but it would be that gross, I've-been-in-bed-too-long kind of sleep that I always associate with being stuck home sick.

Are we done poking this?
Hmmm... *poke, poke*
Yeah, seems to be done for now.

So let's do the flip: The newspaper tomorrow has gigantic headlines GOD EXISTS! JESUS CHRIST WALKED THE EARTH! How does that change my life? How would I act differently?

Welp, I might indulge in one or two "I told you so!"s. Then I'd probably do a lot more praying, and be a lot nicer to people, and... um, stuff.

Stuff I should be doing now, right? Since I don't need newspapers to tell me this, right?

Right?

*poke, poke*

2006-05-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

Feast of St. Julian of Norwich

I still can't believe it. Barry is gonna be a bishop.

Of course, I keep saying, "I know that guy!", and everyone is like, "You know +Andrus?" and I'm like, "Dude, no the OTHER guy." and they're like, "There was another guy? And seriously, stop bouncing, how much coffee did you have?" and I'm like, "Ten cups!" and they're like, "Sister! Get off the ceiling! You're gonna leave fingerprints!"

California is freaky-wierd when it comes to Episcopalians. Which should be expected, since, you know, California. Three diocese: Diocese of California (Dio.Cal), Diocese of Northern California (Dio.NorCal), and the Diocese of San Joaquin (Dio.SJ).

The Dio.Cal has its Cathedral in San Francisco, and includes Berkeley and all of Middle California. I'll leave the determination of their political slant as an exercise for the class.

The Dio.SJ is Los Angeles, which to someone from North of Fresno means everything South of Bakersfield (Fresno on that map is covered up by the word 'California'). They don't ordain nor allow women to be priests. I'm not even going into that right now, because it's a whole 'nother kettle of fish.

The Dio.NorCal has its Cathedral in Sacramento, and it encompasses everything north, all the way to the Oregon border. There is a lot of variety in that much acerage, beaches, mountains, plains, vineyards and orchards, cities and suburbs, liberal college towns and conservative strongholds. In Sacramento alone, there are 126 seperate languages spoken by the schoolchildren.

The Dio.NorCal, my friends, is the one to watch. They are dealing with the same Culture Competition that the entire Anglican Communion is dealing with, but on an individual level.

Also? When you've drank* a whole bunch of coffee and are blathering on about how much you hate sheep because you used to have to help your grandmother with hers, make sure you're not talking to your priest right before Good Shepherd Sunday, 'cause she will TOTALLY quote you in her sermon.

*I can't help the amount of coffee I drank, I just got a shipment of Bishop's Blend in, after being out for most of a month and surviving on instant and Blue Gardenia, which is good but not as good as Bishop's Blend, and is also wayyy more expensive. Plus, every time I go in there, I leave with a cinnamon roll.

License to Vote

2006-05-06T22:05:00.000-07:00

The Episcopal Church of the United States of America is a democratic institution.

For those of you who don't know or understand what that means, it means that every single person in the diocese votes for representatives to the election crew, and then that election crew elects the bishop.

Of course, I'm condensing several years, millions of words, thousands of meetings, and a lot of votes into a few sentences.

And you know what? The thing that the media forgets, the thing that we all forget, is that we spend those years praying this prayer:

Almighty God, giver of every good gift: Look graciously on your Church, and so guide the minds of those who shall choose a bishop for this Diocese, that we may receive a faithful pastor, who will care for your people and equip us for our ministries; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

These are not mere humans casting those ballots; these are agents of the Holy Spirit.

May God bless the Diocese of California and the Diocese of Northern California and their bishop-elects, the Rt. Rev. Andrus, Rev. Canon Beisner, and may God bless the Diocese of Tennessee as they continue their search.

I had the great privlegde of working with Barry Beisner once (I was a member of the NorCal diocese until last July, which means I spent a lot of time praying that prayer for that diocese) and I was impressed with his patience, his prayerfulness, and his ability to reconcile diverse groups. And boy howdy, will he get a diocese full of diverse groups!

Edit: Karen at Kinesis was a registrar and teller for the election of the Bishop of the Diocese of California, and she tells how it all went down here. But I'm going to quote the best part, for those of you too lazy to click the link.
After Bishop Andrus spoke to us via telephone hookup we moved into the liturgy of the table. We sang "The Church's One Foundation," took part in the Eucharistic prayers, and received communion. As I stood in the long line to receive the blessed bread and wine I noted with some amusement that most of the reporters had left. There was no Big Story now, only ordinary Christians doing what we always do, which is in itself the Biggest and Best Story of all.

Elizaphanian: Rowan in Chelmsford

2006-05-04T11:53:00.000-07:00

Elizaphanian got close enough to spit at the +Rowan (but I'm pretty sure he didn't spit at the Archbish, at least I hope so, you know, I'm starting to think drinking that extra cup of coffee wasn't a good idea, it's given me run-on sentences).

Go read what the ABC said. I think a lot of us who are far, far away from England and don't hear from +Rowan 'cept in the media can sometimes forget he's an actual person instead of a sound bite.

In other news, Happy Jedi Day! May the Fourth be with you!

Your love is teaching me how, how to kneel.

2006-05-04T09:20:00.000-07:00

Feast of St. Monnica of Hippo.

Wow. I'm running around the Blogosphere today like a chicken with my head cut off. We've got people yelling 'terrorist bomb!' about gays in the Bishop of California's Chair, poor Cynthia is getting yelled at for saying she's not only standing up for her gay best friend forever's committment ceremony, but she also *gasp* went clubbing with him, on the ecumenical front, the Velveteen Rabbi takes on those pesky lines in Leviticus, and I really, really, REALLY don't want to get into the Illegal Personages debate (how can a human being be illegal? I hadn't noticed a law against existing [yet]).

What, in the Name of all that's Good, Blessed, Right and Holy is going on here?

I'll tell you what's going on here. We're treating love like it's a finite commodity, that's what's going on. We're drawing these lines in the sand (gay/straight, legal/illegal, conservative/liberal) so we can say "Yes, yes, I'm on the right side, and I will feed the hungry and clothe the naked, and visit the imprisoned and bury the dead... but only if they're from my side of the line! The people from the Other Side, they're different from me and they're bad and naughty and even EVIL and I am NOT going near them, 'cause they're going to taint me and make me not!perfect."

'Scuse me, people, but if you're a Christian, your job is to go right up to that line, kick sand over it as you cross, and get busy loving your neighbor, no matter the status of their documentation, the direction of their orientation, or their political party.

*sigh* Oh, it's so easy for me to jump up on my soapbox. I think the blog phenomenom has just created a giant Hyde Park, where we can pontificate as well as any old German guy in Rome. "How am I living this out in my own life?" my concience asks me. "How can you tell people to love their neighbor when you're so very pissed off at your cousin?"

"Hey, I'm working on my anger!" I tell my concience.

"Taking it out, looking at it, giving it a good polish, and then putting it back in the box is not working on it," my concience snaps back. "Start forgiving your cousin for all the real and imagined hurts."

"Don'wanna!" I whine.

"You're a Christian," my concience says, smacking me upside the head. "Whether you like it or not. So get busy lovin', or get busy dying."

"Why are you quoting Stephen King movies to me?" I ask my concience.

"Stop changing the subject."

Pretty urgent set of prayer requests

2006-05-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

Please pray for my grandmother, who's in the hospital for a third time due to some kind of infection.

Also please pray for my idiot cousin, who's just been diagnosed with an enlarged heart.

Tacos and Comics Day - Astonishing X-Men

2006-05-03T09:48:00.000-07:00

Wednesday is known in my neck of the woods as "Tacos and Comics Day". Because all day, I'm very, very, very excited about the new comics being available at the comic store, and about the tacos available about a block down from the comic store. The employees at both these fine institutions all know me by my secular name, because Wednesdays are ~~a holy day to my people~~ Tacos and Comics Day!

So, I like comics. I like to tell people about comics. I like to watch the glassy look come over people's eyes as I talk about comics, because the plots are convoluted, the histories are murky, and most people, when you say the 'c' word, dismiss them right out of hand as 'kids' stuff'.

Which means short lines at the comic store. Yay!

So, this is the cover to Astonishing X-Men #2, which came out in 2004. AXM is a good place to start, because most everyone has at least a little familiarity with the X-Men, thanks to the new movies. AXM has something else going for it, though, it's written by Joss Whedon.

You did NOT just ask "Who is Joss Whedon."
No, no you didn't.
Seriously, if you did, get off my blog now.

(If you're too lazy to follow the links, let me put it this way: if you've seen a television show or a movie that was quirky, filled with inappropriate humor and deep themes that the critics slagged, the networks axed, and the fans adored, Joss or one of his minions was involved. But it was probably Joss.)

Joss, like all writers, has a couple of drums he likes to beat. One of them is redemption. Take a look at that cover again, it's Scott Summers (aka Cyclops) with Emma Frost (aka The White Witch). If you've been living under a rock for the last decade or so, Scott Summers is a good guy. Emma Frost? Used to be a bad guy. But nobody really trusts her as a good guy, except Scott, and they're cohabitating.

This one's also interesting, it's issue #12, the last in the first 'series'. I'm not going to tell you much of the plot, but can't you just figure it out? (The artist is John Cassaday, who is famous in the comic world for being really good.) Over the years, this kind of plot has been played out repeatedly (parts of it will be rehashed in the new movie this summer), but Joss really twists it into something new, painful, and personal.

The first twelve issues are collected in two trade paperbacks, if you have a cool library, they might have them (or, you know, you could go to Barnes and Noble and read them in the aisles). I really suggest you do, because Whedon and Cassaday just started another 12 issue run on this series. The fun part is, now they have to not only deal with the things they brought up in the first run, but also the fact that Marvel made an executive decision to basically un-mutate all but 198 of the planet's mutants. In AXM 13, they deal with the students who are still left at the school, while the rest of the student body was sent home 'normal'.

Of course, Wolverine gives the motivational speech, so it's, um... unique.

Another (One-Sided) Conversation with God

2006-05-02T07:58:00.000-07:00

What the EVER LOVING HELL was that?
No, seriously.
What were You thinking, You stupidhead?

These are children. You're supposed to love the little children. You're supposed to take care of them! You're supposed to watch over them!

Yes, well, I guess it is true there were people nearby who helped-- but why did You put these kids in this situation to begin with?

And teachers, oy, teachers are the ones who have to stand in the breach, between hockey and soccer and ballet and music lessons, teachers spend more time with these children than their own parents. Then they're the ones who are hit just as hard when something like this happens, and if they're lucky, they've got a support group who can take them out for beer and burgers and let them cry about it (and You made my best friend CRY!) and then, when I'm sitting there and the tears are all gone, what am I supposed to say?

Yes, I know what I said, "Let's go get chocolate." I don't think that was what my best friend wanted or needed to hear right then. I think what my best friend wanted and needed to hear right then was something profound, something that could make it all better. Something that You said. I would have even let You speak through me. You know I didn't know what to say. Ergo, chocolate.

And today, my best friend has to walk right back into that classroom. I tell You what, You'd better be there with my best friend, and you'd better be with every one of those children, and with every other teacher and administrator and social service worker and parent.

Or else. Amen.

God our Father, you see your children growing up in an
unsteady and confusing world: Show them that your ways
give more life than the ways of the world, and that following
you is better than chasing after selfish goals. Help them to
take failure, not as a measure of their worth, but as a chance
for a new start. Give them strength to hold their faith in you,
and to keep alive their joy in your creation; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.

I'm in a bad mood.

2006-05-01T08:53:00.000-07:00

I've got the Johnny Appleseed blessing song stuck in my head.

I was one of the chaperones on the Metro East Convocation Youth Event last night.

You try herding 53 teenagers through a mall and see how you feel the next day.

You try explaining the difference between the Episcopal and Roman Catholic Churches to a kid who can't spell "Garage Sale".

You try explaining to another chaperone from a much more affluent church that one of the kids isn't being a pig grabbing three pieces of pizza at a time, but that's how many you told that kid to take at a time, and that kid's hungry 'cause they haven't eaten anything today except a couple of cookies, and their guardian refused to take the 'charity' groceries offered them from the food closet.

You try explaining to the kids that we have to wait another three months for another big event like this because we don't have the money to put it on as an individual church every month.

After a night like I had, I really don't give a flying rat's ass about the American Anglican Council or +Akinola's latest rantings or who the next Presiding Bishop's going to be or even the Da Vinci Code.

I've got kids here who need me.

insert the Indiana Jones Theme here

2006-04-28T10:30:00.000-07:00

Someone's voicemail message just blessed me.

I am very wierded out by this. If I was, you know, a real nun making real, nunly type phone calls, I probably wouldn't be wierded out by it. But I was calling a vendor to ensure that an order had been placed.

W-i-e-r-d.

In my world, y'see, people don't just randomly say "God bless you", unless you sneeze. Actually, even I say "Gestheundheit", but I'm part German (I think the actual part of me that's German are my knuckles, but that's not the point).

The question this blessing voicemail brings to my mind is, "Which God? Do I want your God blessing me? What if your God leaves sticky fingerprints all over my soul? Ew, yucky!"

See, this is why I'm not a theologian. All my thought processes come down to Windex and Pine-Sol.

One of my buddies at church is the kind of person who will randomly drop in the middle of a conversation, "Dude, I LOVE Jesus!" I've learned to love Church!Buddy's little exclamations, because they are just a symptom of a deep, passionate faith.

It's hysterical, though, watching Church!Buddy do this in the middle of a conversation involving a group of middle class semi-secularists, the kind who show up on Sundays and go to the Silent Auction, but aren't interested in Bible Studies or committee meetings. The entire conversation falters for a second, because they're not really sure how to respond to that.

'Course, the first couple of times Church!Buddy pulled that on me, I was utterly confounded, too. Sometimes my faith can be passionate, and it's got some deep places, but I don't go around telling people about it! Then people would people will know I'm a Christian!

I think I know a little about how Jeremiah and Ezekiel felt, though. They got personal visits from God to give them words to say. And their words were a heckuvalot more immediately dangerous than "Christ is risen, Alleluia!", they were sent to tell happy, middle-class semi-secularists that their world would be crashing down around their ears.

The message of "Christ is Risen!", though, is just as dangerous to the stability of our society as Jeremiah's prophecy of the fall of Jerusalem. For all our leaders bluster on, this is not a Christian nation, it's been built by exploiting and oppressing people of all races, genders, creeds, orientations, nations of residency, and credit scores. As I heard preached recently,

If you read your Bible, you can see clearly on whose side God has always played; here's a hint: it's not the wealthy and the powerful.

So, where does the voicemail message fit into all of this? Is it a misguided attempt to align oneself with the ruling powers pretending to speak in the Name of Jesus? Is it a conviction against my soul, to get me to speak louder about my own faith, to preach the Good News of a risen Christ who can forgive sins? Is it a sincere prayer on behalf of the messagemaker, which I should accept with gratitude?

Could it be all of these things, plus the fact that it's a long, slow Friday at work and I'm on the phone right now with a company that has the Indiana Jones Theme as their hold music?

Just 'cause you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.

2006-04-27T12:12:00.000-07:00

If you're not reading The Witness, you really should. If you don't want to read all of The Witness, just read this article by Daniel J. Webster.

Some telling quotes from the article:

Many believe a schism in the Episcopal Church USA and the worldwide Anglican Communion is inevitable after this summer. If it does occur it will not be about homosexuality or Gene Robinson or the blessing of same-sex unions. It will have been planned, plotted and engineered by the IRD and its very rich, ultraconservative henchmen (some women, but mostly men) who have targeted the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA), the United Methodist Church (UMC) and the Episcopal Church for nearly 25 years.
[...]
The IRD is open about its agenda. Visit ird-renew.org; there for the world to see, without apology, is a clear strategy to foment disorder in the three mainline churches. On its home page are dropdown menus listing the action plan against the three mainline churches.
[...]
[IRD] financially supports these small groups to wage conflict internally in their denominations. Episcopalians know of the American Anglican Council (AAC). It was created by the IRD, with whom the AAC shared offices for a number of years. Swecker's book also documents how the IRD shared board members and financial backing with ultraconservative dissident church groups, including the AAC, in the three targeted denominations. Another article digs further to illustrate how IRD board members have influenced, had access to, or ties with government agencies and the current presidential administration.

I've been a member of two denominations targeted by this group. I know firsthand the pain, suffering, and dissent they foster. I have lost friends and even family to this. They have turned millions from following Jesus to following human leaders.

I don't get it. Can people really be that corrupted by power that they want more and more and more until everyone is ruined and they alone are left standing on a pile of broken and bleeding spirits?

Lord have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord have mercy.

A (Fictional?) Conversation With God

2006-04-24T13:16:00.000-07:00

Got a pen and paper handy? This is going to be a long list.

Go for it.

Okay. I want to get rid of Mondays, first thing. I want to get rid of the cottony feeling in my brain that takes half of Monday to shake off, and everyone wondering why their overnight package hasn't gotten here yet, even though they had me order it at 4pm on Friday. Got that?

Keep going.

I want more space in my life for myself. I want more time to pray. I want more of my spaces to be sacred, to draw me to You. I want my food to be healthy and organic, so I can help conserve the Earth. And I want companies to be sensitive to the Earth, too!

Is that it?

Heck no! I want my money to be used wisely, when I go to the store or the movies. I want it to be used wisely by my parish and other charitable organizations. I want it to be used wisely by the Government, to help people. I want to help people, too, I want to have more time to volunteer. I want to watch less TV and I want to write more and I want chocolate. Lots of chocolate.

Okay.

I think that's it.

You sure?

Well, yeah. Oh! Actually, can You add one last thing?

Yeah.

I also want a million dollars, world peace, and a puppy.

Okay. *tears list out of notebook* Better go get started, then. This is a long list.

I thought You were going to take care of it?

Well, of course, I'll help, but most of these are things you've gotta do yourself.

Ew, yuck, GROSS!

2006-04-23T14:24:00.000-07:00

A friend and I tried out another church here in town for fun today.
It was not our style.
However, the capper was the bread used for the Eucharist.

It was raw.

Like, the outside was cooked, but the inside was dough.

I really wish I was making this up.

Edit:Now I've spent most of the afternoon pondering the theological implications of using raw dough for the Eucharist. Of course, some of the more hardcore will say it wasn't Eucharist, because it was dusted with semolina and used olive oil, but dear God, it was RAW in the MIDDLE!

I want to blame it on the fact that they were hosting the Diocesan Middle School Conference, but the music was all from the 70s, and the melodies were too difficult for people who were new walking in off the street to pick up right away (mind you, Friend and I are both trained singers with sight-reading capabilities, and we were messing it up). The usual members, too, were all older than Friend and I, and the church was near a really large college. But I can see why the kids from the college probably don't come here; no one talked to Friend and I, not a single person. Okay, the priest said "Hi, thanks for coming," but he said it in the same way as flight attendants. During the announcements, they spoke of so many great outreaches, but they spoke of the people as "poor, less fortunate, them". It felt like the kind of church where you were expected to have everything worked out, and really shouldn't ask questions.

And dude, the bread was RAW!

Seven Deadly Topics #3 --- Sexual Orientation: Celibate

2006-04-22T09:57:00.000-07:00

Feast of Ss. Soter and Caius, Bishops and Martyrs.

So, I've got a lot of things I should be doing, but instead I'm going to throw down here in the Blogosphere. Because I am very, very angry.

Why, in the name of all the saints in heaven and on earth, is it so wrong for a person in this society to NOT be having sex? Yes, I'm asking this in all seriousness.

We've got these giant battles going on in our Church today about the 'sexual orientation' of our leaders. Quite frankly, in my mind, what people who aren't me are doing with their clothes off is none of my damn business, and honest to God, I really don't want to make it any of my damn business. I've got more important things to worry about (like, oh, the Vestry minutes I'm two weeks late with typing up, and my laundry, and finding a teaching gig for next year...)

However, have you noticed something about all this 'sexual orientation' talk? It has an underlying assumption that I think this culture has buried so deep that it's now our collective subconcious.

By claiming a sexual orientation, the assumption is that you're having sex.

No, really. Think about it. The best example is the Roman Catholics, who, in theory, have that other option that people rarely talk about, celibacy. Their priests are all supposed to be celibate, no sex at all, at all. But now they're dividing them into two camps: homo-sexual and hetero-sexual.

Waitaminute, if you're never, no never, no never going to have sex 'cause you promised your bishop, your mother, and your God that you wouldn't, what, in the Name of all that's Good and Holy, does it matter if someone says you're hetero-sexual or homo-sexual?

(And don't you be thinking that if, by some wild and completely random chance I ever come into the presence of the Pope, I'm not going to open with that. If he's really lucky, I might say "Hello, Your Holiness" first.)

So, we've outlined the playing field: hetero-sexual or homo-sexual. That's the extent of the spectrum in our dualistic society; any freak who says they're somewhere between the black and the white (bi-sexual) is just a slut.

These options suck.

And the fact that I don't spend a good portion of my time 1) searching for someone to have sex with and/or 2) whining because I'm not having sex, that makes me the freak of nature! Because, dear God, we can't imagine a human being out there who isn't an unbridled lustmonkey acting out on their hormones. That's umpossible! The teevee and the novels and the glossy magazines that do nothing but talk about the sex lives of famous people tell us so!

But please, please, please, for the love of God, can we try to imagine this person, who isn't ruled by hormones and the media? And not imagine them as someone who's so afraid of an Angry God what's got a lightning bolt with their name on it that they can't let themselves enjoy life, even a little? Can we imagine this person, this example, and use them to explain to the children growing up in a society where sex is used to sell chewing gum and lettuce that there is another option?

Can we, for once, admit that yeah, sex is nice, but it's not the only thing in this wide, wonderful world of ours?

Please?
Pretty please?
With sugar on top?

The original Seven Deadly Christian Blog Topics post (with links to the others in this series) can be found here.

Ow.

2006-04-21T07:11:00.000-07:00

I fall down a lot.

No, this isn't a metaphor for my spiritual life. I'll be walking along a newly cured, laser-leveled piece of concrete and wham! I'll be on the ground. Yes, that actually happened to me my first go-round in college.

Fr. Father says it started back when I was in utero. He'd be walking with Mtr. Mother and talking to her, then suddenly realise she wasn't there anymore. He'd turn around and she'd be on the ground, laughing.

I laugh when I fall down, too. What else am I supposed to do? I look absolutely silly when I fall down. Often I flail wildly, in the vain hope that I can catch my balance, whatever I'm carrying goes flying in all directions, and then I curl up and try to take the shock as best I can. Except, even after several years of aikido, I still have a tendency to throw my hands out. The orders when I was a child were always, "Save your face!"

Which, of course, means that when I fell yesterday, I twisted my hips so I'd fall on my bottom, but didn't torque my upper body enough, so I slammmed down on one hand. And totally wrenched my back. It's not debilitating, but it's letting me know exactly how interconnected my musculature is; every time I move, my back sends a little reminder of my fall to my brain.

I could very easily turn this into a metaphor for sin. If you wanna, go right ahead, I'm going to go and try and find some ibuprofin or something. Ow.

Here, fishy fishy fishy...

2006-04-18T09:12:00.000-07:00

Just imagine me at about six years old, lower lip sticking out so far I'm about to trip on it, eyes narrowed, arms folded across my chest.

I am NOT going to do it.
No, I don't wanna!
You're not the Boss of me.

That's right, I'm arguing with God. Again. Actually, it's the same old argument, but this time He's quite insistent, and isn't taking "don'wanna!" for an answer.

And it's for no good reason other than plain ol' fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear that I really did waste the last five years of my life doing 'the wrong thing'. Fear that this is going to change how people think about me. Fear I won't do it right. Fear that I'm not the right person, that I might have gotten the message wrong.

Fear of what my mother is going to say. Oy.

I live in a city bisected by two major rivers. I keep looking over the bridges when I cross them, keeping an eye out for whales.

Psst...

2006-04-16T18:52:00.000-07:00

Guess what guess what guess what!

Christ is Risen!

Heeeeee.

*is exhausted*

Little bundles of random possibilities

2006-04-13T18:26:00.000-07:00

"That's impossible!"
"So's a baby," Lazarus said.
---Robert A. Heinlein, Methuselah's Children

I would like to introduce everyone to Pico.

Pico, this is everyone.

Pico is my brand spankin' new object du spoiling. Although his momma takes no nonsense from no one, and she won't let me spoil him too much.

But I'm going to try my damndest. And as his momma and daddy I have been partners in crime before, I think that Pico and I, working together, will be able to outsmart her at least once in a while.

I'm a little delirious.
Pardon me.
My best friend just had a baby.

'Course, Pico, it's all downhill from here. You're going to meet people who hate you just because of the way you were born, because of the color of your skin, because of the location on the globe where you were born, because of the way you talk and act and dress...

I'm going to do my damndest to help you understand the third most important thing you can learn on this fragile Earth, our island home. You can't make everyone happy.

And here's the second most important thing you can learn here: It's okay not to make everyone happy.

Finally, the ultimate thing that you will learn here, and your momma and daddy and brother, aunties and uncles and teacher and neighbors and even I'm going to teach you this lesson, Pico-poquito, mi corazon, mi amor.

No matter who you are and what you do in this world, there are people who love you.

Welcome to the planet, little dude.

An Episcopalian Donkey

2006-04-10T12:56:00.000-07:00

Deacon Chata was up to bat for the sermon yesterday, and we had a little giggle at her expense, 'cause she totally lost her notes and was wandering around the altar area looking for them.

Then she got up on the pulpit and went for it, extemporaneously.

I have to confess, I rarely remember anything at all from the sermon (beyond the fact that we had one). But I remember this little bit, it was a total tangent in the middle of the sermon.

That donkey must have been an Episcopalian. He'd been eating the same food year after year. Walking the same paths over and over again. Always in the same field.

You know, writing it down, now it seems flat and I really don't know why I wanted to tell you this. Oh well, let the reader understand (whatever it is the reader wants to understand).

Incoming!!!

2006-04-08T16:02:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, I was complaining. "Aw, it's still purple. I hate purple. Lent is taking FOREVER!"

Today, we cleaned A Certain Church. And everything at the altar was red.

And I says to myself, I says, "NO! It can't be Easter yet! I'm not ready yet! I haven't done enough! Can we wait another week?"

One more week.
I'll be ready then.
Really, I promise!

I'll have my house in order. I'll have prayed, I'll have done charitable acts, I'll be ready to welcome God's Annointed, the Messiah. I'm not ready yet!

I ran about with other parishoners, cleaning madly. Clucking over gum in the pews, crayon marks, scuff marks, scrubbing at windows, hauling out ladders to get the high corners (and freaking out as the music director climbed a ladder with a shop vac to get the dust off of the rafters over the altar). We counted hymnals and prayerbooks and debated what to do with the ratty paperback Bibles in the racks and how exactly to repair the cracked pews up front.

It's an old parish with not much in the way of financial gifts. At one point, we had to give up, say "That's as good as we can get it."

It makes me sad, and it annoys my perfectionist streak. We must have everything perfect! Get palm branches! Throw your coats on the floor so the King doesn't have to walk on regular ol' dirt!

I wonder who wasn't at the parade, though. I wonder who was in their houses, cleaning furiously. Who missed out because they didn't feel they were good enough, to soil the King with their presence. I wonder what they missed.

I wonder what I'll miss, if I keep trying to be the perfect one.

Lift up your heads, O you gates;
be lifted up, you ancient doors,
that the King of Glory may come in.
Psalm 24:7

Consider this the slip, it brought me to my knees

2006-04-07T10:39:00.000-07:00

I really doubt that anyone who stumbles across this blog can't come up with a list of people or intentions to pray for. And with Holy Week coming up for some of us, there are going to be plenty of time for reflection and prayer offered by our churches that we should take advantage of (in theory, I'll be participating in a lot of them, but we'll see how work and the flu season monopolize my time). Anyway, I saw this idea on a bulletin board I frequent, and thought I'd compile my own list. Feel free to help me add to it in the comments section.

The List of Things To Pray For (When You Don't Have Anything to Pray For) In No Particular Order

Clergy, religious, and ministers

Teachers and educators

Christian Unity, peace and healing between factions

Those suffering from depression and other mental illnesses

Government leaders and officials

Children growing up without their basic needs being met

Those entering the Church this Easter through confirmation and baptisim, those entering the Church this Easter for their only service until Christmas

Those who have been killed in military operations and their grieving families

Those who are lonely

Peace in our minds, peace in our hearts, peace in our lives, peace in our world

Must be the clouds in my eyes

2006-04-06T08:38:00.001-07:00

So, last night I scared my comic shop guy.

Wednesday is Tacos and Comics night, you see, because the new issues come out on Wednesdays and the taqueria is just down the block from the comic shop.

For the record, I do not read 'graphic novels'. I read comic books. I read ones with Spider-Man and Batgirl and Superboy and Wonder Girl and other characters with ridiculous physiques, spandex, and cartoonish artwork.

I also gleefully chat with the guys who work there (who are not at all the stereotypical creepy comic book guys, but very cool) about all things comics, and sometimes about all things Joss Whedon.

Last night was a Whedon night. Whee. Myself and the store owner (yeah, we're on a first name basis) were chattering happily about Firefly. And a fire truck goes roaring by, sirens full-blast.

Next thing I know, Store Owner was looking at me funny. "I didn't know you were Catholic," he says.

Whoops. Crossed myself once, and now my cover was blown. The conversation now was going to be like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books. "Episcopalian, actually," I said.

If the Store Owner says, "What's an Episcopalian?" turn to page 4.
If the Store Owner says, "I used to be Catholic," turn to page 5.
If the Store Owner says, "I thought Christians weren't supposed to read comic books," turn to page 6.

I'm so terribly annoyed when this happens. There I am, bopping along merrily, doing my thing, and someone realises, "Oh my Gawsh, she goes to CHURCH!" and suddenly, their perception of me is changed, and rarely for the better. They judge me based on what they think a Christian should be, and not on how I've acted to this point ("She won't like to read the new Fell comic, it's got dismembered bodies and Christians hate gratutious violence even if the moral of the story is about redemption in the face of great opposition.")

Then, late at night, after the tacos are but a greasy memory and the comics have been pored through, I wonder: why didn't they already know I was a Christian? It's a major part of my identity, possibly the major part of who I am as a human. A lot of Christians of a certain mindset like to throw around this quote by St. Francis,

Preach the Gospel at all times. When neccessary, use words.

I think, just maybe, I'm not using my words enough.

Hiding and Seeking

2006-04-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hiding and Seeking: Faith and Tolerance After the Holocaust was recommended by the Velveteen Rabbi a week or so ago. Being the good little Netflixer with a fascination not only with extremisim but also with Orthodox Judaisim, I popped it to the top of my queue and watched it yesterday.

The plot is this: An Orthodox Jew living in Brooklyn (Menachem Daun) is worried that his sons are cutting themselves and their children off from the non-Jewish world because they see it as nothing more but evil. So he flies down to Jerusalem and confronts them. They admit that, yeah, it's a good idea to split themselves from non-Jews, because non-Jews are always-- ALWAYS! the instigators of bad things. Menachem says, "Fine. We're going to Poland to see if we can find the people who sheltered your great-grandfather and great-uncle and grandfather from the Nazis, and you're going to look them in the face."

At one point, the sons are talking to their grandfather, the one who was sheltered in Poland. They asked him if he would do the same, shelter someone at the risk of his own life. "No," he says. "It's too dangerous." The looks on his grandchildren's faces are simple incomprehension.

I was hoping that writing this down would help me clear up some of the whirling thoughts brought up by this movie. It hasn't. At the end of the film, one of the sons grudgingly admits that not all goyim are bad, but he adds the caveat that they are the exception to the rule. I know, from personal experience, that this can sometimes be the spark that leads to a complete conversion, to trying to be a flickering little light to all nations. I've also seen this spark extinguished by return to an insulated, homogenized community where the prevailing opinion is one of complete isolation.

This isn't a problem just with Orthodox Jews building themselves a ghetto. This happens to Christians, too. Forward in Faith and Tridentine Rite Mass people are the first that come to mind, but there are also liberal ghettos, places where they demand that women and homosexuals serve the altar and dismiss anyone who would say otherwise as 'unChristian'. Brick by brick, this society is encouraging us to build walls between ourselves and other people.

I don't know what to do about it.
That's not true.
I can tear down my walls a little bit at a time (it's tough, I built them of very strong stuff).

But I cannot change everyone's world. And it's not my place, it's not my right, to try and forcibly knock their walls down. I've got to worry about mine own ghetto, first.

Wahoo!

2006-04-04T10:30:00.000-07:00

Sr. Sister just got the news from the Scions of Walt. She's been accepted into the Management Internship Program, which means she's moving all the way across the country.

It also means she has a castmember discount which can be extended to family members.

I'm going to Disney World!

This is Not a Christian Nation

2006-04-03T07:05:00.000-07:00

I know I'm going to burst some people's bubbles, but it's true. No matter how many times you say it, the United States is not a Christian nation. Yes, there's the Pilgrim angle, and there is anecdotal evidence to the effect that a good number of the Founding Mothers and Fathers were X brand of Christian. However, there's also Pennsylvania, built to be a stronghold of religious freedom, and the vast amount of writing by various Founding Fathers espousing deisim, which can also be called God as Clockmakerisim.

Okay, so you want to skip the Founding Mothers and Fathers argument. Fine. You say that because there are lots of people running around this country calling themselves Christians and getting elected to higher office, that that makes this a Christian nation.

Nope, sorry.

What would make this a Christian nation?

When 15% of Americans didn't go hungry every night and 58% weren't overweight.

When the mentally ill had readily available and accessible shelter, healthcare, and counseling outside of the prison system.

When our elders and youngsters didn't have to worry about getting sick and affording their prescriptions, let alone a trip to the doctor, because they don't have any insurance at all.

When every child born can be assured of a loving, caring, safe home; whether it's with their biological parents or with adoptive parents, and abortion is therefore obsolete.

When we do not hire 'professionals' to care for our elders and dying.

When we cannot guess the path a child's life will take simply because of their economic status.

When we do not have the children of immigrants standing up in Congress and demanding that we block the borders and deny those immigrants (who are now our neighbors) access to the basics of life simply because they came here to try and better theirs, because they came here to do jobs that we don't want to do ourselves because they're too dirty, too boring, too dangerous, then, just maybe, we'll be on our way to being a Christian nation.

I don't understand humans, and I believe in a merciful and loving God

2006-04-01T23:31:00.000-08:00

Picture me, an overachiever, a little fat girl in her third year of college, not yet able to purchase alcohol legally but two courses away from a Bachelor's degree in Social Science (which is what happens when you study languages, history, political science, economics, psychology, and geography).

Watch me read ninety-seven books and forty-three journal articles on the genocides in Rwanda, Rhodesia, and Yugoslavia, along with the (edited) transcripts of the Reconciliation Commission in South Africa, which was tasked in letting victims of apartheid, both black and white, speak of the horrors they'd seen.

Twice that semester, I put down my reading, got off my comfy couch (the same couch that had been in my parents' house for ten years previous, the couch that screamed comfort and home to a child far from those related by blood), and went to the bathroom to throw up.

I wrote a forty-page thesis comparing the post-regime retaliations of the four countries, and attempted to explain how South Africa, while it had its violence, did not devolve into mass slaughter due to the work of the Reconciliation Commission. My African History teacher, one of my advisors on the project, thought it was so compelling that he offered to help me edit and prepare it for publication, which as we all know is the first step to a career in research and higher education.

I declined. Despite the fact my career goals at that time were for tenure, I coundn't bear to spend more thought on such horrors.

(Sometime in that time frame, I'm not sure if it was before, during, or after, a compatriot and I came to the conclusion that no serious student of history could come out of their studies without a severe case of pacifisim. More on that later.)

Archbishop Desmond Tutu paid a visit to my cow college a scant seven weeks after my thesis was turned in. My little college in the middle of nowhere had many illustrious guests; during my tenure +Tutu was one of five Nobel Peace Prize winners to speak in our 940 seat auditorium. +Tutu was a small creature, no more than six inches tall, in cassock and purple sash from where I sat in the cheap-ish student price seats.

I don't remember much of the Archbishop's lecture. I have a nortoriously bad memory (which is one of the reasons I blog). I do remember one bit specifically. Someone from the audience, someone who wasn't me, I didn't have the guts, asked during the Q&A session about how +Tutu would approach race relations in the United States. I can quote the first part of his reply by memory:

When people came from other countries to South Africa to give us advice on how to better understand our situation, I hated it. Because who knew better our situation than those of us who'd been living it?

Then, he paused for effect, and I swear, from the Cheap Seats, I saw a twinke in his eye...

And now, having said that...

He clutched his tummy, stomped his feet, and danced (danced! he was stomping!) across the stage, laughing at his own joke.

I had read what he had to sit and listen to, stories that still wake me up in the night in sweating nightmares. He'd seen these people, listened to the instigators, conspirators, and victims from across a table. How many he gave the Body and Blood of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I cannot imagine. That doesn't figure into history texts.

The little man who danced across the stage, doubled over in laugher, is oft reported as a somber, ecclisastical figure in several of those ninety-seven books and forty-three journal articles.

I've seen different. I've seen that we can, no matter what horrors we've been through, no matter what we've seen or heard about the horrors of other's lives, we can still have great joy.

Glory to God in the highest, and peace to His people in all the earth.

Can I get a witness? (I dare you)

2006-03-28T06:47:00.000-08:00

It's 6.45am where I live.

I'm grumpy.

I have a Huey Lewis and the News song running through my head. But that's not what's making me grumpy.

About 90% of the links on my favorites list (I'm too lazy to get an aggregator) identify as one flavor of Christianity or another. And last night, as I was flipping through them, they fell into two broad categories.

1) Dear sweet Jesus, it sucks to be a Christian.
2) Dear sweet Jesus, it sucks we have people like Them saying they're Christians.

With a witness like this, no wonder my state's got 87% of the population not attending church. No wonder why, when I invited an acquaintance to Ash Wednesday services she declined, because she was starting a three-week 'cleansing fast' to 'clear [her] body and mind'.

Nah. We can't tell people about the joys of taking up the light yoke, the easy burden, and toddling off towards Calvary behind Jesus, called the Christ. Instead, we've got to snipe at each other, saying that conservatives are just wrong and unneccesary (and probably racist to boot!), but not giving a better way. Saying liberals, for all their talk of inclusion, are really exclusionary and reactionary (and probably Pagans to boot!), and then not giving an alterantive. We're so busy on the Internet pointing out each other's failings (and how in the world can we see each other's failings through that big ol' plank of wood in our eyes, I'm wondering).

When we get sniped at, oh, boy, look out! We get our righteous indignation all up in the house. We are pained, brothers and sisters! We have been hurt! We have been martyred on the Internet! We sit back and fan ourselves with our hands and say, "We're suffering for Jesus!"

Bullshit.

That's right, I called 'bullshit'. To the whole confounded mess. If you've got Internet access and time to waste strolling around the Internet, you probably also have food, and shelter, and a warm bed, and heat, and clothing. You're not in jail. You're not afraid your words are going to throw you in jail. You're not afraid of people breaking down your door and dragging you off just because you confess Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. I have known martyrs. You, my dear brother or sister blogger, are not a martyr.

I dare you, my dear brothers and sisters.
I not only dare you, I triple-dog dare you.
If you have a blog, today you've got a writing assignment.
Today, you're going to post your witness. And you're going to leave all the pointing fingers at people what done you wrong out of it.
And for your convenience, we've got questions for you to answer!

1) When was the last time you felt the Holy Spirit move?
Vestry retreat last weekend. The HS was definately there, the whole time (and it was wierd being in the middle of a group of people who not only talked about the HS moving, but took it for granted), but during Morning Prayer on Saturday it was almost physical, like if I turned my head and reached out my hand, I could see and touch it.

2) Did you have a single conversion experience that you can identify?
Yes. Church camp. I was a miserable preteen, and to boot, my best friend at camp had been kicked out the night before for fighting (he'd stood up to a kid who was picking on me). We were listening to one of the counselors give her experiences as a recovering alcoholic. I don't remember much of the talk, I was wrapped up in my own little haze of misery, and contemplating how this suicide attempt was going to be the one that worked (just for the record, I wasn't Goth, I got good grades, and I was very, very good at hiding things from people). Well, the speaker kept repeating the phrase, "just give everything over to Jesus." And that was the only thing that broke through my little haze. Finally, in my head, I told Jesus, "You want it? FINE! Take it!" And Jesus said, "Okay." Since then, I've had ups and downs and such, but I've never utterly given up faith in God and Jesus Christ. I just flat-out can't.

3) What was the last miracle you saw/experienced?
Waking up this morning. Before that, every baby and child walking around. Nothing more implausible and impossible than a baby. If you want big, flashy miracles, well, I saw an icon that had restored itself a couple weeks back.

4) You are going to be broadcast via multimedia to everyone in the world. You have twenty-five words or less to explain why Christianity is the greatest thing that's ever happened to you. Ready, set, go!
Being the sister of Jesus Christ, being the daughter of God, there is nothing greater to prove we are not nations and factions, but family. (25 exact. Booyah!)