Today, my good friend, the Rev. Stephanie Mitchell, was ordained to the Priesthood in the Diocese of Oklahoma in the Episcopal Church.
I had the honor of attending the ordination ceremony as well as her first presiding Sunday, both held at St. Luke's in Bartlesville, OK. As usual, Stephanie acquitted herself throughout the weekend with grace and good cheer. No doubt in my mind that Stephanie has the integrity, compassion, intelligence, poise, focus, and heartfelt spirituality to make an outstanding minister.
Her friendship is a profound blessing to me. God's speed, Rev. Mitchell!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Don't Believe in Rock Stars
Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and rock stars... I don't believe in any of them.
Please understand that I'm using the term "rock stars" loosely. Granted, I am hardly a fan of popular music. My grandfather was a professional jazz drummer and my father's all-time favorite performer is Sinatra, so I guess it's in my blood to favor jazz & classical. However, I am not just talking about musicians; more broadly, I have an issue with personality cults.
Every human being who has ever lived has been just that - a human being. That means we are vulnerable. We have emotions. We are flesh and blood, and to dust we shall return. We use the potty, except perhaps for a stubborn four-year old nephew of mine. We are fallible and make mistakes. There are limits to what we know and what we can control.
We know this, and yet we as a society continue to demand a perfect front. We're so eager to find that perfection that we buy into those highly-polished images of performers, models, politicians, clergy, and anyone who frequents the media.
We need to remind ourselves that we've already had a messiah, one known by the initials JC.
Check out this excerpt from the insightful How to Love, the 2009 book by Gordon Livingtson, M.D. Here Livingston discusses narcissism:
Self-absorption linked to ambition describes the personality of many politicians. The higher the office, it seems, the more candidates are required to present themselves as paragons of wisdom and virtue. They become repositories of our best hopes that someone will emerge to take care of us, vanquish our enemies, and by their inspired leadership bring us together in a safe and happy world. To promise such a thing requires a self-confidence bordering on the delusional, which explains why the underlying narcissism of many of our political stars whom we reward with our votes and with whom we eventually become disillusioned when they fail to fulfill their exaggerated promises and our unrealistic hopes. (HTL, 11)
Having worked for a member of Congress for ten years (James Greenwood, PA-8), I have been on the periphery of important and powerful people. So I've seen a few behind-the-scene dynamics. I've learned that, contrary to the scandal and cynicism which pervades news coverage, many of our public servants are just that - public servants. Running for office requires lots of unglamorous hard work, as well as the courage to risk public rejection and failure. Some of our public officials truly have the integrity & conviction as advertised.
On the other hand, we are in no danger of a hypocrite shortage.
The point is that ALL of our public figures - entertainers, political leaders, reporters, and high-profile business people - are fallible human beings. They are not immortals whose mere presence should stir us into a frenzy. "Take up your cross and follow me" was an invitation to discipleship from a certain Rabbi. "Buy my CDs and follow me on tour" doesn't bear the same gravitas, nor does "Hit the campaign trail and I'll give you a government job."
Rock singers, U.S. Senators, Bishops; they have their message. The really good ones have really important messages that excite us. I'm all for inspiration. But let's not confuse the divinity of the message by deifying the messenger.
Let's save our passionate devotion for the real savior. For me, that savior is JC.
Julius Caesar? Jimmy Cagney? Jimminy Cricket? No, I'll go with Jesus the Christ.
Please understand that I'm using the term "rock stars" loosely. Granted, I am hardly a fan of popular music. My grandfather was a professional jazz drummer and my father's all-time favorite performer is Sinatra, so I guess it's in my blood to favor jazz & classical. However, I am not just talking about musicians; more broadly, I have an issue with personality cults.
Every human being who has ever lived has been just that - a human being. That means we are vulnerable. We have emotions. We are flesh and blood, and to dust we shall return. We use the potty, except perhaps for a stubborn four-year old nephew of mine. We are fallible and make mistakes. There are limits to what we know and what we can control.
We know this, and yet we as a society continue to demand a perfect front. We're so eager to find that perfection that we buy into those highly-polished images of performers, models, politicians, clergy, and anyone who frequents the media.
We need to remind ourselves that we've already had a messiah, one known by the initials JC.
Check out this excerpt from the insightful How to Love, the 2009 book by Gordon Livingtson, M.D. Here Livingston discusses narcissism:
Self-absorption linked to ambition describes the personality of many politicians. The higher the office, it seems, the more candidates are required to present themselves as paragons of wisdom and virtue. They become repositories of our best hopes that someone will emerge to take care of us, vanquish our enemies, and by their inspired leadership bring us together in a safe and happy world. To promise such a thing requires a self-confidence bordering on the delusional, which explains why the underlying narcissism of many of our political stars whom we reward with our votes and with whom we eventually become disillusioned when they fail to fulfill their exaggerated promises and our unrealistic hopes. (HTL, 11)
Having worked for a member of Congress for ten years (James Greenwood, PA-8), I have been on the periphery of important and powerful people. So I've seen a few behind-the-scene dynamics. I've learned that, contrary to the scandal and cynicism which pervades news coverage, many of our public servants are just that - public servants. Running for office requires lots of unglamorous hard work, as well as the courage to risk public rejection and failure. Some of our public officials truly have the integrity & conviction as advertised.
On the other hand, we are in no danger of a hypocrite shortage.
The point is that ALL of our public figures - entertainers, political leaders, reporters, and high-profile business people - are fallible human beings. They are not immortals whose mere presence should stir us into a frenzy. "Take up your cross and follow me" was an invitation to discipleship from a certain Rabbi. "Buy my CDs and follow me on tour" doesn't bear the same gravitas, nor does "Hit the campaign trail and I'll give you a government job."
Rock singers, U.S. Senators, Bishops; they have their message. The really good ones have really important messages that excite us. I'm all for inspiration. But let's not confuse the divinity of the message by deifying the messenger.
Let's save our passionate devotion for the real savior. For me, that savior is JC.
Julius Caesar? Jimmy Cagney? Jimminy Cricket? No, I'll go with Jesus the Christ.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Adventures in Wineberry Country
Yesterday morning, driving home after breakfast with a friend, I pulled over to the side of the road where I live. Hundreds of wineberry bushes were overflowing with deep-red berries. The dark color means that they are ripe, and they don't last once they get to that stage.
Got out of the car and eagerly picked the ones with the boldest color. Not only do they easily fall off the branch, they practically melt in my hand. The area is low ground, close to the Delaware River, and gets lots of sun, and I wonder if that makes a good formula for a bountiful crop.
After gathering a handful of these slightly-gooey things, I hear an unfamiliar KGKGKGGEEER, GEEEERKRGK sound coming from the ground. I'm pretty sure that it's a bird, but I don't see anything. I stop for a moment, nothing happens, and I continue. Taking a few steps to my right a bit further into the woods, I hear KIIIKGKGKGRK!! a little closer this time.
You can tell that I've watched too much TV this hot summer, because my imagination immediately takes me to the scene in "Jurassic Park" when the guy who played Newman on Seinfeld meets a dino-lizard whose innocent chirping quickly turns into man-eating growls. I started to backpedal, "Uh, no reason to get greedy here," and went back to the car.
No idea what creature produced that noise. Like I said, it was most likely a bird, and I didn't want to risk accidentally stepping on a nest. Plus, I'd rather not answer such questions via leg bite, thank you very much.
Got about 50 this time, and I'm gradually stockpiling enough to make jam.
Got out of the car and eagerly picked the ones with the boldest color. Not only do they easily fall off the branch, they practically melt in my hand. The area is low ground, close to the Delaware River, and gets lots of sun, and I wonder if that makes a good formula for a bountiful crop.
After gathering a handful of these slightly-gooey things, I hear an unfamiliar KGKGKGGEEER, GEEEERKRGK sound coming from the ground. I'm pretty sure that it's a bird, but I don't see anything. I stop for a moment, nothing happens, and I continue. Taking a few steps to my right a bit further into the woods, I hear KIIIKGKGKGRK!! a little closer this time.
You can tell that I've watched too much TV this hot summer, because my imagination immediately takes me to the scene in "Jurassic Park" when the guy who played Newman on Seinfeld meets a dino-lizard whose innocent chirping quickly turns into man-eating growls. I started to backpedal, "Uh, no reason to get greedy here," and went back to the car.
No idea what creature produced that noise. Like I said, it was most likely a bird, and I didn't want to risk accidentally stepping on a nest. Plus, I'd rather not answer such questions via leg bite, thank you very much.
Got about 50 this time, and I'm gradually stockpiling enough to make jam.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
It's Hot
The past few weeks have been, to quote an overplayed wedding song, Hot Hot Hot. However, my policy about weather complaints is the Eighth Amendment Standard: I try to reserve griping for "cruel and unusual" weather patterns.
For instance, ice storms that create dangerous driving conditions are cruel. Excessive rainfall that results in destructive floods - ditto. The same goes for draughts which kill plant life and set the stage for brush fires. Those are "cruel" weather patterns which deserve complaints.
"Unusual" means stuff out of place or season. Ninety-degree temps belong in mid-July Pennsylvania, so the present conditions don't satisfy my groan criteria. Reaching the 90s in April, however - which has mysteriously occurred the past two springs - is not supposed to happen. April means the return of baseball, flower buds, and moderate weather, not heat waves.
So yes, it's very very hot out there. Abiding by the 8th Amendment policy, though, I have no complaints. I'm just thankful that I have a roof overhead and a cool place in which to blog.
For instance, ice storms that create dangerous driving conditions are cruel. Excessive rainfall that results in destructive floods - ditto. The same goes for draughts which kill plant life and set the stage for brush fires. Those are "cruel" weather patterns which deserve complaints.
"Unusual" means stuff out of place or season. Ninety-degree temps belong in mid-July Pennsylvania, so the present conditions don't satisfy my groan criteria. Reaching the 90s in April, however - which has mysteriously occurred the past two springs - is not supposed to happen. April means the return of baseball, flower buds, and moderate weather, not heat waves.
So yes, it's very very hot out there. Abiding by the 8th Amendment policy, though, I have no complaints. I'm just thankful that I have a roof overhead and a cool place in which to blog.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Relationship with God
Relationships - romantic, familial, political - have always been a favorite topic of mine. Many of my personal rel-ships need work, and I hope to attend to them in the months ahead. That said, there's one 'ship that especially beckons: my relationship with God.
For most of my life, I have been suspicious of phrases like "relationship with God." What does that mean, exactly? How can I relate to an invisible and eternal being? What I am supposed to do? How does one tell the difference between a "real" divine encounters and the projection of deified fantasies into an imaginary relationship?
Well, thank goodness we have blogs to answer such questions once and for all!! Kidding aside, these profound questions warrant (and have inspired) volumes and volumes of writings. Today I'm only going to do the two-minute drill and will save the dissertation for another time. Here is my three-step process for boosting one's relationship with The Godster.
The Image of God: When someone reads or hears the word "GOD," it triggers an image in that person's mind. What is that image for you? For most of my life, I thought of a white man, white robe, white beard, sitting on a throne in a cloud. This is God as Zeus which goes all the way back to the Hellenistic influences on early Christianity. Somewhat ironically, the image was further solidified in the 1950s when Charlton Heston played Moses in the film remake of "The Ten Commandments." Although this heroic father imagery has its place in the Christian canon, it can lead to problems if left unexamined.
First, Zeus and Moses have a law-or-bust preoccupation. That can lead to (what I believe is) a misleading interpretation of God as harsh judge whose biggest concern is that his subjects obey his rules. Second, the image is far too limiting; it's hard for me to accept that the creator of the WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE looks like a retired English Professor in a bathrobe. Third, the image sets off the patriarchy alarms like crazy. In light of male power dominance throughout Western history, it's too convenient to simply think of God as a male, not to mention a straight, able-bodied white guy.
To counteract such unconscious programming, I'm trying to play with different divine imagery, things as big as the nighttime sky to as small as microscopic cells. After all, the God that I worship inhabits such places large and small.
If this topic interests you, check out the 1997 book The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Contemporary Faith by Marcus Borg. It's a thoughtful and challenging exploration of how our images of God unconsciously play a big role in our formation.
Talking to God - There are many ways to communicate with God, but the most critical and (for me) underutilized form is prayer. One type is intercessory prayer, ie praying on behalf of others. For instance: Oh God, please help my dad while he rehabs from his recent knee replacement surgery. Then there's meditation prayer, they type where I stop listening to the white noise streaming through my brain and just be still. Stillness and quiet are openings for the Holy Spirit.
Meditation is not the same as black magic; it's not invoking power to do your will. Instead, it means coming into harmony with God's creation around us, deepening our attentiveness and awareness to the soft, still voice of God. Mysteriously, unpredictably, and graciously, prayer "works."
Do Something - Think about God, talk to God, and then act on that. Do something consistent with what you believe God is and what you have heard God say to you. Let your image of God inspire you in your human relationships.
I'm not sure what that "doing" will entail for me, at least not in the short term, but I'll continue to do steps 1 and 2 in the meantime. Certainly, time with Scripture provides many examples of Godly relationships, from the ancient Israelites to the early followers of Jesus. To answer a question I posed earlier, Scripture is one resource that can help us discern the difference between our will and the will of God.
What images for God do you find helpful? What is your favorite way to communication with God? How do those two answers inform the choices you make in daily life?
For most of my life, I have been suspicious of phrases like "relationship with God." What does that mean, exactly? How can I relate to an invisible and eternal being? What I am supposed to do? How does one tell the difference between a "real" divine encounters and the projection of deified fantasies into an imaginary relationship?
Well, thank goodness we have blogs to answer such questions once and for all!! Kidding aside, these profound questions warrant (and have inspired) volumes and volumes of writings. Today I'm only going to do the two-minute drill and will save the dissertation for another time. Here is my three-step process for boosting one's relationship with The Godster.
The Image of God: When someone reads or hears the word "GOD," it triggers an image in that person's mind. What is that image for you? For most of my life, I thought of a white man, white robe, white beard, sitting on a throne in a cloud. This is God as Zeus which goes all the way back to the Hellenistic influences on early Christianity. Somewhat ironically, the image was further solidified in the 1950s when Charlton Heston played Moses in the film remake of "The Ten Commandments." Although this heroic father imagery has its place in the Christian canon, it can lead to problems if left unexamined.
First, Zeus and Moses have a law-or-bust preoccupation. That can lead to (what I believe is) a misleading interpretation of God as harsh judge whose biggest concern is that his subjects obey his rules. Second, the image is far too limiting; it's hard for me to accept that the creator of the WHOLE ENTIRE UNIVERSE looks like a retired English Professor in a bathrobe. Third, the image sets off the patriarchy alarms like crazy. In light of male power dominance throughout Western history, it's too convenient to simply think of God as a male, not to mention a straight, able-bodied white guy.
To counteract such unconscious programming, I'm trying to play with different divine imagery, things as big as the nighttime sky to as small as microscopic cells. After all, the God that I worship inhabits such places large and small.
If this topic interests you, check out the 1997 book The God We Never Knew: Beyond Dogmatic Religion to a More Contemporary Faith by Marcus Borg. It's a thoughtful and challenging exploration of how our images of God unconsciously play a big role in our formation.
Talking to God - There are many ways to communicate with God, but the most critical and (for me) underutilized form is prayer. One type is intercessory prayer, ie praying on behalf of others. For instance: Oh God, please help my dad while he rehabs from his recent knee replacement surgery. Then there's meditation prayer, they type where I stop listening to the white noise streaming through my brain and just be still. Stillness and quiet are openings for the Holy Spirit.
Meditation is not the same as black magic; it's not invoking power to do your will. Instead, it means coming into harmony with God's creation around us, deepening our attentiveness and awareness to the soft, still voice of God. Mysteriously, unpredictably, and graciously, prayer "works."
Do Something - Think about God, talk to God, and then act on that. Do something consistent with what you believe God is and what you have heard God say to you. Let your image of God inspire you in your human relationships.
I'm not sure what that "doing" will entail for me, at least not in the short term, but I'll continue to do steps 1 and 2 in the meantime. Certainly, time with Scripture provides many examples of Godly relationships, from the ancient Israelites to the early followers of Jesus. To answer a question I posed earlier, Scripture is one resource that can help us discern the difference between our will and the will of God.
What images for God do you find helpful? What is your favorite way to communication with God? How do those two answers inform the choices you make in daily life?
Monday, July 5, 2010
(Independence) Day in the Life
This year I celebrated Independence Day with three red-white-and-blue activities: morning church, evening family picnic, and afternoon rubus phoenicolasius.
Began the day attending Holy Eucharist at my home parish, St. James Langhorne. Great to see friends I hadn't seen in six months. Rev. Barbara Kelley gave an informative homily/history lesson - without notes, no less! - reminding us that the balance of church and state has been a long-standing issue in the Church of England, not to mention its ensuing mutations (ie the Episcopal Church).
At night, I gathered with my family for a 4th picnic. My bro-in-law used the grill, but nobody wanted to stay outside very long because it was 999 degrees out there. So we enjoyed burgers & mom's premier potato salad in the comforts of my sister's air-conditioned dining room. Nice to have low-key family time.
In between these social outings, I picked Wineberries, aka rubus phoenicolasius. Evidently, these plants are indigenous to Asia. Explorers brought them to Western Europe and then to North America for decoration. They escaped, multiplied, and have found a home for themselves in Southeastern Pennsylvania, including my 'rents property north of New Hope. Although somewhat tart, Wineberries are delicious when ripe and easy to pick.
There's a catch to berry-ing, however. Central Bucks has been a hot zone for Lyme Disease, an ailment that can be transmitted via tick bite. Yuck. Spend any time in the deep woods around here, and it's amazing how quickly the ticks find you. (Insert favorite joke about ex-partners, telemarketers, lawyers, etc.) It's laughable that picking little berries in the woods is a dangerous enterprise, but such is life East of Edensville.
My mom, sister and I used to pick berries when sis & I were youngsters. Lots of fun memories doing that, in part because the Wineberries ripen in early July, aka the beginning of summer vacation. This year, for some reason, I'm feeling my age and wanted to refresh a childhood joy. So I got it into my head that I wasn't letting any teeny-tiny punk interfere with my walk down memory-berried lane.
As a precaution, I dressed like a character from Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain: long white pants, white socks rolled over the pant legs, white tee shirt, and white baseball cap. With this all-white getup, I could either hunt for berries or do a morning power walk at a shopping mall.
The sun was out, scorching everything in its view. I didn't linger outside too long, maybe twenty minutes. Those minutes yielded about two cups worth - not bad for a first day of picking. Since they are just starting to ripen, I left quite a few small ones on the bushes.
As soon as I walked back into my parents' house, I barely had time to show off my harvest when Hawkeye Mom spotted... guess what? Yep, a creepy crawly on my shirt. She removed him/her promptly, and she/he was last seen "white water rafting" towards the septic tank. Life in the country has its hazards.
It's a blessing to have the time and freedom to enjoy the simple pleasures of life: good liturgy among friends, good food among family, and time amidst God's creation. Can't help but wonder, though: why didn't Noah throw those two ticks overboard?
Began the day attending Holy Eucharist at my home parish, St. James Langhorne. Great to see friends I hadn't seen in six months. Rev. Barbara Kelley gave an informative homily/history lesson - without notes, no less! - reminding us that the balance of church and state has been a long-standing issue in the Church of England, not to mention its ensuing mutations (ie the Episcopal Church).
At night, I gathered with my family for a 4th picnic. My bro-in-law used the grill, but nobody wanted to stay outside very long because it was 999 degrees out there. So we enjoyed burgers & mom's premier potato salad in the comforts of my sister's air-conditioned dining room. Nice to have low-key family time.
In between these social outings, I picked Wineberries, aka rubus phoenicolasius. Evidently, these plants are indigenous to Asia. Explorers brought them to Western Europe and then to North America for decoration. They escaped, multiplied, and have found a home for themselves in Southeastern Pennsylvania, including my 'rents property north of New Hope. Although somewhat tart, Wineberries are delicious when ripe and easy to pick.
There's a catch to berry-ing, however. Central Bucks has been a hot zone for Lyme Disease, an ailment that can be transmitted via tick bite. Yuck. Spend any time in the deep woods around here, and it's amazing how quickly the ticks find you. (Insert favorite joke about ex-partners, telemarketers, lawyers, etc.) It's laughable that picking little berries in the woods is a dangerous enterprise, but such is life East of Edensville.
My mom, sister and I used to pick berries when sis & I were youngsters. Lots of fun memories doing that, in part because the Wineberries ripen in early July, aka the beginning of summer vacation. This year, for some reason, I'm feeling my age and wanted to refresh a childhood joy. So I got it into my head that I wasn't letting any teeny-tiny punk interfere with my walk down memory-berried lane.
As a precaution, I dressed like a character from Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain: long white pants, white socks rolled over the pant legs, white tee shirt, and white baseball cap. With this all-white getup, I could either hunt for berries or do a morning power walk at a shopping mall.
The sun was out, scorching everything in its view. I didn't linger outside too long, maybe twenty minutes. Those minutes yielded about two cups worth - not bad for a first day of picking. Since they are just starting to ripen, I left quite a few small ones on the bushes.
As soon as I walked back into my parents' house, I barely had time to show off my harvest when Hawkeye Mom spotted... guess what? Yep, a creepy crawly on my shirt. She removed him/her promptly, and she/he was last seen "white water rafting" towards the septic tank. Life in the country has its hazards.
It's a blessing to have the time and freedom to enjoy the simple pleasures of life: good liturgy among friends, good food among family, and time amidst God's creation. Can't help but wonder, though: why didn't Noah throw those two ticks overboard?
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