Proud Nana Alert

The GrandBabies were here for the weekend while The Parental Units went to a Devil's game.

It was Absolute Bliss!

We made cupcakes. From scratch. 

Chocolate with Butter Creme frosting.

Sprinkled with crushed peppermint candy.  Ms. Abby can wield a mean hammer while crushing the candy.

Topped with homemade white chocolate bark with crushed peppermint candy.   Yum.  Yum.

In between, we told stories and laughed and giggled.

Then, it was off to the Toy Store to get some ideas for Christmas, followed by dinner at Friendly's.  (Ya gotta love the 'color your own place mats' to keep your mind off a growling tummy).

Mackie had a 'build your own Sundae' for dessert.  Mint Chocolate Chip Ice cream with Hot Fudge Sauce, M&M's, and Sprinkles.

Then it was 'home again, home again, jiggidy-jig.

'Tubby Time' is always Fun.

We've had some of the tubby toys since Ms. Mackie was a small child.

They especially love the little rubber fish, but can be just as easily entertained with cups of water and bubbles.

If you haven't had enough sweetness, here's two stories: 

Abby called for me from the bathroom.  It sounded urgent. 

When I got to the bathroom, Ms. Abby had a special request. 

"I need you to wipe my bottom," she said.

I said, "I need you to wipe my bottom, please Nana." (Grandmothers are ruthless when it comes to teaching good manners.  You have to be. It's in the Grandmother's Handbook.  I checked.)

She sighed and dutifully said, "I need you to wipe my bottom, please Nana."

 "Why?" I asked, "Can't you do it yourself?"

"Yes," she said, "But, well, my poop is too stinky."

Hey, can't blame a body for trying, right?  I mean, from time to time, who doesn't want or need that, really?

As we were waiting for their parents to come fetch them on Sunday afternoon, Mackie announced, "You are the BEST grandmothers. Ever." 

And Abbi said, "Yea-ya!"

And then Abbi said, apropos of absolutely nothing (or perhaps because she was thinking that after they left, we'd be very sad), "I don't ever want you to be alone."

I said, "Why would I ever be alone?" And she said, her eyes sparkling, "You won't. You will always have me. And Tenna (her sister). And, Mommy and Daddy. And Dakota (their dog)."

Mackie nodded her head wisely and said, "And, Clara!" (her pet bunny - well, it wasn't 'Clara' after she got him for Christmas last year that the Vet told her that the bunny is really 'Clarence'). 

The sincerity in their little faces brought tears to my eyes. 

What joy!  What bliss!  I am absolutely stupid in love with these two.

Can you tell?

Never waste a serious crisis

“This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” Mark 13:1-8

XXIV Pentecost – November 15, 2009

The Episcopal Church of St. Paul

(the Rev’d Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton, rector and pastor

At first blush, today’s scriptural lessons seem as impossibly gloomy as the weather we’ve been having. But sometimes, things are not as bad as they seem.

Jesus and his boys Peter, James, John and Andrew are at the Temple in Jerusalem, and the boys from the little backwater town of Galilee seem to be really enjoying the sites and sounds of the Big City. “Wow!” you can hear one of his disciples say, “Just look at these large buildings!”

I understand. Whenever I visit our daughter at her NYC apartment, and we walk down her street, at some point she’ll inevitably tug on my sleeve and hiss, “Mom, please. Stop looking at the buildings. We look like tourists and this is MY neighborhood!” Mothers can be such embarrassments! Apparently, so can disciples.

In like manner, Jesus cuts right through their tourists’ enthusiasm. “Do you see these great buildings?” he asks. “Not one stone will be left – all will be thrown down.”

Of course, the boys want to know when this will take place – and will there be signs to warn them of the destruction of the Temple?

And Jesus tells them – there will be “wars and rumors of wars,” and “nation will rise up against nation and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.”

I don’t know about you, but every time I read this passage, I find myself scratching my head and saying, “Yeah, what else is new?” I mean, generations long before (and since!) Jesus have known ‘wars and rumors of wars’ and ‘nations rising up against nations’.

Indeed, we are experiencing similar disastrous times, right down to the wars and earthquakes in various places and famines – and just this week, “the Son of Ida” – the remnants of the hurricane which hit the Atlantic Basin – provided gusty winds, driving rain, unusually high tides and even serious coastal flooding and at least one related death!

So, which end of the world is it? THIS end of the world as we now know it – THAT one that Jesus talked about - or the NEXT one? How are we to know? What will be the signs? Questions and concerns like this have ever been thus in the history of the world.

Anyone who has ever looked at one of those Sky Mall Magazines while on a long plane ride and checked out the section on ‘motivational posters’ can tell you that in one of the Chinese dialects, the word for ‘crisis’ consists of two characters – one meaning ‘danger’ and the other ‘opportunity’.

I think that’s what White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel was referring to when he said, “You never want a serious crisis to go to waste. They are opportunities to do big things.”

Jesus says, “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.” And, in my experience, he would be right. What sometimes feels like the end of the world is often just the beginning of something new trying to be born.

Sometimes, life presents us with opportunities that come in the disguise of dangers. Sometimes, the dangers come again and again. If we look closely, sometimes we can even see a pattern emerging. Life has a way of providing us opportunities for learning, if we pay attention to the patterns.

There’s something called “A Short Story in Four Chapters” that’s told in 12-Step Programs. It goes something like this:

Chapter I: I go out for a walk. I am walking down the road. I see a pothole. I keep walking. I fall in. I pull myself out and keep walking.

Chapter II: I am walking down the same road. I see another pothole. This one is deeper. I keep walking. I fall in. This time I’ve hurt myself. I pull myself out and keep walking.

Chapter III. I am walking down the same road. I see another pothole. This one is very deep. I know there is danger. I keep walking. I fall in. This time, it’s really hard to pull myself out. I have to wait a long time, scared and all alone in that deep dark hole before some friends come by to help me. I’m pretty battered and bruised, but with some help, I make it. I’ve never fallen this far or hurt myself so bad. I’m walking, but I’m limping and humbled.

Chapter IV. I go out for a walk. I take another road. The end. And, the beginning.

Warning signs can sometimes emerge in the patterns of our lives. It’s a matter of paying attention. Life has a way of presenting us with crisis because, sometimes, it’s the only way that we’ll pay close enough attention to be able to learn the lessons we need to learn.

It’s easy to get distracted. We’d all rather look at the lovely sights around us, and marvel at the human ingenuity it takes to move large stones together, carve them just so, and create large buildings or monuments or statues.

Meanwhile, God is trying valiantly to get our attention, to look at what we are making with the stones and potholes in our own lives.

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus says, “Beware that no one leads you astray.” I don’t know about you, but I’m often my own worst enemy. No one can lead me astray better than me!

I can read my own press releases or listen to the accolades some people lavish on me and, in moments of weakness, I can actually start to believe them.

I can also listen to some of the harsh criticism and, in similar moments of weakness, I can also start to believe them, too.

The truth is that neither is true.

I’m neither a Hero nor a Villain. I’m neither the Messiah nor Satan Incarnate. And you know, neither are you. I’m just human. And, you know, so are you. I’m a child of God, just like you.

So, in these days of high anxiety and uncertainty, when the media ‘spin doctors’ are making us all dizzy with the high winds of the rhetoric of doom and gloom that blow as unrelenting as hurricane force gusts across the landscape of our lives, it’s easy to focus our attention on others. To be easily distracted by the bright lights and the sounds and sights of what seems like human success and achievement.

It’s easy to be quick to criticize or complain – why does s/he have and I don’t – and find ways to withhold our gratitude and decline the opportunity to make a sacrifice of thanksgiving.

This is Pledge In-Gathering Sunday. Today the pledges – the commitments – you’ve made to God through this church will be gathered and brought before the altar to be blessed.

What sign will you make, through your pledge – your commitment – of your gratitude for all God has done?

How is your pledge a sign of your hope, your confidence, in the abundance of God, even in a time of the perception of scarcity?

God blesses us – yes, blesses us – with crisis and you know, you never want to let a serious crisis go to waste. They are opportunities to do big things.

Like, deciding not to walk the same path and take the risk of traveling a different road. One, perhaps, that’s less traveled.

Or, if you are stuck on the same road, as you emerge from having fallen into yet another pothole, you’ll meet Jesus who will say to you, “This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

Amen.

Devastation

My dear friend Wayne just sent this picture of part of the Boardwalk at Rehoboth Beach.

He notes that it was taken on Thursday, BEFORE the worst of the Nor'easter hit on Friday, adding, "I'm afraid to see what it looks like, now."

Me, too.

Of your mercy and kindness, please pray for all those who live in the Atlantic Coastal area who are struggling to make sense of this devastation even as they begin to clean up and rebuild the damage.

Please pray especially for the beautiful soul of Terra Lyn Swinney, the 28 year old woman in Greensboro, NC, who died on November 11 when a gust of wind felled a tree which crushed her as she sat in her car with her son.

She leaves behind her husband, Kerry, her young son Tristan Douglas, her family and many, many friends - indeed, an entire community - to deeply grieve her loss.

There are no easy answers, no words to explain this terrible tragedy.

I only know this much to be true: Our loving God weeps for us even as Terra is welcomed into the loving arms of the Merciful One who is the Lord of Life, and rests now, bathed in Light Eternal.

Studying the Stained Glass Ceiling

There are some interesting statistics about congregational life that reflect some things about the status of women - specifically ordained women - in The Episcopal Church.

For example: According to statistics maintained by the Women’s Ministries at the National Church Center, compiled from statistics from the Church Pension Group, in the year 2004 the Diocese of Newark listed a total of 112 clergy employed in congregations in the diocese, 33.9% of whom were women; 29.6% of whom were female senior/solo rectors.

In the year 2007, the Diocese of Newark listed 98 parochial clergy (a loss of 14 clergy), 37.8% of whom were female (a gain of 3.9% in three years) and 31.8% of whom were female senior/solo rectors (a gain of 2.2% in three years).

Compared to national church statistics, in 2004 there were 5,829 parochial clergy, 29.2% of whom were female and 23.2% of whom were female senior/solo rectors.

In the year 2007, there were a reported 5,467 clergy (a decrease of 362 employed in parochial ministry), 31.4% of whom were women (an increase of 2.2% in three years), and 25.9% of whom were female senior/solo rectors (an increase of 2.7% in three years).

While the Diocese of Newark seems to be slightly ahead of the admittedly very modest gains in deployment of women, it is important to monitor these statistics, especially in these fragile economic times.

We are especially curious as to the correlation, if any, between the lower compensation packages women receive and the modest increase in the deployment of women.

Given the loss of personnel at the Episcopal Church Center (“815”), it becomes increasingly important for local dioceses to be increasingly vigilant at the local level in the name of justice.

With all that in mind, the members of the Women’s Commission in the Diocese of Newark, of which I've been a member since 1993, have submitted the following resolution to be considered at our Diocesan Convention in January:

Resolved, that this ____ Convention of the Episcopal Diocese of Newark requests the Women’s Commission to survey congregations and search committees in this diocese in terms of issues of fair practices in deployment strategies and compensation packages offered to female clergy and report its findings to the Committee on Clergy Compensation, the Bishop and this Convention in 2010.

We are hoping to engage a few folk in the church who can help us design a survey tool that will give us the best opportunity to yield the information we are seeking.

What we do with that information will, of course, be dependent upon our findings.

As an aside, I'm betting that there are still close to 112 clergy still involved in parochial ministry, but the largest percentage of those clergy are part time 'interim clergy'.

Interim Ministry has become a 'cottage industry' for clergy - men and women - who are either recently retired (and therefore, receiving their pension and health care benefits), women who have young families or husbands with demanding and well-paid professional positions, and those men and women who also hold secular (read: better paying) positions which often provide a benefit package which makes them "more affordable" to financially strapped congregations.

Have you noticed, at least in The Episcopal Church, how long an 'interim period' lasts? For some congregations, it's as long as two full years. Some, longer. Very, very few shorter than that. And, you know, I don't think the results have been uniformly good - either for the congregation or in terms of the 'fit' of the person called as new rector.

The pro's and con's of that particular situation is another conversation for another day. The focus of THIS study is specifically about the status of ordained women in the church, which, I think, is a measure of our commitment to the work of Gospel justice.

I encourage you to study the 'stained glass ceiling' in your own diocese. I have a feeling you'll be amazed at what you find.

The Constant Howl

The word is out and it's not good.

The "Son of Ida" - the remains of the hurricane that battered the Atlantic Basin - is making its way up the Atlantic Coast and is now being called a "Tropical Depression."

Llangollen, our wee cottage on Rehoboth Bay, is, apparently, getting plummeted with high winds and rain. This morning's tide is reportedly eight feet higher than usual.

Some of our friends who live there have been evacuated. Others are hunkering down, unable to get out before the flash flooding made it impossible to leave. Some are sore afraid.

Parts of Rt. 1 are closed. The word is that, last night, an ocean wave breached a sand dune just before the Causeway and crashed onto the highway.

Ocean City, DE has been evacuated and closed down. Parts of Southern Jersey are under a State of Emergency.

Meanwhile, news reporters and television meteorologists appear on my TV screen, foolishly standing out in the rain that seems to be pouring down from all angles, all at once. They place themselves, clinging to a microphone, in front of a roaring ocean, or under a pier, the sea foam swirling around their feet as the wind threatens to blow them from their place in front of the camera.

Are we supposed to be impressed? Reassured? Or, scared half to death?

When I spoke with one of my friends this morning in Bethany Beach, he said - at least three times - "The howl of the wind is almost constant. Between the rising water and the constant howl, it's pretty disconcerting."

"Disconcerting," he said. I'm sure he just didn't want to alarm me. Too bad. Didn't work.

Not that there's anything I can do. Except pray. And, be thankful that property damage is something that can get repaired. I just pray that no lives are seriously damaged or lost to this storm.

It's easy to wax philosophical about the occasional "storms of life" and the role of faith. It's not so easy to do that when you're in the midst of a "tropical depression" which seems to do more damage than an actual hurricane.

It's also easy to wax poetic about the metaphors of storms and tropical depressions and hurricanes that plummet the East Coast this time of year - as well as the paradox of the fires, flash flooding and mudslides that devastated the West Coast just a few weeks ago.

Logic would seem to indicate that the safest place in America is the "Heartland" - except, of course, for those pesky tornadoes they seem to get so often. Oh, and the droughts. And, the Big Snow.

It's easier, still, to wax scriptural - especially with this Sunday's lesson about the "sign of the end of times". I have no doubt the televangelists are already pointing to things like Reproductive Rights and Marriage Equality as evidence of God's judgment on this nation.

"Then Jesus began to say to them, 'Beware that no one leads you astray.' (Mk 13.5)"

I'm not going to do any of that. No philosophy. No poetry. No scripture. No easy answers. Not for the complicated web of questions that make up the human enterprise on 'this fragile earth, our island home'.

Not while I sit here, happily ensconced in my toasty warm house, sipping my tea, safe and secure, away from the sputtering rain and occasional gusts of wind outside my window, as I reflect on the status of my friends and neighbors just three or four hours away and pray fervently for them.

I'm just going to ask you to join me in prayer.

I think it's the only way to respond to 'the constant howl' that is always present in our lives - whether we hear it or not.

PS - For those who like these things, you can watch a live web cam here From time to time, I've been checking in as the bulldozers clean up the mess on Rt. 1 and the Indian River Inlet. Also watching Rehoboth and Bethany Beaches. It looks pretty wicked out there.

Religious Identity: Back to The Garden

Sometimes, random things connect in a certain way and then, suddenly, things just begin to "click".

It began with this little 'blurb' in the Century Marks section of November 17th issue of The Christian Century, which lead to a link reporting the full story.

Atheism schism: A rift is growing in the atheist community (see news story in this issue). On the one side are the militant "new atheists" like Christopher Hitchens, who claim that religion should be treated "with ridicule, hatred and contempt." On the other side are old school atheists like Paul Kurtz, who founded the Center for Inquiry 30 years ago to provide an alternative to religion. Kurtz builds alliances with religious groups on issues like addressing climate change and opposing the teaching of creationism in public schools. Kurtz says he was ousted as director of the center in a "palace coup" a year ago. "I consider them atheist fundamentalists," Kurtz says of his atheist opponents ("Morning Edition," October 19, NPR).

'Atheist fundamentalists'?

Really?

Sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it?

Later that afternoon, I was reading the November 16th issue of TIME magazine, deeply engrossed in the article about Hillary Clinton.

When I turned the page, I was not expecting the following article: "A Tale of Two Priests," which began with this quote:

The leaders of the Roman Catholic Church traditionally couch even the harshest disagreements in decorous, ecclesiastical language. But it didn't take a decoder ring to figure out what Rome-based Archbishop Raymond Burke meant in a late-September address when he charged Boston Cardinal Seán O'Malley with being under the influence of Satan, "the father of lies."

Well, there it is, then. I could hardly believe my eyes. Dueling Prelates in Purple, locked in mortal rhetorical combat? And they weren't Anglican?

He had my attention at 'Satan'.

You'll never guess the reason for the Archbishop's outburst at the Cardinal. No you won't. Honest. As ugly as things have gotten in the Anglican Communion, this one takes First Prize in the Ugly Religious Rhetoric Contest.

Okay, I'll tell you. Archbishop Burke was commenting on Cardinal O'Malley's decision to permit - and preside over - a funeral Mass for the late Senator Ted Kennedy.

I am not making this up.

Apparently, he and "right-wing Catholics" lobbied the Boston archdiocese to refuse the Kennedy family a church funeral, questioning whether the Senator should even be described as a Catholic because of his support for abortion rights and his rather "checkered" life history.

Robert Royal of the "Faith & Reason Institute" (which sounds like it could be Anglican, right? Not!) called O'Malley's decision to go ahead with the Mass a "grave scandal" on par with the sexual abuse crisis.

Can you believe that? From someone who calls himself 'Christian'?

After visiting the FRI website and reading their Statement of Purpose, I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised at that level of vitriol. Their "purpose" reads very much like Rome's version of the Institute on Religion and Democracy.

Go ahead. Click on the link and read what they have to say. You'll be amazed at the similarities in the rhetoric of FRI and the IRD.

Lest you think that all Roman Catholics have gone over the edge, let me hasten to reprint this quote from the article:

When told of the archbishop's assertion that pro-choice Catholics should not be permitted funeral rites, Princeton professor Robert George was taken aback: "That's a very different, and obviously graver, claim than that with which I would have sympathy. I haven't heard before any bishop say that pro-abortion politicians should not be given a Catholic funeral."

Mind you, Cardinal O'Malley could never be mistaken for a liberal. He is a conservative on matters of doctrine, and for the past few years, he has been the face of the church's opposition to Massachusetts' marriage equality laws.

Even so, O'Malley didn't flinch. In a September 2 post on his blog - he's apparently the ONLY Cardinal with a blog - O'Malley wrote,

"In the strongest terms I disagree" with those who believe Kennedy did not deserve a funeral Mass. "We will not change hearts by turning away from people in their time of need and when they are experiencing grief," he continued. "At times, even in the Church, zeal can lead people to issue harsh judgments and impute the worst motives to one another. These attitudes and practices do irreparable damage to the communion of the Church."

Archbishop Burke, who could never be accused of being a shrinking violet, fired back. According to TIME,

At a September 18 dinner in Washington sponsored by the conservative media outlet Inside Catholic, Burke declared that "neither Holy Communion nor funeral rites should be administered to "pro choice politicians." The audience gave Burke a prolonged standing ovation.

It was this observation, however, from TIME reporter, Amy Sullivan, that suddenly gave off a loud cosmic "click":

"The debate nominally centers on the question of how to deal with politicians who support abortion rights. Burke and others who believe a Catholic's position on abortion trumps all other teachings have faced off against those who take a more holistic view of the faith. (Okay - here it comes -)But at the core, the divide is over who decides what it means to be Catholic."

The sound you just heard was something in the cosmos clicking something in the inner recesses of your brain.

Hmmmm . . . . . Do da name Robert Duncan strike a familiar note?

Just this past Sunday, there was an interview with Himself in the New York Times Magazine section entitled, "Is this Bishop Catholic?"

Well, if you use Archbishop Burke's standard of saying embarrassing things about yourself in print, then Bob Duncan affirmatively answers the question.

After demurring from the label 'Ultraright' by saying "I wouldn’t characterize us as ultraright. We don’t beat up folks. We are sort of mainstream right, " (Yes, that's a direct quote! See also: You can't make this stuff up), he presents us with one of the most amazing displays of hubris I've ever seen from a cleric - well, in print, anyway.

TIMES: We should point out that you were deposed from ministry of the Episcopal Church by the presiding bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori, after you threatened to have your diocese in Pittsburgh secede.

DUNCAN: That was a year ago, but what’s interesting is that virtually no one in the Anglican world accepted that sentence. Within two weeks of being deposed, I was received at Lambeth Palace in London by the archbishop of Canterbury, who continues to consider me a bishop.

Oh, for Pity's sake! Can you believe this? The man has tea with Poppa and all is right with the world?!?! The Archbishop of Canterbury 'continues to consider me a bishop'. Mind you, the ABC has never said that publicly.

Hmmm . . . Wait - isn't Duncan an ARCHBISHOP?? So, if the ABC considers him a bishop, does that mean . . . . .?

Oh, never mind. It's all so silly, anyway. The sight of white haired old men, standing around in full length purple dresses, big old pieces of ornate jewelry around their necks, calling each other "Father" has always weirded me out.

You must check out the thinly veiled sexism in this exchange:

TIMES: Bishop Schori heads the Episcopal Church in this country, and you opposed her election in 2006?
DUNCAN: She was the least qualified, the least experienced, of the candidates, but I hoped that what she would bring if she were elected was the kind of grace that women often bring. She turned out to be far harder, far less willing to bend or compromise, than any of the men.

Oh, but wait - there's more:

TIMES: What was your childhood like?
DUNCAN:My family knew a lot of turmoil, and there were a lot of things that happened in the house that were very unhappy. My mother was emotionally disturbed. She was a very difficult person. There were times when I was not sure I’d wake up in the morning because of her violence.

TIMES: And your father?
DUNCAN: He just died last week.

TIMES: I’m sorry. Were you close to him?
DUNCAN: Again, not greatly close to him. I tried to be a faithful son. He didn’t know how to handle my mother.

See above quote about the Presiding Bishop. You won't even break a sweat connecting those dots.

Why am I not surprised that we haven't seen anything about this interview over on the Far Right, uber-Orthodox blogs?

But, here's the money quote from Duncan, responding to a question about the lawsuits brought about by the Episcopal Diocese of Pittsburgh to take rightful control of the property and the buildings which the ACNA now occupies:

They may get the stuff, but we’ll get the souls.
They may get the past, but we’ve got the future.

The loud cosmic 'click' you just heard happened when you put together the above quote with the article about the Atheists and the one about the Roman Catholic Church.

At the core, the battle is over who decides identity. From the Atheists to the Anglicans and down the Tiber to Rome.

It's all about the power to decide 'true' identity. Which is always about the opportunity to create something in our own image - as opposed to acknowledging the image which God has created.

Can you say 'grandiosity' children? Okay, how about 'idolatry'? No? Um, does 'hubris' work for you?

Okay, let's make it really simple: It's sin.

It's not uncommon to the struggle over Jewish identity - Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionists. Assimilation is a serious identity concern to all four branches of Judaism.

The Muslims are no stranger to the struggle. "No, we're not a violent religion. Oh, yes we are. Oh, no - we're just a gentle angry people. No, death to America!"

We even see it in those whose religious identity is tied up with their American identity. Isn't it the far-right wing nuts - the Tea Bag Party Republican Evangelicals - who keep telling us what it means to be a 'real' American, even as they try to define 'marriage'.

For some, it means you can't have a name that sounds like it couldn't possibly be Christian. Or, of a color that couldn't possibly be Western European.

So, I'm thinking that we're back in the Garden again. Eden, I mean.

The first gift God gave Adam was the ability to give names to all the creatures - to name and identify them.

It's an almost a primal power, isn't it? And, it's in danger.

Within the sound of the cosmic clicks of insight about identity are the sounds of the death rattle of patriarchy. The dominant male paradigm of power is shifting and some of the Old Boys are getting pretty nervous.

They have become Religious Sheriffs of the Wild, Wild East and West, forming posses and ridding off into the vast religious frontier to bring back the order of "Natural Law" to the land where men are men and women know their place.

Why celibate old men - or any man - should have anything to say about what's 'natural' for my body - my reproductive system or my sexuality or my life or my reality - is absolutely beyond me.

Indeed, why would anyone want that kind of control over another person? Why would anyone want to define reality for someone else? Why would you want to force an identity onto someone else - especially when you would never want that to happen to you?

Why would you deny the sacraments of the church - especially to those who hunger and thirst for Jesus or who are grieving over the loss of a loved one - because they don't follow your rules?

Why would you want to kill someone who doesn't believe what you believe?

Why would you believe that anyone of any religious persuasion should be treated "with ridicule, hatred and contempt"?

Well, I'll let you answer those questions for yourself.

Ironically enough, this picture appeared on the pages of Inside Catholic. It was the illustration for an article entitled, "Heaven Can Wait."

Want to get back to The Garden?

Want to get to Heaven? Want to avoid the pains of Hell?

Follow the sign.

Stay to the Left.

Remembering Veterans Day - and "Alive Day"

On Being Asked for a War Poem, William Butler Yeats (1865–1939)

I think it better that in times like these
A poet keep his mouth shut, for in truth
We have no gift to set a statesman right;
He has had enough of meddling who can please
A young girl in the indolence of her youth,
Or an old man upon a winter’s night.

I think Yeats has got it right.

So, on this Veteran's Day, I'm just going to let the soldiers, themselves, speak.

Well, one of them anyway.

This is a clip from the 2007 HBO Special Iraq War Documentary, "Alive Day" which was produced by James Gandolfini.

It is not a political documentary. It stays relentlessly focused on the soldiers - their lives, before and after their life-threatening and mutilating injuries - some of which are painfully obvious.

Even this brief clip is not for the faint of heart.

Other injuries may be invisible to the naked eye, but they are nonetheless part of the debilitating effects of PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Today, Veteran's Day, consider spending a few minutes listening to this interview with 27 year old Dawn Halfaker, First Lt, US Army, 293 Military Police.

Her "Alive Day" was June 19, 2004 - the day she narrowly escaped from death. Her right arm and shoulder were amputated. She spent ten days in a medically induced coma as part of her surgical recovery.

One of the most touching moments in this clip is when she wonders aloud, as she fights back tears, if anyone will ever love her. . . if, because she can't pick up a child she might have, that her son or daughter might feel any less loved. Might be able to love her, still.

The expression of her fears not only speaks poignantly about the on-going healing process of her mind and spirit, but also reveal her courage to be vulnerable.

Completely human.

A brave and honorable person.

Of your kindness and mercy, please keep Dawn and all the veterans of war in your prayers today. I offer three prayers.

This one is a Prayer for Veteran's Day by Jennifer Phillips, from her book, "Simple Prayers for Complicated Lives."

Governor of Nations, our Strength and Shield: we give you thanks for the devotion and courage of all those who have offered military service for this country: For those who have fought for freedom; for those who laid down their lives for others; for those who have borne suffering of mind or of body; for those who have brought their best gifts to times of need.

On our behalf they have entered into danger, endured separation from those they love, labored long hours, and borne hardship in war and in peacetime. Lift up by your mighty Presence those who are now at war; encourage and heal those in hospitals or mending their wounds at home; guard those in any need or trouble; hold safely in your hands all military families; and bring the returning troops to joyful reunion and tranquil life at home.

Give to us, your people, grateful hearts and a united will to honor these men and women and hold them always in our love and our prayers; until your world is perfected in peace through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

Finally, these two prayers which were adapted from the prayers which can be found on page 823 of the Book of Common Prayer.

Almighty God, we commend to your gracious care and keeping all the men and women of our armed forces at home and abroad. Defend them day by day with your heavenly grace; strengthen them in their trials and temptations; give them courage to face the perils which beset them; and grant them a sense of your abiding presence wherever they may be; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

O God, our Heavenly Creator, whose Only Child forgave his enemies while he was suffering shame and death: Strengthen those who suffer for the sake of conscience; when they are accused, save them from speaking with hate; when they are rejected, save them from bitterness; when they are imprisoned, save them from despair; and to us your servants, give grace to respect their witness and to discern te truth, that our society may be cleansed and strengthened. This we ask for the sake of Jesus Christ, our merciful and righteous Judge. Amen.

Lighten up, already!

I've been working awfully hard of late. Lots of pastorally sensitive issues to manage, even as anxiety reigns supreme at "Wall Street on Main Street".

Publication deadlines for two essays have come and gone. Pledge In-gathering Sunday this coming weekend, followed by a Vestry Appreciation Brunch. I've got the bread for the Sweet Potato Casserole I'm going to make so it ought to be perfect when I put it together on Thursday night.

Made two great vats of Seafood Chowder which are in the freezer. I'm now preparing to make two more great vats of African Peanut Soup tomorrow night for the Christmas Bazaar.

And, just because we're completely stupid in love with them, the grand kids are coming this weekend for a "double sleepover".

As if all that weren't enough, just this afternoon, without any warning whatsoever, I found myself looking down the short end of the barrel of a Saturday, less than a month away, that begins at 9 AM with a Christmas Bazaar which ends at 4 PM,  includes a Memorial Service for two of our "Snow Birds" at 4:30 followed by a funeral repast in the Parish Hall (which, one trusts, will be cleaned up from the Christmas Bazaar and turned into a banquet hall for 150 people), and God willing ends with an Open House on the UWS in NYC that evening.

Oh, and the very next Saturday?  That would be the ordination of Jon Richardson at 3 PM which  is preceded by the Annual Altar Guild Christmas Brunch, and followed by preparation for The Greening of the Church.  

Time management? Bwhahahahahaha! Lord, have mercy!

So, when Doug sent me these silly cartoons, I laughed so hard I cried. Thankfully, my body is still young enough to allow water to be emitted from appropriate bodily orifices  in response to laughter.

Here are a few more that sent me right over the edge. Thanks, Doug. You made my morning.

You know what this is, don't you?

Why of course!  It's Moo Shoe Pork!

Right!  What mother doesn't have to remind her kids of this in the summertime?  Although, don't you just hate being 'poked' on FaceBook?

I'm sorry.  I know.  It's bad.  But, every time I look at it, I can't stop laughing.

Wait, wait, wait.  Ahem.  (Bunch of pricks!)  Bwwhahahahaha!

Okay, okay.  Here's another:

 

I have no idea why I find this so funny.  Just hits a really sick place in my psyche, I guess.  Just like this one, I suppose:

Like a Larson cartoon, right?  Golfers are absolutely prime targets for this kind of humor.  Nothing, but nothing or nobody no how gets in the way of their game.

But, I saved my favorite for last

There.  I feel so much better.  I think I might actually find my way to the church office this morning.

Have a GREAT day!