Ruth Kolpack's Theology and Michele Obama's Arms

This is an image I lifted from the latest report from NCR (National Catholic Reporter).

It's the story of Ruth M. Kolpack, the pastoral associate who was recently fired by Madison, Wis., Roman Catholic Bishop Robert Morlino.

Why? What heinous thing did she do? Did she have sex with a choir girl or boy? Has she been having an illicit affair with a parishioner? Has she been engaging in slander, raising questions and "doubt" that "Father" might be doing bad things in the rectory with little boys?

No, none of these things. She was fired for writing these words in an academic paper six years ago:

"In the same way that God acted to save the Israelites from captivity, God is 'acting now to free women from their captivity' and to free 'God language from the captivity of patriarchy'.”

Yup. That is, 'yup' to your heads nodding 'no' in disbelief. And, 'yup' to her assessment of God's activity in our worshiping communities of faith.

You can read it all here.

NCR reports: "The document in question actually comprises three papers totaling 51 pages of text and footnotes that investigate a comprehensive examination topic under the heading, “Inclusive Language for Naming God: Challenge for the Church.”

The papers, dated January through March, deal with the subject, respectively, from the perspectives of scripture, systematic theology and moral theology. The papers were written to fulfill requirements for a master of divinity degree at St. Francis Seminary."

In a previous article, NCR also reports that Kolpack was fired after a 10 minute meeting with the not-so-good Bishop who asked her to "denounce the thesis, make a profession of faith, and take an oath of loyalty in order to remain as a pastoral associate at the parish.

She said she could profess her faith and take an oath, but could not refute the thesis in good conscience, that to do so would risk her reputation as a scholar."

And, for that, she was fired.

Oh, the Bishop admitted to "reading bits and pieces" of her paper. Why read the whole thing when you are secure in the knowledge that, in terms of God, you have "the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth".

Normally, I would dismiss this whole thing with a deep sigh and a very sad shrug of my shoulders, placing articles like this and the recent reports of Pope Benny's pronouncements about condoms and AIDS in Cameroon into the "circular file" with a prayer of thanksgiving that I long ago left Rome for Canterbury, adding a wee prayer for all my RC friends who have chosen to stay and fight the good fight.


"Only in the church," I sigh.

Except, lately, I've been thinking about Michele Obama's arms.

Is it just me, or has the whole world gone 'gaga' over the upper extremities of our new First Lady?

Okay, they are toned. If I'm honest, I admit to being envious of them. More importantly, she inspires me to take my own physical fitness more seriously.

But, what is it about her arms that produce such mania in the media?

I want to suggest that this is a thinly-veiled but nonetheless obvious example of the co-mingling of racism and sexism.

It's more of the same, in darker shades, as it were, of what is happening to Ruth Kolpack.

It's nothing new. The media has always been atwitter with the fashion of women in power. Recently, fashionsita journalism is completely obsessed with Hillary Rodham Clinton's trench coat. I loved it when she turned the table on her critics with her reference to "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits".

Her predecessor, Condoleeza Rice, was not immune. When she wore high-heeled boots a few years ago, she was instantly and shamefully dubbed a "dominatrix".

When Madeline Albright wore broaches on her colorful business suits, it did not escape the view of the fashionistas at People Magazine who said, as I recall, that she brought "a new panache to power suits for women."

I know I'm not alone among my sisters of the cloth who have not escaped scrutiny about the way I dress, which has been called everything from "interesting" to "crunchy granola-earth-mother-social-worker".

Sorry. I love basic black as much as anybody in the Northeast Corridor, but I'm really not interested in emulating the 'black is the rejection of the world' deeply flawed theology which is behind many of my clerical sisters' and brothers' sense of fashion.

Mostly, on a good day, I just laugh. Other times, it makes my already hot Portuguese blood boil.

There's a new term for it, I'm told. Micro-oppression. It's sort of an oppressive-death-by-a-thousand-paper-cuts.

They build up and build up and build up and end up in things like the firing of Ruth Kolpack.

The battle for equality is far from over, my sisters and brothers.

It may well be time to join our sisters and brothers in Wisconsin and take our protest to the streets.

Or, at least to join in solidarity with our sister, Ruth Kolpack, who wrote a letter to Morlino in which she wrote, “My ministry is my life's work,” concluding by asking him to reconsider her dismissal.

Perhaps we should, too. You can write him here:

Diocese of Madison
Catholic Pastoral Center
702 South High Point Road
P.O. Box 44983
Madison, Wisconsin 53719

I have. Please join me.

Hello in there. Hello

I get these kinds of calls all the time. Usually from the local Funeral Home.

So, when I got the phone call the other day that a "long time member" of my congregation had been transferred to a local hospice with a request that I visit, I was pleasantly surprised.

"Long time member"? Sure. Never mind that I haven't seen the name or the name of any member of the family on any membership or pledge list in the going-on eight years I've been at St. Paul's.

And my wardens wonder why I tell them not to get too excited about the numbers on the Parochial Report.

Actually, I was just glad to be able to make a 'live' connection with someone before the inevitable telephone call comes from the Funeral Director.

I had no idea what I was walking into. Probably a good thing.

I'll call her Jane. She's 92. Macular degeneration has stolen most of her eyesight. The only way she can really hear is if you put your face inches from her ear and YELL. REAL LOUD.

Oh, and she has what is called "Senile Dementia."

When I first laid eyes on her, she was taking a little post-prandial snooze in her wheel chair. Her lunch tray was on a cart just outside her tiny but tidy room. I was pleased that the place smelled so good.

Her head was bent onto her chest, her snow white hair rebelling against a random black bobby pin, resolutely refusing to behave or conform to any particular style. I should have seen it as a sign. Her large hands were folded on her chest, a mass of ancient knuckles and knots.

I touched her hand gently and then said, loudly, I thought, "Hello, Jane."

Nothing.

Moving closer I said, louder still, "HELLO, JANE!"

Still nothing.

I hated doing it, but I move right close to her ear and yelled, "HELLO JANE!"

That did it. She looked up and yelled, "YES. I SAID I'M DONE WITH MY LUNCH."

This was clearly not going to be easy.

I leaned in again, yelling in her ear, "HI, JANE. MY NAME IS ELIZABETH."

"WHO?" she yelled back.

"MY NAME IS ELIZABETH. I'M THE PRIEST FROM ST. PAUL'S, CHATHAM."

A moment of confusion was washed away from her face by a beautiful smile.

"ST. PAUL'S?" she said, "THAT'S MY CHURCH."

"I KNOW," I yelled, "THAT'S WHY I'M HERE. I'M THE PRIEST. MY NAME IS ELIZABETH."

"ST PAUL'S", she yelled. "GREAT CHURCH. WHAT DO YOU DO THERE?"

"I'M THE PRIEST."

She looked confused, so I offered, "I'M THE MINISTER."

"AHHHHH . . ." she said in understanding. "WELL, THAT'S NICE."

"DO YOU REMEMBER WALTER BELL?" I asked, thinking that this particular predecessor, who had also predeceased us both, might have been the one to have been her minister.

"WHO?"

"WAAAALLLTER BEEEEELLLLLL."

"UMMMMM . . . . I DON'T THINK SO. WHO ARE YOU?"

"I'M ELIZABETH. I'M FROM ST. PAUL'S."

"OH, YES. I REMEMBER YOU. She smiled politely at no one in particular.

Then she asked me, "DO YOU REMEMBER WALTER BELL?"

This was to become the pattern. I would ask her if she remembered something. She wouldn't. She'd later circle back to the issue and then ask me if I remembered - as if she knew the information all along and was checking in on my memory.

It was a delightful little game which seemed to restore her sense of control in the conversation. I was happy to play along as she seemed to enjoy our exchanges, such as they were.

"HOW OLD ARE YOU?" she asked.

"WELL," I said coyly, "A LADY NEVER REALLY REVEALS HER AGE."

She snorted a laugh, "YEAH, WELL, YOU'LL GET OVER THAT PRETTY QUICK."

"SO, HOW OLD ARE YOU? I CAN'T REALLY TELL BY LOOKING AT YOU."

"WELL," I said, "LET'S JUST SAY THAT I'M NOT 92."

"HA!" she snorted, "I'M A LOT YOUNGER THAN YOU!"

I wasn't sure if she heard me say that I was 92 or if she was just confused.

"HOW SO?" I asked, "HOW OLD ARE YOU?"

"I'M 56!" she giggled in absolute delight, adding, "NINETY-TWO! DID YOU SAY NINETY-TWO? BOY OH BOY! YOU ARE REEEALLLLY OLD! WELL, YOU LOOK PRETTY GOOD TO ME FOR SUCH AN OLD COOT! BUT THEN AGAIN, MY EYES DON'T WORK THEY WAY THEY SHOULD."

Some of the nurses and personal care attendants began to gather outside the room, delighted to hear her engage in conversation. Well, there was really no avoiding it. I think the folks three miles down the road could hear every word we spoke.

We . . . "chatted" . . . like this for about 20 minutes or so. Some parts were very sad. She didn't remember her daughter with whom she had lived for the past 10 years and who, up until 2 weeks ago, had tenderly and lovingly cared for her until it became time for her to be admitted to hospice care.

"AH, YOU KNOW. CHILDREN THESE DAYS. THEY DON'T CARE FOR THEIR ELDERS THE WAY WE USED TO CARE FOR OUR PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS," she said sadly. "THEY JUST DUMP THEM INTO NURSING HOMES LIKE THIS AND LET THEM WASTE AWAY."

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. The nursing staff told me that her family visits her several times a week, bringing her favorite foods and flowers and cards - which were tacked on the wall behind her hospital bed.

She didn't recognize any of the grandchildren whose picture were lovingly displayed on the window sill by her bed. She didn't recognize pictures of herself at her birthday parties and surrounded by family at Christmas. At other times, she thought she was living at home with her parents.

"WHAT DID YOUR FATHER DO FOR A LIVING?" I asked.

She thought for a moment and then her face brightened with a memory, "HE COLLECTS STAMPS. STAMPS FROM ALLLLLL OVER THE WORLD. AND I HELP DADDY KEEP THEM IN A BOOK. YES, HE COLLECTS STAMPS AND I HELP HIM."

The memory clearly warmed her heart and her face actually blushed with pleasure. It was a delight to see her so happy in that wonderful moment of memory.

The nursing staff marveled at the way she was able to keep up her side of the conversation, such as it was. "She's really not engaged with anyone on the staff in the two weeks she's been here. She's got quite a great personality, hasn't she?" they marveled.

Indeed. Here are a few of the things she said. LOUDLY:

"AH, YOU KNOW, I CAN'T SEE VERY WELL, AND I CAN'T HEAR VERY WELL. BUT, AT LEAST I HAVE MEMORIES. WELL, WHEN I CAN REMEMBER THEM."

And:

"YOU KNOW, THEY SAY THAT A MIND IS A TERRIBLE THING TO WASTE. WELL, IT'S PRETTY TERRIBLE WHEN YOUR MIND GOES TO WASTE. IT'S AWFUL TO LOSE CONTROL OF YOUR MIND. ALTHOUGH, I MUST SAY, IT'S MUCH, MUCH WORSE TO LOSE CONTROL OF YOUR BOWELS AND BLADDER."

I giggled. She didn't. She was as serious as a heart attack.

The nurses were outside her room, falling all over themselves with laughter. Thank God she couldn't hear my giggles or their laughter.

And then a deep, bone-aching weariness seemed to overtake her. Our twenty-minute conversation-cum-yelling match had clearly exhausted her. She even looked a bit pale. I offered to have the nurses put her back to bed.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME? NO, I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED! I'VE GOT TO GET TO THE TRAIN STATION. DADDY WILL BE WAITING FOR ME."

"DADDY?" I asked.

"YES. HE COMES HOME ON THE 5:58 EVERY EVENING AND HE DOESN'T LIKE ME TO BE LATE."

"JANE," I yelled as tenderly as I could, "YOU DON'T HAVE TO PICK UP YOUR DADDY. YOU ARE IN A NURSING HOME NOW. REMEMBER? I'M ELIZABETH."

She looked at me, all ancient eyes wide with curiosity.

"FROM ST. PAUL'S, RIGHT? I REMEMBER."

"YES. I'M ELIZABETH FROM ST. PAUL'S IN CHATHAM."

"YES, I REMEMBER," she smile, "OF COURSE I REMEMBER. DO YOU REMEMBER . . . OH, WHAT WAS HIS NAME . . ."

"WALTER BELL?"

"YES! DO YOU REMEMBER WALTER BELL."

"NO, JANE. I'M AFRAID I DON"T"

"WELL," she said with great satisfaction, "I DO."

She asked me if I would come again tomorrow. I told her I would be back next week. No, she insisted, I had to come back tomorrow. I told her I would be back as soon as I could.

"GOOD," she said, "AND BRING YOUR PURSE. WE'LL GO INTO THE CITY FOR A DAY OF SHOPPING. I'LL EVEN BUY YOU LUNCH."

I offered to say a prayer with her before I left. "I'M GOING TO SAY THE LORD'S PRAYER. YOU CAN SAY IT WITH ME, IF YOU LIKE."

She kept up with every word. I don't know why, but I was amazed. And, humbled. I suddenly realized that the nursing staff who had gathered at the door way were holding hands and joining us in prayer.

As we continued, I was aware that there wasn't a dry eye in the house. Including mine.

You know, as often as I say that prayer in the course of my day, there are fewer times when I've said it with a greater sense of the presence of the Holy in our midst. There was no doubt in my mind that Jesus was there, hearing every word.

Of course, He could have been thousands of miles in outer space and still have heard us for all the yelling we were doing. No matter. Jesus hears the prayers of our hearts even before they get to our lips.

On my way home, I remembered that song Bette Middler did many years ago. "Hello in there. Hello." I found myself singing it softly to myself.

You know that old trees just grow stronger,
and old rivers grow wilder every day,
but old people, they just grow lonesome
waiting for someone to say,
"Hello in there. Hello"

I am rejoicing now, for "long time members" whose names don't appear on any membership or pledge list. Their names are written in the palm of God's hand.

All the deeds they have done for the church, or in the name of the church, are duly recorded, kept locked away, safe in the heart of Jesus.

All the hymns they have sung and all the devout prayers they have prayed have embedded themselves in the hard wood of the church and reverberate back to us in times of quiet meditation and prayer in that sanctuary.

I am blessed to know that I can at least look forward to a few more 20 minute visits with Jane, perhaps helping her to recover a few more memories that will bring a light to her hollow, empty eyes and a smile of delight to her ancient face.

And, when it comes time to commend her soul to God and send her home to Jesus, I'll be able to do so knowing that all the angels and archangels and all the company of heaven will rejoice that I know of what I speak.

If you click on the above link, it will take you to a YouTube video of the Divine Ms. M, performing "Hello in there. Hello." She begins with a little story about meeting an overweight woman in a blue housecoat, walking down 42nd Street, and, as a hat to protect her from the sun, a fried egg on her head.

Ms. Middler says, "You know, we all have fried eggs - some are on the outside and some are on the inside."

I'll let the Divine Ms. M have the last word.

So if you're walking down the street sometime
and you should spot some hollow ancient eyes,
don't you pass them by and stare
as if you didn't care.
Say, "Hello in there. Hello.

Sign Sen. Leahy's Petition for Truth and Reconciliation Commission

We have just emerged from a time when White House officials often acted as if they were above the law. President Obama wants to move forward rather than back, and does not seem willing to investigate those abuses of power.

Senator Patrick Leahy of Vermont has proposed the idea of a truth and reconciliation commission, not to seek vengeance, but to make sure it does not happen again.

Please take a moment to read Leahy's online petition here and then decide for yourself if you would like to sign on.

We already have over 86,000 signatures. Please consider joining us.

Here's the text in full:

I hereby join Senator Patrick Leahy's call for the establishment of a truth and reconciliation commission, to investigate the Bush-Cheney Administration's constitutional abuses so we make sure they never happen again. These abuses may include the use of torture, warrantless wiretapping, extraordinary rendition, and executive override of laws.

A truth and reconciliation commission should be tasked with seeking answers so that we can develop a shared understanding of the failures of the recent past. Rather than vengeance, we need a fair-minded pursuit of what actually happened. The best way to move forward is getting to the truth and finding out what happened -- so we can make sure it does not happen again.

Signed by:

[Your name]

Given last week's statement on HARDBALL from Bush spin doctor Ari Fleischer who is still - STILL! - pushing the myth that Saddam was behind 9/11, saying that the war in Iraq was necessary to stop him from hitting us 'again', it is clear to me that we need both Truth and Reconciliation.

Sign the petition today. It only takes a minute. Thank you.

The Consultation Platform for General Convention 2009

As national president of The Episcopal Women's Caucus, I have the distinct pleasure of being part of The Consultation.

We have just published our Platform for General Convention for 2009.

You can read the whole thing here, but I've posted the "preamble" just to arouse your curiosity.

The Consultation Platform 2009

The Consultation is a coalition of thirteen independent organizations in the Episcopal Church committed to peace with justice. We come to the 2009 General Convention in Anaheim understanding clearly that The Episcopal Church is at a watershed moment in history. Therefore, it is critical that we state the imperatives of what we believe and what we are called to do.


We affirm the goodness of all creation.

We join our voices with God who declared of all Creation “It is very good.”

We honor the image of God in one another and in all of Creation.

We are inextricably linked in an interdependent web of Creation.


We have sinned and fallen short of the mark.

We fail to recognize the image of God and the Christ in others and ourselves.

We contribute by our action and inaction to a culture of greed, domination and violence.

We in The Episcopal Church are complicit in this sin.


We reaffirm the promises of our Baptismal Covenant

to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers.

to persevere in resisting evil and, whenever we fall into sin, to repent and return to the Lord.

to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. `

to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves.

to strive for justice and peace among all people and to respect the dignity of every human being.

Therefore, we call The Episcopal Church, gathered at this 2009 General Convention, to:


Read the whole thing here: http://www.theconsultation.org/id1.html

Happy St. Paddy's Day

Padre Mickey's Refreshment Fund

It's a mad scheme by two priest for a fellow priest.

Padre Mickey is hoping to take a well-deserved sabbatical from his thriving Panamanian congregation. The hope is that we can raise some money so he and his lovely wife, Mona, can have a proper sabbatical.

You can read all the details over at MadPriest's Place.

Basically, here's the scheme:

"The Padre Mickey Restoration Appeal starts now and will end on the 3rd. April 2009.

Our first main aim is to raise $1000 so that Mickey and Mona can pay for somewhere to live while they are in the States.

Our second aim is to get them some spending money (for things like eating, going out, that sort of stuff).

Our third aim, if we achieve the first two, is to send some money to Mickey's church in Panama to help pay for some major restoration work that needs doing on their church hall."

You can contribute via PayPal by clicking on the "donate" button on the top of the column on your right.

If you prefer, you may send your checks (or cheques) or money orders, made out to The Episcopal Church of St. Paul and marked "City of God Appeal" to:

The Episcopal Church of St. Paul
200 Main Street
Chatham, NJ (USA) 07928

Thanks for your generosity and kindness. Let's give Padre Mickey and his lovely wife Mona a time of re-creation and refreshment.

God knows, no one deserves it more.

Except, perhaps, for Madpriest, but then again, Mimi will be there soon enough to take care of things.

A 12-Step Ecumenical Communion Service

I was recently asked for copies of an Ecumenical 12-Step Holy Eucharist I designed a few years ago. I thought perhaps folks in this neighborhood might like to have a look at it, too.

I wrote the Prayers of the People on my own, in my office, over a three hour period. I have to tell you that after praying the 12-Steps, I had completely ruined my clergy shirt with perspiration stains. I came away from that experience humbled and with deep respect for anyone who lives a life of Recovery, one day at a time.

You are most certainly free to use them. Proper attribution would be appreciated.

For the life of me, I can't remember where I got the Eucharistic Prayer, but I do remember that I did some tweaking of it.

Neither can I remember where I got either the Opening or Closing Prayers, and they are likewise "tweaked".

They will, no doubt, get the Reptillian-Brained Trolls on Viagra all excited (they DO love to hate the one they've come to call 'The Buddhist Bishop', don't they?), but I think it makes a good opening prayer for an Ecumenical setting where folk come from a variety of religious backgrounds.

And, quite frankly, some folk are more deeply committed to the spirituality of the 12 Step Program than they are to a particular religion (And not without good reason, in many cases. At least, in my experience, anyway.).

If anyone recognizes the source of any of these pieces and can identify them, please do, and I'll make proper attribution. The best liturgy is stolen liturgy, I always say.

A 12-Step Communion Service:
An Ecumenical Celebration for all those in Recovery,
their family and friends.

Call to Worship:

Leader: Come into the circle of love and justice
Come into the community of mercy, holiness and health
Come and you shall know peace and joy.

Leader: I light this candle for all those who have not yet found the path to recovery. May they be guided by the light of truth and hope.

People: Amen.

Opening Hymn (Day Is Done)

Opening Prayer

Leader: The journey to recovery brings us to a place where we come to believe that a Power greater than ourselves can restore us to wholeness of life. We call upon that Power by many names and in many ways.

Baruch ata Adonnai! (Hebrew)
People: We bless you for your steadfast and faithful love.

Leader: Gloria! (Christian)
People: We praise you for the gift of creation and all your creatures, great and small.

Leader: Kyrie eleison! (Orthodox)
People: We thank you for your boundless compassion, mercy and forgiveness.

Leader: Om! (Buddhist)
People: We echo the sound at the center of the universe which is everywhere, not the least place in the human heart.

Leader: Alleluia! (Judeo-Christian)
People: We praise you for love that survives anger and despair, which outlives sorrow and death.

Leader: Nam myo-ho renge Kyo! (Hindu)
People: We thank you for the calm which is the seed in the dark.

Leader: Salaam! (Islam)
People: We bless you for the peace which passes all human understanding, all human barriers, all human failings.

Leader: Ache! (Yoruba)
People: We praise you for the power which comes when we admit our powerlessness and for the strength which comes when we surrender.

Leader: Amen!
People: For endings that are beginnings, for beginnings that are endings.

Leader: Amen!
People: We are going on.

Leader: Amen!
People: Blessed be!

The First Lesson The Wisdom of Solomon

I am mortal, like everyone else, a descendant of the first formed child of the earth, and in the womb of a mother was I molded into flesh within a period of 10 months. While I was born I began to breathe the common air, and fell upon the kindred earth. My first sound was a cry, as is true of all. I was nursed with care in swaddling cloths; no kind has had a different beginning of existence. There is for all one entrance and one way out. Therefore I prayed, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.

The Prayer Attributed to St. Francis


The Contemporary Lesson Wild Geese (Mary Oliver)

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting, over and over announcing your place in the family of things.


Gospel Hymn Wonderful Words of Life


The Gospel Luke 11:9-13

“That’s why I tell you, keep asking and you’ll receive; keep looking and you’ll find; keep knocking and the door will be opened to you. For whoever asks, receives; whoever seeks, finds; whoever knocks, is admitted. What parent among you will give a snake to their child when the child asks for a fish, or a scorpion when the child asks for an egg? If you, with all your sins, know how to give your children good things, how much more will our heavenly Abba give the Holy Spirit to those who ask?

The Sermon

Prayers of People in Recovery
Adapted from the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc.

Leader: Step One: We admitted we were powerless over our addiction – that our lives had become unmanageable.

People: Holy God, we ask that you always disturb us with your truth, comfort us in our affliction, and unite us in your love.

Leader: Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

People: Help us remember that you are always with us, and open our ears to listen for your word as you express yourself in others.


Leader: Step Three: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God, as we understood God.

People: Sustain our desire to stop our addiction to food, alcohol, drugs, money, sex, gambling or any other addictions, which is the only requirement to begin our recovery.

Leader: Step Four: Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves (Silence is maintained for a period of time.)

People: Forgive us those things, known and unknown, done and left undone which have hurt others and ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.

Leader: Step Five: Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

People: We pray for our families, friends and neighbors, for all who are sick, friendless and needy, and for those who live alone. We ask for the courage to love and serve one another as you have loved and served us.


Leader: Step Six: Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character (Silence is maintained for a period of time.)

People: Strengthen us in the words of the Psalmist: The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not reject.

Leader: Step Seven: Humbly asked God to remove our shortcomings.

People: Have mercy on us, O God, according to your loving kindness; in your great compassion, blot out our offenses. Wash us through and through and keep us in your mercy and wholeness.

Leader: Step Eight: Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

People: Have compassion on those who suffer from any grief or trouble that they may be delivered from their distress. Give to the departed eternal rest, let light perpetual shine upon them.

Leader: Step Nine: Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

People: Give us grace to do your will in all that we undertake, that our works may find favor in your sight.

Leader: Step Ten: Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong, promptly admit it.

People: Lord, you are our shepherd, we shall not be in want; even though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear no evil, for you are with us, guiding our feet on the path which returns us to you.

Leader: Step Eleven: Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood God, praying only for knowledge of God’s will for us and the power to carry that out.

People: Day by day, dear Lord, of thee three things we pray: to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly, day by day.

Leader: Step Twelve: Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other addicts, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

People: God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can and the wisdom to know the difference.


Leader: Lord, you said to your apostles, “Peace I give to you, my own peace I leave with you:” regard not our sins, but the faith of your Church, and give to us the peace and unity of that heavenly City, where with God our Creator and the Holy Spirit, you live and reign, now and forever.
All: Amen!

The peace is shared, and the service continues
with the Offertory and Holy Eucharist.

An Ecumenical Eucharist in Celebration of Recovery

The Spirit of God be with you
And also with you


Lift your hearts to heaven
Where Christ in glory reigns


Let us give thanks to God
It is right to offer thanks and praise


It is right indeed to give you thanks most loving God,
through Jesus our Christ and our Redeemer,
With us always, one of us, yet from the heart of God.


For with your whole created universe
we praise you for your unfailing gift of life.
God’s love is shown to us: while we were yet sinners,
Christ died for us.


In that love, dear God, righteous and strong to save,
you came among us in Jesus our Christ, our crucified and living Lord.
You make all things new.


You pour out your Spirit on all. You empower us to know your truth
and fearlessly to proclaim your gospel among the nations.
Your love fires our hearts; and in your Spirit
we hunger and thirst for justice in the world.
Now is the acceptable time,
now is the day of salvation.


Therefore with saints and martyrs, apostles and prophets,
With all the redeemed, joyfully we praise you and say,
Holy, holy, holy! God of mercy, giver of life;
earth and sea and sky and all that lives
declare your presence and glory.
Hosanna in the highest!
Blessed is the One who comes in the Name of our God!
Hosanna in the highest!


Accept our praises, living God, for Jesus our Christ,
the one perfect offering for the world,
who in the night that he had supper with his friends,
took bread, gave thanks, broke it, gave it to his disciples and said:
+ Take, eat, this is my body which is given for you;
do this to remember me.


After supper he took the cup; and when he had given thanks,
He gave it to them and said:
+ Drink this, all of you. This is my blood of the new covenant
which is shed for you, and for many, to forgive sin;
do this to remember me.


Empower our celebration with your Holy Spirit,
+ breathe on these bodily gifts that they may be for us
the Body and Blood of Jesus, our Christ.
Feed us with your life, fire us with your love,
confront us with your justice, and make us one in the body of Christ
with all who share your gifts of love.


Therefore, God of all creation, in the suffering and death of Jesus,
our redeemer, we meet you in glory.
Amen! Come, Lord Jesus.


Here and now, with this bread and cup, we celebrate your great acts of liberation,
ever present and living in Jesus Christ, crucified and risen,
who was and is and is to come.
Amen! Come, Lord Jesus.


Through Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit,
with all who stand before you in earth and heaven
we worship you, Creator God, now and forever
Amen! Come, Lord Jesus.


And now, as our Savior Christ has taught us, let us join hands in solidarity and say . . .
“Abba, Our Mother, Our Father . . . Who art in heaven . . . . ..”

The FRACTION

An Invitation to Communion

May you love God so much that you love nothing else too much;
May you fear God enough that you need fear nothing else at all.
Come, all you who hunger and thirst for the living God.
Come to the table to eat and drink.


Communion Hymn: Amazing Grace



Closing Prayer

Let me be at peace within myself. Let me accept that I am profoundly loved and need never be afraid. Let me be aware of the Source of Being that is common to us all and to all living creatures. Let me be filled with the presence of the Great Compassion towards myself and towards all living beings. Let me always be an instrument of liberation and not oppression. Let me see the face of Jesus in others; let me be the face of Jesus for others. Let me be at peace within myself. Amen.

Haller's Anglican Maladies

In need of a little Monday morning pick-me-up?

Check out Tobias Stanislas Haller's post "Anglican Maladies" in his blog "In A Godward Direction."

Warning: Reading this post while drinking liquids or eating food may result in damage to your computer or laptop screen.

Not to worry. It's just Brother Tobias, being brilliant. Again.

Los cisnes: The Story of the Swans

There is a story in this week's NCR (National Catholic Reporter) by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of, among other books, "Women Who Run with the Wolves", entitled: "Fallen-away Catholics: The Story of the Swans."

You can read it all here.

The Story of the Swans is a beautiful tale, a modern parable of sorts, which Clarissa uses to talk about those Roman Catholics who have 'fallen away' or have been 'pushed away' or 'pushed out'.

She writes: "For most, the common denominators seem that they were flayed needlessly; or hounded sadistically as children; or else shunned for imperfect knowing; or shamed for finding their ways in a manner that was more of a mythic journey than the rote one laid out by mere mortals.

Or else only offered the food of ferrets when they, in fact, were swans needing the food of swans. Nothing wrong with ferret food for ferrets (meat), but ferret food for swans (grains and underwater grasses), makes the swans slowly die from starvation.

Most of all, many of the pushed away, by their telling of their own stories, came to rest, torn and bewildered, in a hollow. This occurred because for years, for decades, no one with wisdom and clear vision that they could understand without crippling themselves further, came to their rescue. These souls were not fallen from the nest, they were pushed."

I think it is a beautiful parable, one that we would do well to remember in the days and weeks and months before General Convention.

Will the shift to the progressive left be enough to have LGBT people return to the church? It's interesting to me that we worry and wail and gnash teeth about "the orthodox" who have left, but does ANYONE say ANYTHING about LGBT people who have left? If they have, I haven't heard it.

I know two really wonderful men who used to be leaders in TEC who are now members of MCC. Not that there's a thing in the world wrong with MCC. I just miss them terribly in TEC.

Indeed, what should be done about our conservative friends for whom TEC becomes 'too progressive'? How do we get them to return?

What is our response to the prayer of Jesus "that we all be one"?

Here's Clarissa's parable. Enjoy:

A story is not something we tell. A story is a living being that shows up in answer to our questions about the mysteries of life ... Often enough, a story comes forward on its own, having traveled a long distance to be with us, often hoping to remember us back into some layer of the mysterium, the parts that most nourish our souls ... and the souls of others.
-- cpe

In my Latino heritage, the following story is one spun together during a time with La señora Maria Elena, a member of my spirit family -- she, a muñecadora, a marionette maker, who lived in a fronterizo, border village near Nogales long ago.

As a young woman, the questions I had asked Maria Elena were these:

Why do we have deep in our souls such a longing to be reunited with our own ... whether in my case, a lost brother, siblings and parents ... or in the case of others ... a lost mother, a lost father, sister, grandparent, a lost child, a lost friend, lover, a lost soul?

Why do we yearn so hard to find the desaparecidos, the missing ones, on this earth? -- those who even if we have never met them -- we know they are 'out there' ... and they are so dear to us that we pray for them everyday ... not even knowing their names, not even knowing where they lay their heads? We know them because we know, that's all.

So together, as Maria Elena danced her "puppet-os" across the floor, we listened to a greater Soul, and out came this story.

"Los cisnes, The Swans..."

Once long ago, the swans, great gorgeous birds of soft plumage, were created in many colors. There were red swans, black swans, white swans, and blue swans.

The swans of all colors lived together, and chose their mates for life. They showed each other how to weave their nests with grasses and sedges, human hair, and sometimes red threads or blue threads they'd found along the way.

The elder swans showed the younger how to care for their children together; how to shelter and protect each other; how to fly out in wing-to-wing formations together; how to sing and sing to raise the sun at dawn and to bring the night at dusk.

Thus the swans were at peace for eons until one dark day when came a terrible tempest rolling across the land. Creator flew down to warn them: 'To be saved, all swans must, under great duress, fly to the four distant points of the world.'

Creator foretold that the tempest would reach all points of the earth and destroy much ... but for the swans, their being separated from one another -- rather than being together in one place -- would ensure the survival of more, rather than less, of God's great creature called Swan.

And so the swans, with their small bindle bags of underwater grasses, and their little children and lifelong mates, flew as refugees.

They rose into the air in a flurry, heart-frightened, leaving most everything behind, not knowing where they were going ... only knowing they were fleeing mayhem ... only knowing that as long as their feathers held out, they would fly through rain storms, lightning strikes, and over mountains ...

they would fly over the wires that kill, over the waters poisoned ... they would fly through hails of bullets, they would fly over wastelands with nowhere to land or rest ... they would fly and fly as far in every direction as possible ... to preserve that which Creator calls Swan.

It is said the red swans flew as far as they could to the west where, in the color of the setting sun, they would be given camouflage and refuge.

The black swans flew as far as they could to the north where, in the darkness of long winters, they would be camouflaged, and thereby be as safe from harm as possible.

The white swans flew to the south where they took refuge among the spinners and weavers of white cotton, and there they were camouflaged and kept as safe as could be.

And the blue swans flew as far as they could to the east where there was a great ocean. On this ocean, the swans could barely be seen so blue were the swans, so blue were the waters. And there they made their homes as safely as possible.

Yet in the swans' cross migrations to the South once a year -- the most dangerous of times, for their camouflages were not intact then -- the old swans of every color were ever seeking the swans descended from their first home place, which now numbered many generations.

And, finding so many, the old ones especially would tell the stories of their most immaculate place of origin before the mayhem had separated them.

And this joy of reunion belonged to all the swans, together; their souls were fastened together by that one incorruptible place of origin.

And how did they find one another after so long separated, for there are millions of birds in any sky? Before the tempest came, the swans could speak, just as you and I do. But when mayhem came over the land, Creator took pity on the swans and said, 'I will give into your hearts the one thing that will set your pace and save your lives and the lives of others forever.

Thus, Creator gave the swans but one cry. The original cry the swans trumpeted sounded like this...

¿Dónde está usted?

But, over time, to give them more breath to fly farther, and since all the swans knew the full cry by heart, Creator shorted the cry to one you can hear the swans cry today. They fly overhead, trumpeting, ¿Dónde? ¿Dónde? ¿Dónde?

Where are you?
Where are you?
Where are you?

¿Dónde?, this the Creator gave specifically ... not ¡Alto!, Stop right there!; not ¡Dejame solo!, Leave me alone ... but rather, ¿Dónde? ... the short version of Creator's long lesson about Love on earth.

¿Dónde? -- the only words Creator tenderly placed into the souls of the swans ... the cry granted so they would never, ever, completely lose one another.

" . . . making a whip of cords . . ."

Jesus Cleansing the Temple - Jeffrey Weston

III Lent – March 15, 2009 - John 2:13-22
The Episcopal Church of St. Paul, Chatham
(the Rev’d Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton, rector and pastor.

One of the most memorable sermons I have ever heard on this gospel passage was about 15 years ago, during a weekday Mass at a Roman Catholic Church in Rehoboth Beach. I try to get to one of the daily masses there whenever I’m on vacation, primarily because the preaching by any one of the five priests on staff is uniformly good.

The time came for the priest to read the gospel and then we all sat down for the homily. The priest paused for a moment, heavy in thought. Then he said, “Jesus is very, very angry.” He paused for another long, heavy moment and the said, “When Jesus is angry, I wouldn’t cross him.”

And then he sat down and held a long silence before he got up and continued the service. Two sentences and lots of silence. No wonder I remembered it, eh?

I must confess to you that I was very tempted, this morning, to do the same. You will be glad to note that I have resisted that temptation. – or, perhaps not. I am intrigued by this image of an angry Jesus and what it would take to cross him. (An interesting pun, right?)

What would it take to get Jesus angry enough to ‘make a whip of cords’ and let fly in the sacred temples of my life? Or, as author Annie Lamont puts it, to get him angry “ . . .enough to make Jesus drink gin straight out of the cat dish.”

Anger is always a secondary reaction. It is a common human expression which can range from minor irritations to flat our rage.

It is one of those human qualities that the world’s religious sages caution against. Anger ranks number 5 among Dante’s Seven Deadly Sins. (They are: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride).

The Bhagavad-Gita teaches: “Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed.”

Traditionally, Lent is a time for us to learn how to control our vices – although we usually focus our attention on gluttony, sloth or greed. Many of us love to talk about what we gave up for Lent and chocolates, laziness and ‘retail therapy’ are the easy targets.

But, what about anger? Is it something we should ‘give up’? Can we? Or, is it something, rather, that ought to be ‘managed’?

What makes you angry? What is it in your life that is important enough that, if someone crosses you, you would be angry enough to ‘make a whip of cords’ and let fly?

Many, many years ago, I was working with a Spiritual Director about something or other that was really making me angry. I wanted to get rid of that anger, because I didn’t like what it was doing to my soul. I asked my “Soul Friend” what could I do to be more serene, more peaceful.

Actually, I asked her what I could do so I would never be angry, ever again.

You probably won’t be surprised when I tell you her response. She burst out laughing. Right in my face. “You?” she laughed, “A woman with Mediterranean blood in your veins? No way!”

You also probably won’t be surprised when I tell you that her laughter made me angry. Not the flat out rage kind of angry, but let’s just say it was more than minor irritation.

As my face got redder, my mouth got tighter and my eyes became smaller, my Spiritual Director said, “Ah, is this it? You want to be able to completely stop THIS reaction? Why? Anger in this situation is absolutely appropriate. I laughed at you when you were being very serious.”

Now my face was red with embarrassment.

She looked me straight in the eye and right straight to my soul and said “If you try to stop a completely normal and, in this case, appropriate, response like anger, you could hurt yourself – or, unintentionally, someone else.”

“I want you to visualize your anger as a large stone,” she said. “Now, close your eyes and see it,” she continued, waiting for me to follow her instructions. “Now, imagine yourself picking it up. It will take some effort, but try it. It’s very important, because what you will find under your anger is something that is very important, something that matters to you very, very much.”

And then she said, “Work on THAT thing, whatever it is that is under that hard stone, and you will find a way to deal with your anger.”

I have never forgotten those very wise words which have helped me over the years in more ways than I can even remember or begin to articulate.

Some of us need to remember this story about the time Jesus got angry. Although I can’t prove it, I’m quite certain this was not the only time. It’s just the only story that got reported.

There are, however, many times Jesus got mildly irritated and even annoyed at his disciples. Some of his best parables were in response to his annoyance at something they said or something they didn’t – or couldn’t – understand.

If memory serves, Jesus also did his fair share of rebuking some of the apostles. I think that at least counts as “minor irritation”.

There’s a saying in my business, that “the thing is never the thing, it’s always something else.”

There is a story Betty Williams told me about a parishioner who left St. Paul’s years ago because his car got a scratch in the church parking lot while he was here at church. No way, you say? Yes way.

He was so angry, he never returned, she said, until his sons bore him in his casket into church.

Now, there are many reasons that people get angry and leave the church, and some of them are pretty silly and some are very legitimate, but you know that in this case, it had nothing to do with that scratch on his car door.

It had everything to do with his understanding about God and his expectations about how God and Jesus and the church worked.

If his car couldn’t be safe in the church parking lot, could anything be safe? How could he trust a community of faith when he couldn’t trust that his most prized possession couldn’t be left unharmed in the church parking lot?

Betty went on to describe him as a very sad man. No surprise there, really. Anger can be a very heavy stone, especially when it is carried around for many years. Years of anger can be a burden that makes the heart very sad. Indeed, it is the classic definition of the cause of depression.

Look under the stone of his anger, and trust was obviously a HUGE issue. One wonders about the stories of betrayal in his life – or of the ways in which he didn’t trust himself.

Look under the stone of Jesus’ anger and you find that integrity and intention are very, very important. “Stop making my father’s house a market place!” he thunders. And, apparently, rightly so.

The church is many things to many people, but it is more than a social club at prayer. If the church can’t be a sanctuary, a place where one can find solace and succor, as well as inspiration and challenge, a place to find the courage needed for spiritual transformation and a place from which to take the risk of your dreams, well, it ain’t much of a church now, is it?

As you examine your life in this Season of Lent, and you look at the elements of your own mortality, this morning’s gospel lesson might be a good time for you to take a look at your own anger.

Instead of trying to get rid of it or ‘manage it’ or medicate it or try to change yourself to conform to some idealized expectation of yourself, or someone else to conform to your expectations, ask yourself to look under the stone that has knotted itself up in the middle of your body. What is it, under there, hidden beneath that heavy stone you’ve been carrying around that you care so passionately about?

Ask yourself if you might not need – at least once in your carefully constructed, life – to allow yourself the luxury of getting angry. Turn over a few tables. Shake things up a bit. Punch a pillow. Yell back at the ocean’s roar. Get out on the tennis or racket ball court and picture the thing or the person or situation that is making you angry and give it a good WHACK.

Consider if it might not, in fact, be healthy to make a whip of the cords that have tied you to your Stone of Anger and let it fly.

You know. Like Jesus did in the Temple.

Perhaps, once that’s out of your system, you can then find the energy to lift up the Stone of Anger in your life and finding out what’s important to you. What you’re really passionate about.

Find your passion, and you might just be able to find your bliss, and if you follow your bliss, your anger will be transformed into the energy you need to do what your heart desires.

Find your passion, and you might be able to move more deeply into the baptismal waters of your faith, taking a risk for the sake of the gospel.

Find your passion, and you may be able to more deeply understand the passion of Jesus – who was so passionate about the human enterprise and the holiness of our relationship with God and each other, that he was willing to live and suffer and die for it.

Amen.

SRO last night at St. Paul's

What an amazing evening!

It was SRO = Standing Room Only.

The performers told us stories and sang beautiful music and women danced graceful, fluid dances as they sang.

I had to pinch myself to remind myself that I was in the Northeast Corridor of God's Realm and not thousands of miles away in Hawai'i.

A GRAND time was had by all. Wish you had been there.

An appeal for Integrity

Send your contributions to Integrity today:

Integrity USA - Anaheim Appeal
274 Goodman Street #B267
Rochester, NY 14607
800 462 9498

Or click on: http://www.integrityusa.org/donate

PS: Congratulations to editors Louise Brooks and Vic Vinson for a GREAT job. And, Brava, Susan Russell, who should seriously run for office where her gifts and graces will be more appreciated than in the church (but ain't we glad we got her!)

St. Paddy's Tea Party

Last Sunday we took Mackie and Abby to a St. Paddy's Tea Party.

It was more fun than a barrel of leprechauns.

Tea and Irish Soda Bread were served, along with Shamrock Cookies and Wee Cupcakes all decorated with green, white and orange icing. The servers were the Wee Irish Line Dancers who also performed brilliantly for us.

Ms. Mackie made a new friend. This is Ms. Kennedy - her first name - enjoying the treats and festivities. We also made crafts and had a Treasure Hunt for a Pot 'o Gold hidden by the Leprechauns.

Ms. Kennedy and Ms. Abby were invited to try their legs at Irish Line Dancing. Ms. Kennedy was game, but Ms. Abby decided to stand and watch. She stood right there. Didn't move. In fact, the Wee Irish Dancers had to move up closer to the mirror in order to accommodate her.

You don't ever want to get her 'Irish' up.

Later, however, in the safety and security of our living room, she danced like a very gazelle. Waaaaayyyy cute.

Ah, and you know, any day is a great day to be Irish - even if you're not.

The word is out

The Rt. Rev’d Marc Andrus, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of California, has announced that the Rt. Rev’d Peter Lee, retired bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia, will become the interim dean of Grace Cathedral effective upon his retirement as Diocesan in Virginia on October 1, 2009. Bishop Lee, who is 70, will serve for approximately one year.

My dear friend, John Kirkley, rector of The Episcopal Church of St. John the Evangelist, San Francisco, has written about it in his usual intelligent and articulate way in his blog, Meditatio.

He writes, in part, “. . . Bishop Lee's selection is something of a disappointment to me. I'm unsure about his capacity to play an iconic role that is reflective of the reality and needs of the Diocese of California. During his tenure as bishop of Virginia, his official policy has been to refuse to authorize the blessing of same-sex unions and to ordain only those gay and lesbian people who agree to remain celibate. He has championed "Windsor compliance" in his diocese. He has not been a dependable ally or advocate for the full inclusion of gay and lesbian people in the life of the church.”

I’m fascinated that not one of our worthy adversaries on the Right (some of whom are in the Diocese of VA) has picked up on the story.

Then again, they are still all atwitter and agog about the election of the so-called, “Buddhist Bishop” in Northern Michigan.

Sigh. It’s so embarrassing, isn’t it?

It’s an interesting move by Bishop Marc, an outspoken, bold advocate and activist for sacramental inclusion of LGBT people in the church, civil rights for LGBT people in this country, and human rights for LGBT people in the world.

To my mind, this is much like President Obama’s invitation to Rick Warren to give the Inaugural Invocation. Now, Marc Andrus would be the first to say that he ain’t no Barack Obama and Peter Lee is hardly Rick Warren, but as John points out, neither is the good bishop of Virginia a dependable ally for LGBT people in the life of the church.

So, why would someone like Marc Andrus invite someone like Peter Lee to be interim dean of a Cathedral like Grace in San Francisco?

I’ve been wondering what the Early Christians in Ancient Jerusalem must have said when they discovered that the one they knew as Saul who had persecuted them was now Paul and claiming to be one of them.

It is not recorded, but I’ll bet the grumblings in Jerusalem were loud and persistent and angry enough to be heard from Rome to Alexandria. Perhaps that’s why it took Paul so long – was it two or three years? – to finally get to Jerusalem.

It is seven months between now and Bishop Lee’s retirement and start date as Interim Dean of Grace Cathedral. General Convention is in July, just about the mid point of his exodus from Virginia to California.

It will be interesting to see how the good Bishop votes on critical issues like repeal of B033 and the flurry of resolutions on the Prayer Book Revision of the Rite of Marriage or calls for a Liturgy of Blessing for the Covenant between two people of the same sex. Or what he might have to say about ‘Windsor Compliance’ or the ‘Anglican Covenant’.

I don't expect this zebra to change his outward and visible stripes, necessarily. One of the geniuses of the Spirit of Classical Anglicanism is the ability to hold two opposing thoughts in tension. Until just recently, we have also been able to hold two opposing bishops in tension. At the same time. In the same diocese.

I just wonder if Bishop Lee will "bloom where he is planted" in the rich progressive and liberal soil of SanFran.

I have no doubt that the LGBT folk in the Diocese of California will welcome Bishop Lee into their midst with genuine warmth and grace. I trust Bishop Lee will be equally warm and gracious unto them.

The question is: What will he do after he says, “Hello”?

You can be sure of one thing: Christians on the left, middle and right of theology and church politics will be watching closely.

The Many Faces of Greed

There's a story in this morning's NY Times about Bernard Madoff, the Wall Street founder of Bernard L. Madoff Investment Securities who developed a 'Ponzi scheme' which left his clients - many of them prestigious Charities - virtually penniless.

The Times reporter, along with other journalists, waited outside the NYC Courthouse where Madoff was expected to plead guilty to 11 felony counts of fraud. There was blood on the water. The news sharks could smell it as easily as the now scammed investors had once smelled the opportunity to make even more money.

Greed, apparently, has a particular odor, no matter what form it takes.

Here's the line that caught my attention: "By 7 a.m., a bustling line was indeed crowding Worth Street outside the courthouse, but it consisted mostly of bleary-eyed journalists hoping to identify, from a telltale cashmere scarf or well-preserved camel hair coat, a Madoff investor who might talk."

I suspect the journalist was oblivious to the irony in her own writing. There she was, at the crack of dawn, waiting amidst 'telltale cashmere scarfs or well-preserved camel hair coats' to catch a juicy story which would ensure that her paper would sell papers and she would earn her salary.

Newspapers that we buy, in part, because of our seemingly insatiable appetites to read stories with this kind of angle. I mean, it's the NY Times. The prestigious 'Old Gray Lady'. Not the NY Daily Post or the Inquirer or The Star. Apparently, the smell of blood on the water is particularly irresistible - no matter your education or class status.

It's a little like the pot calling the kettle beige, as it were, isn't it?

I'm sorry, but, with the exception of the Charities, I'm having a very hard time feeling sympathy for many of the investors who lost money in Madoff's Ponzi Scheme.

I'm told by those who know that there were long waiting lists of people trying to become members of the Country Club where Madoff was a member, just for the hope of perhaps running into him on the golf course or sipping wine at the Club House, to get in good with him and maybe, just maybe, get him to take them as his client.

Now, I don't have to tell you how much money you need to have to support a lifestyle that includes membership in an exclusive Country Club. Most of the readers in this neighborhood will never see the kind of money that involves that membership fee, much less the lifestyle that is part of the package deal.

And yet, the "Cashmere Scarf Set" saw an opportunity to make more, and worked hard just to get the chance to have at it.

No wonder many of them didn't show up at the sentencing hearing. Yeah, maybe they had had enough. And maybe, just maybe, they were embarrassed to show their faces.

Maybe, finally, it was too difficult to see the reflection of their own greed in the face of Bernard L. Madoff.

Madoff pleaded guilty to all the federal charges filed against him -- 11 felony counts, including securities fraud, money laundering and perjury, a list that could yield a prison sentence of 150 years. Madoff is 70 years old.

After the plea, Judge Denny Chin revoked the disgraced financier's bail, and Mr. Madoff was handcuffed and led off to jail.

The Bhagavad Gita teaches: “Hell has three gates: lust, anger, and greed”

Bernie may have a layover in prison before he enters the gates of hell, but I have a feeling he'll be so busy shaking hands with so many of his friends that he won't even notice he's burning.

Gettin' ready for the 'Wearin' o' the Green'

Six retired Irishmen were playing poker in O'Leary 's apartment when Paddy Murphy loses $500 on a single hand, clutches his chest, and drops dead at the table. Showing respect for their fallen brother, the other five continue playing standing up.

Michael O'Conner looks around and asks, 'Oh, me boys, someone got's to tell Paddy's wife. Who will it be?'

They draw straws. Paul Gallagher picks the short one. They tell him to be discreet, be gentle, don't make a bad situation any worse.

'Discreet??? I'm the most discreet Irishmen you'll ever meet.

Discretion is me middle name. Leave it to me.'

Gallagher goes over to Murphy's house and knocks on the door. Mrs. Murphy answers, and asks what he wants. Gallagher declares, 'Your husband just lost $500, and is afraid to come home.'

'Tell him to drop dead!', says Murphy's wife.

'I'll go tell him.' says Gallagher.

***********************************************************
Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut, and bruised, and he's walking with a limp.

'What happened to you?' asks Sean , the bartender.' Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight,' says Paddy.

'That little O'Conner ,' says Sean , 'He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.'

'That he did,' says Paddy, 'a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it.'

'Well,' says Sean , 'you should have defended yourself. Didn't you have something in your hand?'

That I did,' said Paddy, ' Mrs. O'Conner 's breast, and a thing of beauty it was; but useless in a fight.'

************************************************************
An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his car is weaving violently all over the road.

A cop pulls him over. 'So,' says the cop to the driver, 'where have ya been?'
'Why, I've been to the pub of course,' slurs the drunk.

'Well,' says the cop, 'it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening.'
'I did all right,' the drunk says with a smile.

'Did you know,' says the cop, standing straight, and folding his arms across his chest, 'that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?'

'Oh, thank heavens,' sighs the drunk. 'fo r a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf.'

**********************************************************
Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door.

' Brenda , may I come in?' he asks. 'I've somethin' to tell ya'.

'Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim . But where's my husband?'

'That's what I'm here to be telling ya, Brenda . There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery'

'Oh, God no!' cries Brenda . 'Please don't tell me.'

'I must, Brenda . Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry."

Finally, she looked up at Tim . 'How did it happen, Tim ?'

'It was terrible, Brenda .. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout , and drowned.'

'Oh my dear Jesus ! But you must tell me true, Tim , did he at least go quickly?'

'Well, Brenda , no. In fact, he got out three times to pee.'

**************************************************************
Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears.

He says, 'So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?'

She says, 'Oh, Father, I've got terrible news... My husband passed away last night.'

The priest says, 'Oh, Mary , that's terrible. Tell me, Mary , did he have any last requests?'

She says, 'That he did, Father.'

The priest says, 'What did he ask, Mary ?'

'She says, 'He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun..'

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

AND THE BEST FOR LAST

A drunk staggers into a Catholic Church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but says nothing.

The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention, but the drunk continues to sit there.

Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall.

The drunk mumbles, 'Ain't no use knockin, there's no paper on this side either.'

(Hat tip to that mischievous leprechaun, Doug.)

No wonder there's a 'shift'

Yesterday, I posted a little something about the result of the latest ARIS findings about religion in America.

The media reporting the ARIS findings were especially apoplectic about two things - the geographic shift of the numbers of Roman Catholics from the Northeast to the Southwest, and the .8% increase in the number of "Nones" - those who, when asked for a religious affiliation, listed "none."

The problem with the ARIS findings is that there is no analysis, no way to understand why there is a shift here or a decline or increase there.

Except, of course, there is.

Here's one piece of evidence sent to me by a parishioner. It's right out of the Catechism of the Catholic Church - 2nd Edition. It's provided for us online by the good Knights of Columbus.

Chastity and homosexuality

2357 Homosexuality refers to relations between men or between women who experience an exclusive or predominant sexual attraction toward persons of the same sex. It has taken a great variety of forms through the centuries and in different cultures. Its psychological genesis remains largely unexplained. Basing itself on Sacred Scripture, which presents homosexual acts as acts of grave depravity,141 tradition has always declared that "homosexual acts are intrinsically disordered."142 They are contrary to the natural law. They close the sexual act to the gift of life. They do not proceed from a genuine affective and sexual complementarity. Under no circumstances can they be approved.

2358 The number of men and women who have deep-seated homosexual tendencies is not negligible. This inclination, which is objectively disordered, constitutes for most of them a trial. They must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided. These persons are called to fulfill God's will in their lives and, if they are Christians, to unite to the sacrifice of the Lord's Cross the difficulties they may encounter from their condition.

2359 Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery that teach them inner freedom, at times by the support of disinterested friendship, by prayer and sacramental grace, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.

The arrogance simply takes my breath away.

Here's my question: Is any one surprised. Really?

I mean, how bad does it have to get, exactly, before someone 'shifts' - geographically or to the column marked "None."

Wait. I think I know.

THIS bad.

With sincere apologies to and admiration for all my RC friends (waves at Fran) who are deeply committed to changing the institution from within - or, at least, blooming where they are planted.

Ultimate Questions

The Internet and news media have been all abuzz with the latest findings by the American Religious Identification Survey which reveals that more and more Americans claim no religious affiliation and that fewer Americans call themselves Christian than a generation ago. It is the third such survey conducted by ARIS.

The headline of their report reads: "Catholics on the Move, Non-religious on the Rise." Reportedly, more Roman Catholics are moving from the Northeast to the Southwest, while secularity continues to grow in strength in all parts of the country.

Here's what it says, in part: "The percentage of Americans claiming no religion, which jumped from 8.2 in 1990 to 14.2 in 2001, has now increased to 15 percent. Given the estimated growth of the American adult population since the last census from 207 million to 228 million, that reflects an additional 4.7 million "Nones." Northern New England has now taken over from the Pacific Northwest as the least religious section of the country, with Vermont, at 34 percent "Nones," leading all other states by a full 9 points."

Well, first of all, a 6.2% jump in 11 years is pretty significant, but a .8% increase in eight years, while cause for some concern, is hardly worth a screaming headline.

The frustrating thing about the report is that it is only a survey. There is no analysis of the data, no indication, much less hints or guesses, as to why this may be so.

I suspect there are many reasons, but one among them is the failure of churches to deal with the Ultimate Questions in life - at least, with honesty and relevancy and hope.

One of the literary giants of our time, John Updike (who died a few weeks ago at the age of 76), once said that, as he sat in a church pew on Sunday mornings, he admired and was interested in clergy because week after week they try to help people deal with ultimate questions.

Well, if we're smart, we don't just do it on Sunday mornings.

Last night, we watched the second in our Lenten series of NOOMA videos. I've written about this series before (you can read it here) and Rob Bell, the founder of Mars Hills Bible Church in Michigan, who wrote and is featured in this series.

Last night we watched "TREES". In this 10 minute DVD, Rob plants two tress while talking about how the Bible begins in the Garden and ends in the garden. And, in the middle of both gardens is a tree.

He says that our lives stand between the two trees of God's reality - the God of our antiquity and the God of our future - and that God stands with us in our present.

As he pulls a ready-to-plant tree from the back of his trunk, he wonders aloud something like, "There is evidence of God's fingerprints all over our world - or, maybe they're our fingerprints in God's world."

WELL! That's really all our group needed to talk about Updike's "ultimate questions."

Questions like: What is God's will for us? How do we know when we are doing it?

And: Is it simply a matter of following The Golden Rule or The 10 Commandments? Is the Bible a 'rule book' or a 'guide book'? Are we to simply sit in church and nod our heads at the correct words and bow our heads at the right moment and then go home?

And: Why are we here? Are we just to hang around, waiting and 'hoping against hope' and praying, until we get to heaven? What is the purpose of our lives? What provides meaning in our lives?

And: Is God locked safely away in between the dusty pages of a bible, or is God somewhere 'out there' or 'up there' in heaven - wherever that is? Or, is God here, now, in the midst of our pondering and wondering, our struggle and our strife?

And: What is eternity? What is eternal life? What is resurrection and how is it different from reincarnation?

We even talked about The First Law of Thermodynamics ("Matter/Energy can neither be created nor destroyed") and Einstein Theory of Relativity (E=mc2). And, we wondered, what might these scientific theories teach us about the theology of resurrection?

Which led us to talk about living from a position of scarcity or abundance and the nature of our relationship with God.

It was absolutely fascinating. I came home 'jazzed' and, even though it had been a long, somewhat difficult day, which included a visit to a parishioner who is on a locked ward in a psychiatric facility about an hour's drive away, I was unable to fall asleep easily.

These Ultimate Questions took up a great deal of space in my head, and they simply wouldn't stop bumping into one another like electrons on crack.

Updike had a great gift in being able to apply his writing and observational skills to the most mundane of subjects - like, the joys of walking in the late autumn sun. I fell asleep with these words of Updike in my head:

"Why do we love them, these last days of something like summer, of freedom to move in few clothes, though frost has flattened the morning grass? They tell us we shall live forever. Stretched like a rainbow across day's end, my shadow makes a path for my feet; I am my path."

Lent is a wonderful time to delve even deeper into the Ultimate Questions. You know, I don't think the rest of life would be worth much without them.

Come to think of it, organized religion in general and church in particular, are, neither one, worth much of anything unless they help people to more deeply engage the Ultimate Questions of life - their life - our lives of faith.

Oh, yes. I should mention this in closing.

The DVD ends with a shot of this run down neighborhood, somewhere in some city in Michigan. A chain link fence protects an empty lot, overgrown with a stubble of dead grass and litter. In the distance, you can see the outline of a city.

The two trees stand there, on the sidewalk, as people walk by the newly planted life in their midst, seemingly oblivious to their beauty. Oh, yes they may not know it, but an illegal act has just taken place. We've been watching it all along.

The notes on the DVD report that it is illegal to plant trees without the permission of the municipal government. In fact, heavy fines may be imposed if the 'planter' is caught.

While the ARIS report was interesting, I have far more interesting questions:

What did you do with your one life today? What risk did you take to make this world a better place than it was before you got here? What are you doing with your relationship with God in Christ Jesus, to give honor and glory to what was, what is now, and what will be?

If your church isn't challenging or helping you with these questions (not necessarily providing the answers, but leading you to questions that help you find answers that work for you), put on your big people pants, pull up your socks, wipe your nose, dry your eyes, and demand that it does.

Or, find one that will.

The ARIS report didn't say this, but I will:

This world is often too broken and hurting a place, and life is too short and too precious a gift to waste on mediocrity.