Mary and Elizabeth

Mary and Elizabeth

At noon today, I'm doing my part in a four-part series called "The Journey", based on the book and video teaching series by Adam Hamilton.

It's actually pretty basic, but very good information for "general church audiences" which goes into the geography as well as the cultural and political climate of Israel at the time of the Nativity. Mostly, it helps people get "inside" the story and identify with the characters: Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth and the ancient and modern towns of Nazareth, Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

The "Leader's Guide" is really quite good in some places, but really falls short in the segment on Mary's visitation to her cousin Elizabeth. So, I've done my thing and tinkered around and created some of my own exercises.

I want to share one with you one of the exercises we'll be doing.

I've always been intrigued by the work of Virgilio Elizondo in his book, "The Galilean Journey". One of the things he mentions is that Galilee was pretty much a backwater place. People there were unsophisticated and spoke a form of Hebrew that was considered "inferior".

Indeed, Elizondo says that Galileans were not allowed to read scripture in the temple in Jerusalem because their accents were considered to be a distraction to a pure devotion to Torah.

I imagine it might be rather like listening to Forrest Gump at the lectern on Sunday morning.

So, I've been playing with this idea in terms of the Magnificat. When we hear it, we - okay, I - immediately think of it in the King James Version in Rite One of the Book of Common Prayer:

"My soul doth magnify the Lord,
     and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior,
For he hath regarded
     the lowliness of his handmaiden
For behold from henceforth
     all generations shall call me blessed......"

Lovely. Pure poetry, eh?  And, when sung in grand Anglican chant, it's. . . well . . . . magnificent, right?

But, if Galileans were backwater folk, I'm thinking Mary didn't use the 'King's Hebrew', much less chant it in Latin like they do in Great Basilicas or sing the more modern John Rutter version.

So, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that I'm going to have a dramatic reading of three Very Different versions of Luke 1:42-55. I'm going to ask three readers - a Narrator, Mary and Elizabeth - each to read their parts and put as much drama and energy into it as they can.

The first will be from the King James Version of that pericope of Holy Scripture.

Then, I'm going to ask them to do the reading again, but this time from Eugene Peterson's translation known as "The Message". His version of the Magnificat is this:

I'm bursting with God-news;
     I'm dancing the song of my Savior God.
God took one good look at me, and look what happened—
     I'm the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
     the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others.

His mercy flows in wave after wave
     on those who are in awe before him.
He bared his arm and showed his strength,
     scattered the bluffing braggarts.
He knocked tyrants off their high horses,
     pulled victims out of the mud.
The starving poor sat down to a banquet;
     the callous rich were left out in the cold.
He embraced his chosen child, Israel;
     he remembered and piled on the mercies, piled them high.
It's exactly what he promised,
     beginning with Abraham and right up to now.

"Dancing the song of my savior God". "His mercy flows in wave after wave on those who are in awe before him." "He knocked tyrants off their high horses, pulled victims out of the mud."

Yeppa. I think we're moving closer to Real, here.

The third time we do it, however, we're going to do it in a translation that may be closer to how the folks in Jerusalem heard this uneducated, illiterate, pregnant-out-of-wedlock-shot-gun-married girl from the backwaters of Galilee might have said it.

I'm thinking they heard her the way a sophisticated someone from Midtown Manhattan hears someone from Brooklyn or da Bronx or Queens, ya know?  Or, a cultured citizen of UK hears a Yank. Or someone from tony LA hears someone from the backwoods of Kentucky.

So, a bit of context for this next one.

On one of my trips to Hawai'i, I had the privilege of sitting in on a bible study. The folks there were "ohana" - they were "native". And they spoke Pidgin English. A new translation of the bible had just been produced by the guys at Wycliffe and it is, lo and behold, in Pidgin English - which is what many of the 'ohana' speak there.

It's called," Da Jesus Book".  I'm delighted to see that it's still available in print, but I must admit that I'm outraged by the price.

My copy was given to me as a gift. I don't believe it cost that much when it was first published.

Can you say, "exploiting the poor"?

So, here's the Magnificat in Pidgin English. Mind you, this is not a joke. This is authentic. This is how some of the folk ("Plenty peopo") speak.

My heart say good tings bout dat Boss Up Dea
          Inside Da Sky,
My spirit stay good inside
     Cuz God take me outa da bad kine stuff I stay in,
     Cuz he wen tink bout me, his poor worka!
From now on all da peopo goin say
     God wen do plenny good stuffs fo me,
Cuz God get power
     An wen do plenny importan tings fo me.
He stay spesho and good, dass wat kine God him.
He give da peopo chance dat show respeck for him,
     From da grandfaddas to da kids.
He stay show his power
     And stay make da peopo wit big head so dey no
          can do
     All da stuff dey like do.
He stay put down plenny big kings from dea
          thrones,
     And he stay make da peopo dat mo notting
          importan.
He stay give da hungry peopo good stuff fo eat,
     An he stay send away da rich guys wit notting.
He stay help da Israel peopo dat work fo him.
     He no forget fo give dem chance,
Jalike he wen tell our ancesta guys,
     Abraham, and his ohana, foeva."

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Nah, Mary could never have sounded like THAT!". Well, you're probably right. But, she probably didn't sound like the Hebrew version of the King's English, either. She probably also didn't have a voice like a very angel or even the French Nuns who sang "Dominique"

Besides, that's not what I'm saying.

What I AM saying is that, given what we know about the Hebrew spoken outside of Jerusalem, Mary's Hebrew may have sounded to the ears of those in Jerusalem the way Pidgin English sounds to our ears.

Begins to make a difference, doesn't it, about how you think about Mary and just how revolutionary her words were.  I love the line, "Cuz God got me outta da bad kine stuff I stay in."

I especially love "He give da peopo chance dat show respeck for him", and "He no forget fo give dem chance".

Chance. He give da peopo chance. God gives to the people who show respect for God a chance. God does not forget to give the people of Israel who work for God a chance.

Opportunity. Choice. These are worth more than fine gold for people who are so poor they don't even have any options. They can't even dream of an opportunity. And, God gives to them a chance.

Isn't that simply wonderful theology? I can totally hear Mary saying something like that, can't you?

I'm also thinking that Mary sang her song around the house when Jesus was growing up, just the way she heard her mother, Anna, singing the song of Hannah around the house when Mary was a child.

As you consider that, can you hear in the Sermon on the Mount - indeed, in most everything that came out of the mouth of Jesus - the influence these two women had on the ministry of Jesus?

I can. Jesus was clearly the son of God, but he's also Mary's kid. No doubt in my mind.

As you consider the story of The Visitation of Mary and Elizabeth, I'll leave you with these questions which I will be presenting to the group.

I hope they help deepen your sense of expectation and anticipation as we draw nearer to the Manger.

1. What do you make of the fact that Mary, a “young maiden”, made a 10-mile trip, supposedly alone and on foot, to see her cousin Elizabeth in the hill country outside Jerusalem?  Do you find that odd, even for those ancient times? Why do you suppose Mary would have done such a risky thing? Was she anxious? Afraid? Ashamed? All of the above?

2. It is Elizabeth who recognizes the uniqueness of the child Mary is carrying and it is the child in Elizabeth’s womb who leaps for joy. This leads Elizabeth to hail Mary as blessed over and over again. Do you think Mary grasped the significance of all this? Was Mary so overwhelmed that she was clinging to the words of the angel’s message? Or, did those words fade in significance somewhat as Mary began to realize the consequences of being pregnant and unmarried?

3. Clearly, Mary cared for Elizabeth in her last trimester and Elizabeth mentored Mary in her first trimester. Did Mary go to Elizabeth expecting to be mentored, or do you suppose the mentoring relationship simply emerge?  Have you had any mentors in your life? Who were they and when did they offer the most help? Have you mentored a younger person? What was that like for you and for the person you mentored?

4. In both translations we read, Elizabeth called Mary blessed several times, but Mary probably did not feel very blessed, at least blessed in the traditional sense of great good fortune. What do you think Elizabeth meant when she called Mary ‘blessed’? What does being blessed by God mean to us today? In what ways do you feel blessed today?

5. How would you define joy? How is joy different from happiness? Have you ever experienced joy and at the same time felt unhappy or scared? Have you ever felt joyful but not happy? Have you ever felt joyful in difficult or even painful circumstances? What does it mean to ‘magnify the Lord’?

6. The Magnificat emphasizes how God has lifted the lowly and filled the hungry with good things. What does that mean for you? How do you try to live this out in your life? What are the lowly and hungry places in your life? Write down three things you can do, in these last weeks of Advent, to tend to your own spiritual hunger. Write down three things you can do, while you wait expectantly for the coming of the Messiah, to ‘lift the lowly and fill them with good things’.

Closing Prayer (from Isaiah, Chapter 58)

Lord God, you have called us,

each of us,

to loose the bonds of injustice,

to let the oppressed go free,

and to break every yoke.

You have called us to share our bread with the hungry,

to bring the homeless poor into our houses,

and to cover the naked.

Almighty God, in the words of Mary’s Magnificat,

may we magnify the Lord who calls us to do these things,

and may we do them joyfully and thankfully.

We pray this prayer in the name of Christ Jesus.

Amen.

DO NOT buy Milo's Kitchen Chicken Jerky

You've heard the expression "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned".

Prepare for a fiery blast.

First up, you need to know that when someone - anyone - hurts someone or something I love, I go into "Mama Bear" mode. I'm instinctively protective.

When someone - anyone - treats me with platitudes about the harm done....well...see "hell" and "fury" and "woman scorned" above.

It started off with my wanting to do something 'special' for my wonderful dog, Theo. A neighbor had made some chicken and beef jerky for her dog in her own kitchen and gave a piece of chicken jerky to Theo. He loved it. LOVED. It. Gobbled it down in the small pieces I had broken off to give him.

So, the next time I was at the market, I bought some for him. Not just any brand. The top shelf stuff. Milo's Kitchen "home style" brand. He has eaten their beef jerky without difficulty. So, I thought, well, why not try the chicken jerky?

I admit. I didn't look at the label. I knew it was made by Del Monte - a trusted name in vegetables and other canned goods, some under the "Contadina" label. Indeed, they also make "9-Lives" Cat Food, "Meow Mix", "Gravy Train" dog food as well as "Nature Recipe".

I didn't notice that the package of chicken jerky said that it was "Made in China".

Apparently, the chicken jerky is the only one of the dog treats made by Del Monte which is actually made in China.

I fed him a small piece in the late morning and another small piece in the late afternoon. I still had half of a piece left for the next day - as well as the entire rest of the package.

The next morning, Theo became violently ill. Retching. Diarrhea. Lethargic. No appetite. Didn't even want to drink water. He was one sick pup.

When I called the Vet, the first thing she asked was if there had been anything I had fed him that was different. Yes, I said. I gave him some chicken jerky. Milo's Kitchen, I added, so she would know I was giving my dog The Best.

Oh, no, she said. Milo's Kitchen chicken jerky is made in China. There are lots of problems with chicken jerky made in China. The FDA is looking into it.

She told me to give him some rice - only rice - and some plain, nonfat yogurt, plenty of water and nothing else. Just watch him closely and bring him in if his symptoms get worse.

It's taken three days but, thanks be to God, Theo has completely recovered. I have been sick with worry and concern. And, guilt. I mean, I fed it to him. He got sick because of something I did.

Well, not me, but because I trusted a name brand. Got suckered into the "home-style" marketing ploy. Yeah, well, I'm smart enough to know that "home-style" still means "made in a factory". I thought "home" meant, here. In the USA. Where the FDA watches over quality control.

I did some research and discovered that, indeed, the FDA has, in fact, issued a "Preliminary Animal Health Notification".

The Food and Drug Administration (FDA) continues to caution consumers of a potential association between the development of illness in dogs and the consumption of chicken jerky products also described as chicken tenders, strips or treats. FDA continues to receive complaints of dogs experiencing illness that their owners or veterinarians associate with consumption of chicken jerky products. The chicken jerky products are imported to the U.S. from China. FDA issued a cautionary warning to consumers in September 2007.

2007! Why didn't I know this? How could I have been so careless? With Mr. Wonderful, for God's sake?!! The FDA report continues:

Australian news organizations report the University of Sydney is also investigating an association between illness in dogs and the consumption of chicken jerky in Australia. At least one firm in Australia has recalled their chicken jerky product and the recall notification stated the chicken jerky product was manufactured in China.

China. You know. The place where lots of recalls on food, autos, drugs, toys and other products are now notorious.

Please note: This is not a slam on China. This is a slam on companies who continue to do business with China without insisting that they meet standards in this country - especially when the tests are inconclusive but the anecdotal evidence is an overwhelming indicator that something is terribly wrong.

Putting profits over pets is just wrong - in any place in the world. Honest to Pete, this is enough to make me join an organization like PETA. 

So, I went to the market and spoke with a lovely gentleman named Charlie at the Service Desk. I had the opened package of Milo's chicken jerky with me. I told him that I didn't want reimbursement. That I took full responsibility for my purchase. I told him what had happened and only ask that the manager consider removing the product from the store shelves. I didn't want any one else to make the same mistake I had made and cause another pet to become ill.

Charlie listened carefully and assured me that he would discuss the problem with the manager, but couldn't promise me that anything would happen as a result. I said I understood. I told him that I was simply making a request. I gave him the package of Milo's chicken jerky along with a print out of the FDA warning, thanked him, and started to leave.

He said, Wait, I'll give you your money back. Oh, I said, you don't need to do that. Yes I do, he said quietly as he scanned the package and gave me my money back.

I came home and then wrote a very polite note to the folks at Del Monte, citing the FDA warning and asking them to please stop procuring chicken jerky from China.

I got a note in reply from them yesterday.

THAT'S when I got angry.

Here's what it says, in part:

To date, the FDA, American Veterinarian Medical Association (AVMA) and several animal health diagnostic laboratories in the U.S. have not been able to identify any definitive cause or connection between the illness and treats. The FDA also reports that extensive testing of chicken jerky treats has been conducted, but no contaminant has been found.

No definitive cause or connection. No contaminant has been found.

Move along. Nothing to see here. Move along.

You can bet that if this had happened to a small child, there would be outrage expressed and instant action. But, hey, it's a dog. Only a dog. And, the evidence is not conclusive. Except, that the anecdotal evidence is overwhelming.

Here's what really pulled my last, poor, tired nerve:

In their notice, the FDA advises consumers that chicken jerky products should not be substituted for a balanced diet and are intended to be fed occasionally in small quantities. On Milo's Kitchen products, we've placed feeding guidelines, based on your dog’s weight, for each product on the package, and advise against exceeding these amounts.

See, it's MY fault. I'm apparently not giving my dog a "balanced diet". I didn't read the "feeding guidelines" and "exceeded the amounts".

Except, in my letter, I specifically noted that I had given one quarter of the treat, twice in one day - well BELOW the "feeding guidelines" on the back of their damn package.

Hell's fury, meet that of a woman scorned.

The bad news is that apparently Del Monte is going to continue to put profits before pets and get their chicken jerky from China.

The good news is that, when I visited my local market yesterday, all the Milo's chicken jerky products were off the shelf. I checked all the packages of all the different brands of jerky and treats that were still on the shelf. None of them said "Made in China". All of them said, "Made in USA".

I swung by the Service Desk and saw Charlie. He immediately grinned when he saw me. Thank you, I said. No problem, he said. 

My vet has said that she now has a sign up in her office that warns people not to feed their pets anything that says "Made in China". It also asks people to boycott ALL Milo's Kitchen products in particular and Del Monte products in general until they stop procuring their chicken jerky from China.

She also said that she was working with the Veterinarian's Association to bring the boycott to a national level.

So, I'm appealing to you, dear blog friends, to help me in this.

First of all, please do learn from my mistake. Do not feed your beloved pet anything made in China. Especially Milo's Kitchen chicken jerky.

Please join me in boycotting Del Monte products in general and Milo's Kitchen products in particular. Let your grocer know what you're doing. Ask him/her to remove these products from their shelves.

And, of your mercy and kindness, please do call or write Del Monte and ask them to please stop procuring chicken jerky from China.

You can call their toll-free number, 877-228-6493 M-F, 9-5 Eastern Time.

Or, write to them on their website and leave them a message.

Tell them to please put our pets before their profits and stop the procurement of chicken jerky from China.

I thank you. Mr. Theo the Wonderful dog thanks you.

And now, I'm off to get some recipes for making my own chicken and beef jerky. Home-style - for real. Which I will feed to Mr. Theo in small amounts. As a treat. Not as a replacement for his regular balanced diet.  Because I am a responsible parent of a wonderful dog.

And - most dangerous of all in the market place - an educated consumer who is also an activist.

I'm also a woman scorned. Don't mess with me. Or my dog.

Those of you who know me understand that you don't need the FDA to warn you how dangerous that might be.

Stirring things up

I love it when the Gospel reading from Sunday continues to stir up my soul on Monday.

Actually, this Monday, it's the sermon I heard on Sunday that continues to dance around the edges of my mind, inviting me to more deeply consider what the preacher had to say.

If you weren't in church yesterday, or didn't have a chance to reflect on the lessons, you can find them here.

In most places in Western Christendom, the third Sunday in Advent is known as Gaudette Sunday. We switch to pink vestments, no - not because Mary really wanted a girl - but the color change begins to signal a shift from penitence or contemplation to the anticipation of the joy of the coming of the Nativity of our Lord.

In Episcopal Churches, however, many refer to this as"Stir up Sunday" - because of the Collect:

"Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen."

I also understand that in our "Mother Church" in England, this was also the Sunday when folks would "stir up" the Christmas pudding which called for it to sit for a number of weeks.

Supposedly, cooks, wives and their servants would go to church, hear the words 'Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord...', and be reminded, by association of ideas, that it was about time to start stirring up the puddings for Christmas.

Just to make the Gospel point, however, John the Baptist makes another appearance - this time, in the Eucharistic Lectionary for Year "B" -  in John 1:6-8,19-28

When the priests and the Levites from Jerusalem ask him who he is, he does not say that he is the Messiah. He says,"I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, `Make straight the way of the Lord,'" as the prophet Isaiah said."

Not just any voice of any one, crying out in the wilderness. The voice of John the Baptist is the one the prophet Isaiah talked about.

Walter Brueggemann says that, for Christians the task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture

Yup. That'll stir things up.

And, that's pretty much what the preacher did. He pointed out that in today’s world, maybe the wilderness is not a desert or a wild untamed area but the everyday world around us.

I think he makes a very valid point.

In yesterday's Sunday Review section of the New York Times, Eric Weiner wrote an essay entitled, "Americans: Undecided About God?" he points out:

For a nation of talkers and self-confessors, we are terrible when it comes to talking about God. The discourse has been co-opted by the True Believers, on one hand, and Angry Atheists on the other. What about the rest of us?

The rest of us, it turns out, constitute the nation’s fastest-growing religious demographic. We are the Nones, the roughly 12 percent of people who say they have no religious affiliation at all. The percentage is even higher among young people; at least a quarter are Nones.

Apparently, a growing number of Americans are running from organized religion, but by no means running from God. On average 93 percent of those surveyed say they believe in God or a higher power; this holds true for most Nones — just 7 percent of whom describe themselves as atheists, according to a survey by Trinity College.

Nones are the undecided of the religious world. We drift spiritually and dabble in everything from Sufism to Kabbalah to, yes, Catholicism and Judaism.

The reason for this rise in the Nones? Part of the problem, Weiner says, is "that politics is to blame. We’ve mixed politics and religion so completely that many simply opt out of both; apparently they are reluctant to claim a religious affiliation because they don’t want the political one that comes along with it".

Those who claim to be Atheists are seizing on this opportunity. Even in "The First State" of Delaware, billboards are starting to spring up that picture Poseidon, then Jesus, Santa Claus, and the Devil. The caption: “37 Million Americans know MYTHS when they see them.”

Some may see the billboard and simply shake their heads in dismay. I look at that and see evidence of a spiritual wilderness.

One of the things the preacher did in yesterday's sermon which was so effective was that he flipped the image of John the Baptist like a pancake. He asked, "Suppose YOU are the voice of one, crying in the wilderness?".

That's exactly my experience this "most wonderful time of the year". I often feel I - and many other Christians I know - are single, lonely voices, crying out in a wilderness of the new religions of consumerism and marketing and, yes, politics.

For the past several years I have taken it upon myself to use "Stir up Sunday" to launch the beginning of the Season of Christmas Joy.

I say, "Have a wonderful Christmas" to the weary looking woman at the cash register at the super market. I also say, "Merry Christmas" to the man at the gas station who takes my credit card.

Of course, I don't say this to a man wearing a yarmakul or a woman in a head scarf or a man in a turban. Indeed, I try to be mindful of the religious holidays of others and make the appropriate holiday greeting. I just expect the same in return when I'm celebrating my holidays.

And, I can't think of a more important holiday for Christians than the Incarnation. 

Indeed, there's a "Christmas Letter from Jesus" that's been circulating on Facebook. If you're on Facebook, you can find one here. It includes these words:

10. Finally, if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

I think acting like a Christian includes being honest about who you are - in private and in public.

You don't need to start a petition drive to make sure there's a Nativity Scene on the front lawn of City Hall or the Post Office. If you're that passionate about it, put one up in your own front lawn.

If more people did that, there wouldn't be any need for one on any public property.

St. Francis is attributed with teaching his monks that their lives "may be the only Gospel some people ever get to read".

Make sure - at least during Advent and Lent - that people get to see in you "the reason for the season".

Have them see the humble manger that is your heart, preparing room for the coming of the Christ child.

Have them hear angels sing when they hear your voice ring out, "Have a wonderful Christmas".

Have them see the Christ in you when you make sure a family is clothed and fed and their children have toys on Christmas Day.

Do that, and not only will you be a voice of one, crying in the wilderness of The Nones, you'll also be bound to stir things up for an expectation of joy.

Love in deed is Love, indeed!

I wasn't planning on this post, but just this morning, I got into a fairly passionate discussion with a few colleagues about the whole proposal by Bishop Stacy Sauls, the new CEO of The Episcopal Church, and his "vision" of "restructuring the church for mission".

Which he did, oh, by the way, without consulting the President of the House of Deputies or any members of the Executive Council or, in fact, any of the commissions or committees of The Episcopal Church that might have a stake in - or be required to - carry out - his "vision".

Yeah, I'm a little less than pleased.

I'd like to add a few of my own thoughts on the matter, in the 'sure and certain hope' of continuing and widening this conversation. Or, at least, stimulating some thought.

Part of what keeps me up at night is that I fear the horse is already out of the barn.

God's people HAVE changed and those churches that have noticed but remained willfully blind to the change are dying.

Or, living on dead people's money (endowments).

Or, eating great mounds of the Bread of Anxiety and support the church not out of deep gratitude for the abundance of God but in fear of the scarcity of the world.

These individual churches - and the institutional church - merely circle the wagons, nickle and dime-ing the budgets (Oh, look, we can save $500 her or $1,000 there, or cut the "Outreach" because, in this crisis economy, we take care of ourselves first and then, what we have left over, we give to others - or, have "special fundraisers" which is designated for "Outreach").

Here's a question: When did "Outreach" replace "Mission"?

I submit for your consideration that a clear sense of mission helps us to 'reach out' to others, but I've never known "Outreach" to give a clear sense of "Mission".

Rather, it becomes one person's - or a small committee's - "charity project" - a means by which some individuals can "feel good" without that "outreach project" contributing two figs to the clarity about the identity and mission of the church. You know. The Body of Christ.

I suppose we've fallen into this habit because, well, it's easy to do.

We all live busy lives. If Jane Smith or John Jones want to "do that" - whatever that particular "outreach program" is - for or in or through the church, well, Thanks be to God because, God knows I'm too busy to get "involved". 

Or, well, that's not my "thing". It's "their thing". I don't know what my "thing" is. Yet.

Or, well, they are far, far better people than I am.

Or, in the perspective of some clergy leaders, well, at least someone is doing something! The real problem with that is in the leadership not connecting the "outreach" to the "mission" of the church - so that others might take part in whatever way they can.

Which leads me to these questions: Why aren't bishops recruiting LEADERS for ordination? Indeed, why aren't rectors recruiting LEADERS from their congregations to recommend to bishops and Commissions on Ministry? Why aren't Commissions on Ministry given any leadership training so they can discern servant leaders who can train other servant leaders in their midst?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Here's another question: Not that it's either/or, but when did "Congregational Development" become more important than "Mission"?

When was the last time you saw a diocese - any diocese - have an "Officer for Mission" along with a "Congregational Development Officer"?

In the Diocese of Newark, we no longer have a Department of Missions. That was dismantled a few years back - quietly and without notice, much less a vote at Diocesan Convention.

Which is fine, I suppose, but we didn't replace it with anything - except to begin calling churches and diocesan organizations "mission stations" without giving them the tools and resources - AND institutional support and backing - to make the transition.

When was the last time you established a new "mission station" in YOUR diocese?

Many diocesan staff configurations include a "Communications Director" or a "Director of Stewardship and Planned Giving" but no one who is a "Missioner".

Why is that?

When was the last time you saw a church with a "Missioner" on staff in any Episcopal Church? That's a real question.  I'd really like to know, because I'm not aware of any and I'd love to think I'm wrong.

In some places, we have decided that clergy compensation is "The Problem" - an easy thing to do as this is what is happening in the world - "taxing" employee salaries to cover the rising cost of health insurance polices or hiring "contract" status employees to get around salary and benefit requirements.

When did clergy become merely "employees" of the institutional church?

For that matter, when did Canons to the Ordinary become "Chief of Staff" or Bishop's Vicars become "Priests in Charge"?

It's a subtle, sometimes 'cosmetic' change, but the shift from being "that wonderful and sacred mystery" of the church to being more and more of the model of "corporate ecclesia" is, I fear, part of the problem we face.

Language is important.

What does this shift in language reveal about us? Is this a manifestation of "rational functionalism"?

Other churches have made change - but they are mostly cosmetic: different kinds of music, the prayers and music projected on screens, slide shows as the background to sermons.

All of these can be very effective, BUT, if - please note I said "BUT" and "IF" - it doesn't come from a place of authenticity, it begins to feel like inviting a praise band to a funeral.

I don't mean to put too fine a point on it, but as I've traveled around to various churches in the past year, my experience is that we all sing and clap (or fold) our hands and feel better for the moment, or become enchanted with all the bells and whistles of technology and the entertainment value of it all, but some of us go home at the end of the service and feel this vague, disquieting sense that something has died - or is dying - and we've just been kept too busy to notice the coffin.

Having been so gloomy, I hasten to add that there are many good examples of congregations - not just clergy but lay and ordained leaders - who "get it", and have "gotten it". These are the healthy churches that have decided to change the narrative of their community, not just rearranged the deck chairs on The Titanic or circling the wagons or building moats to protect ourselves against the invasion of the infidels.

They know WHO they are and WHOSE they are. They have a clear sense of identity from which flows an understanding of their mission - their purpose - their reason for being. Which, I would submit, is all about a balance of worshiping God and serving the people of God.

We are fed so that we might feed.

We are cared for that we might care for others - outside of the church who may not be our actual, physical "neighbors" but the ones whom Jesus called "neighbor".

What's that old saying? "A church that lives for itself, dies by itself".

What did John Wesley say? "The world is my Parish".

Worship - even Episcopal worship - doesn't have to look the same in every place. If praise music is 'your thing' - do that. If a Taize music is 'your thing' - do that. If traditional, straight up BCP and hymnal is 'your thing' - do that. If expansive, creative liturgy is 'your thing', do that.

Do it well. Do it to the very best of your ability.

I submit that you will know that you are "doing it well" - not by counting the "bums in the pews" on Sunday mornings (ASA is NOT the only measure of "congregational vitality"), or by the 'bottom line' of the budget, but rather, if you have at least as many, if not more, people working the mission of the church as you do sitting in the pews.

I re-submit for your consideration to you "Becoming a Blessed Church: Forming a Church of Spiritual Purpose, Presence, and Power," by N. Graham Standish. You can find it by clicking on the link which is connected to the title of the essay.

I'm also very impressed by the work done by the folks at the Alban Institute on Narrative Leadership. You can find some of at the Alban Institute Website.

We've not only got to start thinking "out of the box" - we've got to get OUT of the "God box" and into the world.

If we don't do that, well, I think we'd better stop kidding ourselves and decide that we're not communities that believe in and celebrate Resurrection but simply keep our blind eyes closed and ignore Death.

We'll have to admit that we are not communities of Transformation but Stasis. Not Growth but Decline (and, as we learned from Arlin Rothauge, a ten year period of stasis IS decline).

And, yes - sigh - not Mission but Maintenance.

But, none of that is going to be very successful in local congregations unless there is strong, bold, visionary leadership at the top (and middle) to risk and model - as well as support and encourage - transformation and mission at every level of the life of the church.

Here endth the rant. Well, for now.

I hope it's been helpful to stimulate you to consider how it is you put your faith into action.

I am haunted by a panel I once saw in an AIDS Quilt. It said, "If love is all you need, you'd be alive today."

The Beatles were naive - and, weren't we all - when we sang "love is all you need".

It's Love in deed.  It's not "all" we need, but it's a damn good start.

Dirty Mary

Sometimes I wonder why, as a woman in the church, I have any religious faith at all.

I think it may be due to something about Mary. And today, of course, is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Well, on some calendars, anyway.

My earliest memories of Christian education were lessons from the something called "The Baltimore Catechism" which we dutifully memorized.

I can still recall the first few questions:

Q: Who made you?
A: God made me.

Q: Why did God make us?
A: God made us to show forth His goodness and to share with us His everlasting happiness in heaven.

Q: What must we do to gain the happiness of heaven?
A: To gain the happiness of heaven we must know, love, and serve God in this world.

Q: From whom do we learn to know, love, and serve God?
A: We learn to know, love, and serve God from Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who teaches us through the Catholic Church.

The Catechism didn't actually say "only" through the (Roman) Catholic Church, but that was understood. Absolutely. No question. Because, of course, questions were not allowed.

Obedience was expected. Demanded. Required. Absolutely.

My other early memories of the lessons I learned in the Roman Catholic Church did not come from the Baltimore Catechism but remain burned even more deeply into my memory.

That's because these things were not only taught by the nuns and priests but modeled for us in their behavior - and in the statues that were all around the church.

It had to do with the "natural order" of God's creation wherein it was understood that women were inferior to men. We were the "weaker sex" - in all ways - not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually and morally.

Two women - Eve and Mary - stood as sentinels at the Gateway of Good and Evil and served as reminders of how to behave as girls and young women - and, the consequences of our behavior.

Eve had been disobedient to God's will and tempted Adam to sin, causing "The Fall of Man", the destruction of Paradise and opened the world to pain and suffering.

Mary had been obedient and "submissive" to God's will and gave birth to Jesus, becoming the vehicle of the redemption of the world. Indeed, some insist she is the Co-Redemptrix.

The sins of Adam were redeemed by Jesus.

The sins of Eve were redeemed by Mary.

The logic was so neat and tidy it could hardly be denied.

"Neat and tidy" were "outward and visible" signs of acceptance of "God's will for us" and our obedience to "the Natural Law of God". Indeed, things around the church and convent and rectory were described as being "immaculate" - a standard my mother always tried to have us aspire to achieve in our own homes and in our own lives.

She wanted her house "immaculate". Our rooms "immaculate". Our clothing and shoes "immaculate". Our hair and nails "immaculate".

Because..............? Well, because Mary, of course, was "immaculate". She was the "Virgin Mother" and she was "meek and mild". A "handmaiden of the Lord" who "was obedient" to God.

And, she was, in every way "Immaculate" - which was somehow vaguely connected to sex (The nuns of my youth taught: "Sex is dirty and disgusting. Save it for someone you love".) but especially connected to gender (As Mary Daley taught, "If God is male then male is god").  

I remember spending hours in the church, praying in front of a bank of votive candles which flickered at the base of the statue of Mary. She also had several incarnations in statues around my grandmother's house - on her bedroom bureau, on an end table in the living room, in an outdoor shrine in the garden - with plastic or fabric or paper flowers at her feet and votive candles which whispered secret petitions for her to intercede with her son for prompt answers to our prayers.

My prayers were always, "Please make me more like you." That was a sincere prayer from the innocence of my child's heart. It took me years to figure out why that prayer was never answered, and to understand that I was supposed to grow in who God made me (See also: The Baltimore Catechism - "God made me because God loves me" - as Mr. Rogers used to say - "just the way I am".)

The Feast of the Immaculate Conception was always a Very Big Deal in my grandmother's house. It was even bigger than the Feast of St. Nicholas a few days before wherein we got gold foil wrapped chocolate coins left in our shoes.

No, this was much, MUCH bigger than St. Nicholas. For the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, the boys had to dress in their blue uniforms, but the girls got to wear white dresses and crowns of holly, ivy and poinsettia and process inside the church singing,

Immaculate Mary, thy praises we sing;
Who reignest in splendor with Jesus our King.
Ave, ave, ave, Maria! Ave, ave, Maria!

Honoring Mary was the only time I can remember that girls got to feel really special in church.  We so looked forward to Mary's Birthday on September 8th, her Presentation on November 21st, and the Assumption of Mary on August 15th - wherein she was "assumed" bodily into heaven - not that anything was "assumed" about her or that she just grew up and always simply "assumed" that she would one day be the Mother of God.

On those Marian days, we girls were special and simultaneously honored for being "good girls" while being warned about the consequences of being "bad girls" - mainly, that if the boys did anything wrong, it was, somehow, the girl's fault. 

Other than than, we were considered "unclean" to even cross the altar rail or get anywhere near the altar. Only proven, trusted, faithful - and, menopausal - women could be on the Altar Guild, allowed to "do the dishes" for Jesus.

But, on the Feast of The Immaculate Conception, girls took center stage. Awards were given, according to age and grade. The girl in each class who had earned the highest grade so far was given a special award. So, too, the girl in each class who had "perfect" attendance.

The girl in each class who had written the best essay entitled, "Why I want to be more like Mary" was also given a special award. I was the recipient of that award. Twice. Hence, my long hours of prayers before the statue of Mary.

These "awards" consisted of a piece of immaculately white paper that announced "Award" and our name in immaculate hand calligraphy which had been done by one of the ancient nuns who lived in the immaculate convent next door and had been perfectly rolled up and tied in white and blue ribbon.

That was accompanied by either a pair of plastic rosary beads, a laminated prayer card with Marian prayers, or a plastic, glow-in-the-dark statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

I came to later understand that these were just cheap plastic tchotchke, but, at the time, when we won one of them, we thought we had died and gone to heaven. 

It has taken me years to get over Mary. Well, not Mary but what the church has done to her over the centuries.

The logic of her supposed "immaculate conception" may be nice and tidy, but it really doesn't resolve the problem of "original sin". And, if Mary was conceived by her parents, Anne and Joaquin, without sin, how could she be redeemed by the crucifixion and death of Jesus?

I'm hardly the first to highlight the problem.  Critics of this particular piece of dogma include Saints Bernard of Clairvaux, Albertus Magnus and Thomas Aquinas.

You see the problems. Except, of course, for the Roman Catholic Church which operates on the doctrine of "truth by blatant assertion".

In 2008, the Roman-Anglican Dialogues reported, " "The question arises for Anglicans, however, as to whether these doctrines concerning Mary are revealed by God in a way which must be held by believers as a matter of faith". 

So, you'll excuse me if, today, I celebrate The Feast of Dirty Mary.

Not Mary "meek and mild" but strong and feisty.

Courageous enough to hear the voice of God and not go mad or allow herself to be considered crazy, having had a spiritual audition.

Bold enough to insist on being considered worthy, having been judged as having broken the laws of purity and propriety for a young virginal woman of her day.

Strong enough to journey alone to the Hill Country to spend some time with her cousin Elizabeth and be present for the birth of Elizabeth and Zacharia's son, John, who would become known as The Baptizer, who prepared the world for the life of the child in her womb.

Feisty enough to have raised a son whom she taught - by the lessons of Torah and by her very life - to love mercy, do justice, and walk attentively with God.

That is the difficult, sacrificial, messy work of many women throughout the ages.

Graham Greene, the English novelist, said the most serious heresy threatening the modern world is the unimportance of the individual.  Mary's life and experiences - such as we know them - give us a different message than that of the world and some parts of the church: all is sacred, all creation is redeemed, all is a reflection of the glory of God.

Perhaps the church needs to dress her in white and blue, and foist her on stone grottoes, and shield her behind glass or plastic or wrought iron fences, and shower her feet with plastic or silk or paper flowers.

Not me. I like my Mary dirty. Real. Human. A woman like me who knows something about human pain and suffering, prejudice and oppression and yet never loses touch with the Divine who created her nor the spark of divinity within her.

Just like I want to grow up to be, one day.

Before I die . . . .

Candy Chang is an artist, designer, and urban planner who says she likes to make cities more comfortable for people.

She has started an interactive art project called "Before I Die...." in her New Orleans neighborhood on a building which had been abandoned after Hurricane Katrina's devastation.

She says she seeks to transform neglected spaces into a constructive places where we can discover the hopes and dreams of the people around us.

It is also a reminder to ourselves of what is most important to us. She believes the design of our public spaces can better reflect what matters to us as a community and as individuals.

She may be onto something.

The project has, apparently, caught on in neighborhoods around the world.

There are now "Before I Die..." interactive community art projects around the world, including "Amsterdam, Portsmouth, Querétaro, Almaty, San Diego, Lisbon, Brooklyn, and beyond. "

It's a very simple project - including the project materials, which include an abandoned building or wall (with permission of the owner, of course), some sheets of plywood, Chalkboard paint, stencils, spray paint and, of course, different colors of "sidewalk chalk".

You put it up and let people have at it. When it gets full, you just wash it off and let folks start over again. Or, you just wait for Mother Nature to take care of it after a drenching rain or snow storm.

People will come back. Again, and again, and again. Sometimes, writing the same thing, and other times different things.

You really can't take away someone's hopes and dreams. They'll just keep coming back to the wall with them.

This whole concept really struck me after a conversation with my friend, Maria Evans who has a delightful blog Kirepiscatoid . She also writes occasionally for Episcopal Cafe, in the "Daily Episcopalian" section "Speaking to the Soul". Here's her Advent Meditation.

Somehow, we got from talking about "what's wrong with the church" (one of our favorite rants) onto the topic of "impatience" (not a hard jump when you consider the partners in this conversation).

She often takes the mundane or obscure and suddenly - without warning - it becomes an essay or a  litany or a psalm. My personal favorite is "The Order of Service for Doing Laundry"("Rock of Ages, clean for me, Cheer and Tide I give to Thee.").

Maria has, just this morning after our online conversation, written a "Song of Impatience" which she promises will appear on her blog on December 8 - which, of course, is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.

Which, perhaps "The Order of Service for Doing Laundry" may well be a better suited match, but you can't stifle the Spirit in these matters.

You might just call some bad juju on your impatient self.

When you read it, please note that the last line is mine.  It goes:

"But I am singing, 'Lord, give me patience*,
       and give it to me now. Right now, right now, right now'."

I can't hardly wait. (But, I think you already could have guessed that.)

I suggested to Maria that I think impatience has to do with our ever-increasing awareness of the limits of our own mortality. I think even little kids have this deep awareness. I suspect impatience is a manifestation of this subconscious or unconscious sense that we want to get everything "in" before we "check out". 

Dreams and hopes and longings can not be stifled forever. They are the working of the Spirit.

So, I had this thought as an online Advent Meditation: What if we started a "Before I Die...." chalkboard project in this cyberspace neighborhood?

It would be a wonderful community effort to name the impatience of our hopes and dreams and longings in this Season of Expectation.

I'll start off the question, and you all write your answers in the comment section of this blog. Hey, I'll even suspend my policy about "No Anonymous Comments" for this project.

Unless, of course, you say something hateful or hurtful, and then I'll erase it faster than you can say "sponge and water" or sing, "Rock of Ages, clean for me, Cheer and Tide I give to Thee". 

Just to grease the wheels, here's what some folk have written:  

Before I die I want to… sing for millions, see my daughter graduate, eat a salad with an alien, see the leaves change many times, be someone’s cavalry, straddle the International Date Line, cook a souffle, hold her one more time, make it in the hip hop, help numerous children, see what I’m like as an old man, tell my mother I love her, make peace with Ohio, abandon all insecurities, be completely myself, evaporate into the light…

Here's mine:

Before I die.... I want to stand on the beach in front of the ocean and sing and dance naked in the moonlight and be completely unashamed.

Okay. Your turn.  Here's  you're "chalk". 

Have at it. 

"BEFORE I DIE........."

I want to ____________________________.

Playing with Fire

I wasn't going to write about this.

I had begun to think that it was just me - just a part of my "adjustment" about not being in the pulpit every Sunday. Probably more my ego than anything else, I thought, tinged with a bit of "healthy neurosis" that besets many of us who wear a collar.

But, this article from the Alban Institute has me thinking that it's not just me.

Actually, the article is excerpted and adapted from Becoming a Blessed Church: Forming a Church of Spiritual Purpose, Presence and Power,  by N. Graham Standish.

Here's what originally caught my eye:

Many denominations, churches, pastors, and members have become mired in a series of worthless arguments in their attempt to diagnose why mainstream denominations and churches are in decline. Many churches simply aren't open to God. They let the will, ego, and purpose of the dominant voices in their congregation, whether the pastor's or that of a few strong members, drive the agenda. Instead of seeking God's call and purpose, they argue over who is right and wrong. Declining churches tend not to be open to God's presence. They worship, meet, and engage in ministry and mission, but their sense is that God is in heaven, we are on earth, and all that matters is doing good deeds. The congregants have no sense that Christ is in their midst, and that this presence of Christ can bless them and make their churches places of love. So they continue to engage in the practices of the church, but they don't expect an encounter with Christ.

I don't think there are too many churches in decline in my neighborhood. Most of them are either making modest gains (I heard one rector talk about how, thus far, there were 17 new pledges in his congregation), or holding their own (the losses are made up by the increases and everyone sighs a sigh of relief for another year).

Mostly, that's because going to church is part of the culture here. It's simply what one does on Sunday morning. And, if one doesn't, one might have a bit of 'splainin' to do with one's neighbors.

I can't think of one person in my neighborhood - or even those folks who come to the house to service my heating system, or the occasional leaky faucet or roof, or for renovation - who hasn't invited me to "their" church. Usually, it's for a Pot Luch Supper or some "event". Pastors here have gotten the message out to "invite someone to church" - and it's been heard.

Lately, however, I've gotten bold and pushed the point. I've been asking about Jesus. You know, how they experience the Risen Christ in their midst.

Mostly, I get a stammered response, accompanied by some words about how the music is good or the sermons are "helpful". Sometimes, even, "very helpful".

I usually ignore the comments about music. Everyone has an appreciation for the "entertainment value" of church music.

When I ask about the sermons and why they are helpful, what I mostly get is "Well, I learn so much about the Bible". Emboldened, I ask, "But, do you learn how to apply the Bible to your daily life?" The response is usually a quizzical look. Like, what does that have to do with sermon? Or, church?

Standish calls this "rational functionalism". Here's what he says about it:

Rational functionalism is rooted in the idea that we can uncover the mysteries of life and the universe mainly through rational thought and disciplined investigation. It is the tendency of denominations, their congregations, and their leaders to subscribe to a view of faith and church rooted in a restrictive, logic-bound theology that ignores the possibility of spiritual experiences and miraculous events.

What really sparked this whole thing for me was an experience I had at church on Sunday. The Second Sunday in Advent is almost always "John the Baptist Sunday" in which we encounter the wild man dressed in camel's hair, with a leather belt around his waist, eating wild locust and honey. This year, we meet him in Mark 1:1-8.

No matter the year in the Lectionary Cycle, I love the lessons for this Sunday. John the Baptist always stands for me as the symbolic part of myself that is simply wild with expectation about God's presence in my life. His is "the voice of one, crying out in the wilderness" to prepare the way of the Lord, which we hear in Isaiah 40:1-11.

I was aware that I was mildly excited to hear how the preacher would "connect the dots" of what we are experiencing in our world today with this wild expectation and preparation for the re-awakening of and re-awareness of God's presence in our lives.

Well, what I heard was a sermon on the Collect. Indeed, none of the lessons were referred to, except in passing, and, only to prove the point of the Collect. Which was:

Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Actually, it was not a sermon. It was a lecture. And, it wasn't on the Collect, actually. The Collect was simply a springboard for a little "talk" from the pulpit about sin - something our preacher told us doesn't happen very often. Or, often enough, apparently.

It was a good "talk". A fine "talk". It was even blessedly brief. I learned a great deal about the Seven Deadly Sins and the pros and cons of each one. And, at the end, we were invited to consider our own sins in this "penitential season of Advent". Which, I suppose, moved it from a strict lecture and more into the realm of a sorta-kinda meditation.

Forget about the part that Advent is about preparation not penitence. This was not a sermon. It was a "talk". It was all conceived and addressed from the neck up.

It was "rational functionalism".

Here's more of what Standish says:

In churches caught in the grip of rational functionalism, sermons tend to become academic papers read to the people in the pews. They don't address more basic issues: How are we supposed to endure living with pain, loneliness, and turmoil? How are we supposed to find God amid life's darkness? Bible studies focus on the historical, sociological, economic, and cultural issues of the time, with the intent of uncovering what theological message the writer of a Bible passage is trying to impart. They don't address more basic issues: What is God saying to me through the Scripture about how to live my life? What is God saying to me about what God is doing in my life, especially in the face of my suffering? How is God calling me to love others and to reach out to those who are suffering, both near and throughout the world, and who are in need of God's love as well as mine?

You see, it's not that the "sermon" was bad. It's just that it wasn't a sermon.

I understand. Writing and delivering the kind of sermon Standish is talking about is like playing with fire. It requires that you strip down naked and wrestle with the text for hours - doing all the Bible study stuff and then examining your own life and taking a deep look at what is going on in the world and in your community.

When you do that work, you are playing with the fire of the Gospel. But sometimes ......... sometimes... ..... every once in a while....if you're really lucky .... someone .... some one person .... in the congregation, is listening ..... really listening ....  and, begins to catch fire, too.

Or, at least, something in their soul begins to heat up or is "strangely warmed".

And, the danger of that, of course, is that, in Gospel-centered, non-rational functionalism, the emphasis is not on preaching for the sake of preaching - not to create a check-list of another part of the liturgy done - but, rather, to create an atmosphere wherein the congregation can experience an awareness of -  deepening relationship with - the presence of the living God in our midst.

Here's what I think. I think we're most afraid of that. We're all about "teh nice" - especially in The Episcopal Church. We're all about "teh feel-good" - at least for one hour per week.

As one of my former Senior Wardens told me, "I see church as a neighborhood Ice Cream truck, delivering good things to people."

Still makes me go, "Yuck!"

It's a fearful thing to have an awareness of the presence - or the coming - of the living God. I mean, look what it did to John the Baptist!

I understand. When you play with fire, somebody could get burned. Sometimes, it's the preacher. Sometimes, people begin to be more concerned with living a Christian life than living in the institutional church and, God knows, the institutional church doesn't want that!

Here's what Standish says about the expectations of a church which he distinguishes from one that operates on "rational functionalism" -  one he calls "blessed".

In blessed churches, people not only expect to experience God; they do experience God. Their expectations open the door to God, who stands knocking. They expect to hear the Creator's voice guiding the church to what it is called to be and do. They expect to encounter and be blessed by Christ. They expect the power of God the Holy Spirit to flow through their life and the church's, blessing them in so many ways.

Maybe the problem is that, in this Season of Expectation (NOT Penitence), I'm expecting too much.

My kids gave me a coffee mug once, for my birthday. On the outside of the mug it said, "If you expect me to live up to your expectations .....", and on the inside it said, "....lower your expectations".

Look, I'm not looking for a "WOW!" every Sunday. I don't need a praise band to get my blood pumping and I certainly don't need someone shouting, "Jeeeessssuuusss" every 10 seconds.

I am not looking for a Bible Study from the pulpit. Neither am I looking for an Adult Forum lecture or meditation on a "topic related to Scripture" or one silently entitled, "How to live a good Christian life".

I guess I feel like those men in John's Gospel (12:21) who said, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus."

I want to see someone honestly struggling with how to live the Gospel in her/his life. I want to see someone who has had an encounter with the Risen Christ, and speaks from that experienced place of authenticity and integrity and truth.

I want someone who can play with some Gospel fire. Right from the pulpit. Right in front of God and everyone. And, be unashamed about it.

I guess I am, after all, a real Anglican. I want Word and Sacrament. I want the Word to be broken open and I want to be fed by it in the same way the Bread is broken and shared so we all can be nourished and fed. And, in Standish's word, "blessed".

I guess I'd even settle for some locust and wild honey. I'll just pass on the pablum.

I may have to head to the Presbyterian Church nearby. I hear the preaching team there is really good. They even have a sermon discussion group after the sermon.

What would it be like to talk with other Christians about the gospel instead of arguing about theological positions, styles of worship, availability of programs, or to not have to worry about being too liberal or too conservative or not orthodox enough?

Hmmmm ...... What an intriguing thought.  Sounds positively wonderful to me.

Then again, I just might be playing with fire.

And the word became flesh...er, umm... "meat"...er, umm... "butter"....

Maybe it's because, this year, my family isn't celebrating "Little Christmas" until January 21st and I've got some extra time on my hands.

Maybe it's because I've got a Really Warped sense of humor.

My friend Marcia sent me a link to this site "The 27 (and growing) Worst Nativity Sets".

I can't stop laughing.

Seriously.

I mean, I know St. Paul said to the Church in Rome that "faith leads to works" but, I mean, Really?

He also said something about it being "better not to eat meat or drink wine than to cause a sister or brother to stumble" but I don't know if that includes Nativity Scenes made out of sausage and bacon.

I don't know if Jesus is laughing hysterically or shaking his head in dismay.

Check out this little number to your left.

Yup. That's butter.

I'm not sure if this is an act of devotion or an exercise in ..... well..... butter.

My question is, how do you keep the thing cold throughout Advent?

The thought of a rancid butter Nativity on Christmas Day is........

.........Well.......

I think that might cause more than one sister or brother to stumble.

 

 Here's one made out of cupcakes 

And, another carved out of Spam

If perishable Nativity Scenes are not your thing (and, why would it be?), you can always get ones with various animals.

  This "Pig Nativity Scene" is not very "kosher" - but I have to admit that I am rather fond of the pink pig angel - over to the left. The one with the pink and white wings. However, I must say that the pig donkey, sheep and camel are vaguely disturbing. 

I suspect more than one or two Levitical codes have been broken in this scene.

Some things might be said about Mary being a pig - or even Joseph or (gasp!) Baby Jesus - but I don't think anyone wants to go there. 

There are lots (and lots, and lots) more animal scenes, but I think the winner of the whole contest is this piece called "Mexican Nativity Scene".

Now, I've been to Mexico and I don't think this is actually a "Mexican Nativity Scene". At least, I haven't seen any Mermaids and Mermen - much less Merbabies - in Mexico, but then again, it may have just been that I had an inexperienced tour guide who didn't take me to the right places.

I know it's popular to call people not from the United States - especially Mexico - "aliens" - and we love to call them, "illegal", just in case the "alien" doesn't make the point for you. 

But Mary, Joseph and Jesus as Merpeople? That's pretty alien - and might just be illegal -  but I don't think that's very Mexican.

Obviously, this is a nativity scene that was made in Mexico. By a Mexican. Who is neither "illegal" nor "alien" but who has a really amazing imagination - not to mention an eye for .... umm.... detail.

As one of my Hispanic gay male friends said when I walked into the newly decorated apartment of he and his partner and marveled at all the .... detail.... , "Hey, we're Hispanic and gay. To us, less is....well.....LESS!"

My absolute favorite, however, is this amazing video clip entitled "Bethlehemian Rhapsody". You absolutely MUST see it. Seriously. Consider it part of your Advent Meditation.

Here's how the clip is described:

This delightful parody written by Mark Bradford and directed by Darla Robinson (darlamason@hotmail.com) tells the Christmas story in a new....and UNIQUE....way that will touch the hearts of generations to come. Enjoy!

Don't waste another minute on reading this blog and spend the next four minutes and 46 seconds watching this. You can either see it below or click on this link.

If you think the "Mexican Nativity Set" was great, just wait till you see the gold manger descending from the clouds.

That sound you hear - when you stop your own giggles - is Jesus, Mary and Joseph and all the angels and archangels laughing and applauding uproariously from the heavens.

Don't forget to check out the "27 (and counting) Worst Nativity Sets". They are not to be missed.

Happy Advent everyone!

An even smaller world

The World of Free Fantasy Art Pictures - Amsterdam The Netherlands

It happens, sometimes, when I'm meeting someone for the first time and they ask, "How many children do you have?"

"Six," I say, and then something catches me in the back of my throat and this little dialogue begins to click off in my head. "Maybe I should have said, 'five' because if s/he asks me about my kids, I'll have to say that one has died and I don't want to talk about that. Not now. Not here".

"But, I have six - I just lost one," the silent dialogue continues quite loudly. "Why didn't s/he ask, 'How many children have you HAD?' and then I could say, 'six' and not have to explain. But, no one asks, 'How many children have you HAD?' - that's just crazy - so just let it be 'question asked and answered' and move the conversation along by smiling and asking, 'And you?'.

Or, change the subject completely by asking something like, "Think the rain will hurt the rhubarb?"

Which is what I have learned to do, and it works pretty well most of the time, except for the ache that lingers in my throat and eventually makes its way down into my heart.

Sometimes, it happens when I'm looking through a cookbook for a recipe and I shift the book onto my lap and some of the notes fall out and there's one for chicken soup with her hand writing and notes all over it - ("I always use much more garlic than this. I am my mother's daughter") and I feel that catch at the back of my throat again and for a few seconds I can't breathe.

Just the other day, I was in the grocery store, and I saw two young girls giggling over something on the shelf and one said to the other, "That's just crazy," and they collapsed into giggles and one started singing Patsy Cline's "Crazy" and I remembered that was one of her favorite songs by one of her favorite artists (that, and "Walking After Midnight" which she loved to do) and my throat closed and I closed my hands in a tight grip on the handle of my shopping cart and move forward and tried to smile as I passed the giggling girls in the shopping aisle.  

Then, just this morning, after my prayers and "morning ablutions" and while I was sipping my coffee, I read the Story of the Day by StoryPeople.

I know he's not really gone,
she said, but the world still
feels smaller to me today.

I sat there for a few seconds and looked at the words on my laptop, waiting for the return of my old friend, the tightening at the back of my throat, and smiled, this time, the way one does when an old friend makes an appearance. And, I smiled because of the dependability and predictability and the familiarity were oddly comforting.

The world is a smaller place since the death of my firstborn, and yet she is always present. Sometimes I try to pretend that isn't so, but I know it's just because sometimes I'm more aware than at other times.

Sometimes, she tugs at my heart (or the back of my throat) like she used to tug at the tail end of my shirt or the back of my jeans when she was a small child, demanding attention be paid to the worm she had in her hand, or a thought she had in her head, or the "God rock" she had picked up in the yard and put in her pocket.

Seven years later, my old friend, Grief, is not exactly a constant companion but no longer The Unwanted Guest.  I've come to understand Grief as someone I have to live with who will make occasional, unexpected and unannounced appearances to remind me that it is only because life it good that it hurts to lose it.

If life were not good, there would be no need of Grief to catch the back of your throat and tangle the strings of your heart in the empty places left by death.

So, in that way, Grief is good.  A reminder of the goodness and preciousness and fragility of life.

I won't lie: I wish she were still here. With me. With us. Being her passionate, quick-tempered, generous, compassionate, intelligent, maddening, crazy-walking-after-midnight-in-the-rain self.

She is.  I know she is. Here. Well, her spirit is. And, since I believe with all my heart and soul in the communion of saints, I know that, not only is she still with us, but that I will see her again, one day, on the beautiful shore in that Sweet Bye and Bye.

I know that to be true in my head and in my heart - as well as in the back of my throat.

It's just that, right now, the world is an even smaller place without her.

Getting to Zero

This year's World AIDS Day theme is "Getting to Zero" - in terms of numbers of newly diagnosed cases of AIDS, discrimination of people with AIDS, and the numbers of people who do not have access to antiretroviral drugs to treat AIDS.

It's all about raising awareness about AIDS but, every year, when December 1st rolls around, I wonder how many people are actually paying attention.

I mean, it is estimated that 33.3 million people have HIV worldwide, with 1.2 million persons who are living with HIV in the United States, according to the Center of Disease Control (CDC) estimates.

New infections continue at far too high of a level, with approximately 50,000 Americans becoming infected with HIV each year.

However, worldwide, the rate of new infections or incidence has decreased. In 33 countries, the incidence has decreased more than 25 percent since 2001, including countries in the hardest hit areas of sub-Saharan Africa.

The CDC estimates that one in five people living with HIV in the U.S. are unaware of their infection - which may be one of the reasons that 50,000 Americans are newly infected each year.

So, while I applaud the goal of "getting to zero" in terms of new cases of AIDS (YES! I shout enthusiastically, let's do it), I sometimes scratch my head and wonder if the message of early intervention, prevention and education of HIV/AIDS is "getting to zero" numbers of Americans.

A second component of "getting to zero" is zero discrimination for people living with HIV/AIDS. The "leper" stigma associated with HIV/AIDS is reportedly the single most important barrier to public action. It is the reason people do not seek diagnosis or even treatment.

Silence still equals death. The way to remove the silence is to remove the stigma.

"We can fight stigma. Enlightened laws and policies are key. But it begins with openness, the courage to speak out. Schools should teach respect and understanding. Religious leaders should preach tolerance. The media should condemn prejudice and use its influence to advance social change, from securing legal protections to ensuring access to health care." Ban Ki-moon, Secretary-General of the United Nations.

Amen, I say. It sounds so easy, doesn't it? A good, solid plan. The question is, why aren't we following it?  Why aren't our schools teaching respect and understanding? Why aren't our religious leaders - of all people - not preaching AT LEAST 'tolerance'? Why isn't the media condemning prejudice and using its influence to advance social change? Still?

Answer me that riddle and we may have a real shot at "getting to zero".

A third component of "getting to zero" is to decrease the number of AIDS-related deaths by increasing access to available treatments for all those infected.

More than 25 million people between 1981 and 2007 have died from the virus worldwide, making it one of the most destructive pandemics in history. In the US, nearly 594,500 people with AIDS in the US have died since the epidemic began.

Currently, only one third of the 15 million people living with HIV worldwide who are in need of life long treatment are receiving it. Universal access to antiretroviral treatments for those living with HIV will not only decrease the number of AIDS related deaths, but will increase the quality of life among those infected and decrease transmission.

Part of the problem, of course, is "Big Pharma" - the pharmaceutical drug companies with expensive, effective lobbyists.   Wiki reports::

According to the non-partisan Center for Responsive Politics, pharmaceutical companies spent $900 million on lobbying between 1998 and 2005, more than any other industry. During the same period, they donated $89.9 million to federal candidates and political parties, giving approximately three times as much to Republicans as to Democrats.According to the Center for Public Integrity, from January 2005 through June 2006 alone, the pharmaceutical industry spent approximately $182 million on Federal lobbying.[2] The industry has 1,274 registered lobbyists in Washington D.C.

Let's stop and do a little math, here. I'm thinking that $900 million + $89.9 million + $182 million = more than enough money to provide drugs for the remaining 2/3 of the 15 million people living with HIV worldwide.

"Getting to zero" is going to take shaking loose a whole lotta money from Big Pharma. It's obscene that they are spending this money to get more money for higher profit margins while people all over the world are dying for want of antiretroviral medications.

Indeed, I am going to boldly claim that part of the reason we have antiretroviral medications in the first place is directly due to the political activism of many people in the early days of the AIDS epidemic who pushed and prodded and "ACT(ed) UP" to get pharmaceutical companies and government officials to fast-track the research to make these drugs available.

Most of those activists are gone, now. They did not live long enough to enjoy the fruits of those early days of struggle and activism.

One of the most significant components of World AIDS day is to remember all those young men and women - those bright, educated, funny tender branches that were killed by an early frost in the early days of the epidemic.

Indeed, I wonder if one of the reasons we are experiencing an increase in the number of new infections in America is because we have gotten to "zero remembrance" of the ones we've lost.

I have lots of stories of the friends I've lost in this epidemic. I stopped counting after my 50th funeral because I feared that if I continued counting, I'd lose my mind and my will to fight.

I've told many of those stories here, on this blog.

I'm looking, now, at a tiny pair of shoes that once graced the feet of a little girl named Anastasia Tesi. I've placed her mother's prayer beads over them.

She was part of a young, active, loving family of five - an artist mother, a musician father, and her two older brothers.

They are all gone now. The "zero" affect of the early days of the AIDS pandemic. Wiped out by a silent, microscopic virus which ravaged their immune system, leaving them indefensible to infections and cancerous tumors.

The theory was that Anastasia's father, a weekend, "recreational" heroin/cocaine user, had shared a contaminated needle with one of his band members, infecting his wife and their three children when they were in utero or through breast milk. His wife also suspected he "might" have been bisexual.

No one really knew because he wasn't diagnosed until after he died. His eldest son died two weeks later. The next son died four weeks after that. At the time, his wife was pregnant with Anastasia, who was born HIV positive.

Both were treated with antiretrovirals, which had just recently become available. Anastasia died when she was 18 months old. Her mother died a few months later.

A family of five got to zero in two years time.

That's the way it was, back in the day. That's the way it is, still, in many places in the world.

As we're "getting to zero" - in terms of numbers of people with AIDS, in terms of ending the discrimination associated with AIDS and in terms of not denying treatment options for everyone, everywhere - I hope we remember the people and the families who are no more.

It may sound counter-intuitive, but I don't think we can get to zero without remembering every single one of the 594,500 people (and counting) with AIDS in the US - and the millions more, worldwide - who have died since the epidemic began.

I'm remembering them today.

Every last one of them.

Even though I stopped counting long ago.

It gives me courage to continue to pay attention to today.