What are you looking for?

Jesus is everywhere, it seems. So is his mother.

I've always been fascinated that, despite the many, many constellations of stars named for animals and Kings and belts of warriors, none are named for Jesus. Or, Mary. Or, John the Baptist.

However, if you search the internet, you can find their images in a piece of toasted bread, a cup of latte, on rain-streaked windows, inside the core of a half-eaten apple, reflected in puddles as well as in clouds.

People come from miles away to witness what they call a "miracle". And, to pray to the miracle for a miracle in their lives.

I think they might just be missing the point of today's gospel (John 1:29-42). This morning's lessons provide some important clues as to how to find God and Jesus for ourselves today.

I don't think it's as important to see an image of Jesus as it is to see what is in Jesus, who he represents or his qualities and character.

It's important to see Jesus in each other - in the common stuff of life - the 'Lamb of God' which John saw in him.

It's also important to know that, if you hang around with Jesus, at some point, you're going to be changed and transformed. Simon became Cephas, which is translated 'Peter'.

You'll find that you will begin to take risks for a dream of how things might be if we all hang out with Jesus - or those who know him and love him - and learn to live your life in His Way.

This will not come without cost. When you journey with Jesus and His followers, you will travel to what Martin Smith calls "the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of your faith," where you will be changed and transformed and never again be the same.

I'm off to church momentarily. I hope you are, too. Or, have already been.

You won't be changed in church. As has been humorously said, "Going to church won't make you Christian any more than going to the garage will make you a car."

Maybe you'll learn something. Maybe you'll be challenged and inspired to do something. Put your faith into action. Take a risk for the gospel. Repent - which is to say, turn around. Get off the path you were on and take a new one.

Maybe you'll be bored silly or angered by what the preacher said and either of those two responses to church will challenge you to say, "Hang on! This isn't what it's all about. THIS is. . . ."

And, in that epiphany, you'll find the path you need to be on and find the energy to take it.

First, I suppose, you have to ask yourself an important question: "What are you looking for?" Start there, and you may just find it in the most unexpected places and at the most surprising times.

Andrew and Simon didn't meet Jesus until four o'clock in the afternoon.

It's not too late.

It never is, with Jesus. No matter when or where or how he shows up.

The Mystery of Prayer

In the past three days, I've had the occasion to pray with two people over the phone.

One is going through a very difficult time. The other has lost a loved one.

Both asked for prayer.

Over the phone. Like now. Right now. Now, now.

Indeed, one set up a time so we could pray together. We have another 'telephone prayer date' on Monday afternoon.

The other was a day later. She was deeply grieving her loss and was without pastoral care. My offer to pray with her arose spontaneously which she agreed to eagerly.

I wouldn't have been able to do one without the other.

I'm really not sure why I have been uncomfortable praying "long distance" on the telephone with people. I mean, there are at least two blogs I follow and those two bloggers frequently put out long prayer requests which they have either gotten personally or they glean from other people's blogs.

I find myself grateful to be able to join in prayer for them.

I get emails all the time from people I know, asking for prayer. I don't personally know the people I'm praying for. I will probably never meet them in this life. I pray anyway. Fervently. And always feel privileged to be able to do so.

Indeed, I have, from time to time, put out requests for prayer on my own blog. I'm always deeply moved and profoundly comforted to know that people are attending to my prayer request, however long the distance. Even though I don't know who's praying or what or how they're praying.

But, actually praying with someone, on the phone? In 'real time'? That's a different sort of thing than praying in private in your own prayer closet or or alone at your own prayer desk.

I suppose I'm more affected by "televangelists" than I care to admit.

On one level, I think there's something in me that wants to distance myself from those fake-teared showmen who look sincerely into the camera before they tightly close their eyes and say excitedly, "There's someone who is praying about a job.... Someone named 'James'. Oh, Father-God, I hear you telling me to let him know that he will find employment....Thank you, Jesus."

I suppose there's nothing really wrong with that sort of prayer, except for me, anyway, it seems less about prayer and more about the ego. . ..

. . .and "the Benjamins".

I mean, if they didn't end their telecast with a plea for money to support their ministry, I suspect they might have at least a tad more credibility with me.

One of my friends remarked how amazed she was that, in the prayers of the clergy in her church and her experience of my prayer, "Part of your prayer with me is that you pray for each other."

She said, "It feels like there are no egos involved in this manifestation of living out the gospel, which is a rare gift, I think, even in the church."

It shouldn't be, but I suppose, sadly enough, it is.

On another level, I suppose there's so much intimacy in my experience of prayer that I find the medium of electronic communication disruptive to my sense of piety. Then again, I've had some fairly intimate conversations with people over the years that were, in and of themselves, a form of prayer.

In fact, I often end conversations like that by saying, "I'll keep you in my prayers." And, I mean it. I do pray for that person or persons.

So, I ask myself, what's the difference?

I remember the time when a dear friend and priest colleague was dying of AIDS. Ms. Conroy and I had been schlepping from our home in East Orange to his apartment in Jersey City in order to care for him. There came a time, as the end approached, when he needed more than we could provide.

The care was difficult enough. The schlepping made it even more complicated.

Ms. Conroy finally had a conversation with him in which she laid out all the options, which included hospitalization with an eventual transfer to hospice and moving in with us. He decided he wanted to be with us.

About four days into round-the-clock care, assisted by four dear friends who came and also moved in with us in shifts, I found that we were still all exhausted. In the midst of it, I received a phone call from the Roman Catholic Monsignor who was the pastor at a Church in Newark and a dear friend of us both.

We chatted for a bit and wept with each other and then Monsignor said, "What you really need is prayer. Let's pray together, shall we?"

I don't know what it was that startled me about that. I mean, I had been praying. Just not with him. And, certainly not on the phone.

Before I could respond, he started, "In the Name of the Father, and the Son . . .Hello? Hello? . . .Are you still there?"

"Yes, Father," I said quietly, trying to figure out a response.

"Then, you know how this works. You're still a good Catholic girl. Let's pray together."

Suddenly, I was that 'good Catholic girl', blessing myself with an invisible rosary and saying with him, "In the Name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit . . . ." and then Monsignor began to pray.

I can't tell you what he said. I only felt myself bathed in a warm, comforting light that seemed to lift the weight off my shoulders. Before I knew it, he was saying a few 'Hail Mary's' and an 'Our Father' while I prayed along, in between choked sobs and blowing my nose.

When we finished, I hung up the phone and was flooded with a deep sense of gratitude.

Well, I was grateful and strangely embarrassed. I remember thinking, "I can't do that. I'm glad he did, but I don't think I could ever do that with others."

Well, since that experience, I have prayed with others on the phone, but it's always made me feel vaguely uncomfortable.

I think I'm more uncomfortable not knowing why I am uncomfortable than that I am uncomfortable praying with someone on the phone.

As I've thought about this over the last few days, I've also remembered a time when I had been ordained about a year. Just to make ends meet, I was working two jobs - one as the full time chaplain at The University of Lowell, the other as a part time Priest-In-Charge of St. David's, Salem, NH, just over the state line.

St. David's had a tradition - at least at that time - that, as people came up to the Communion Rail, they could, if they chose, also ask for laying on of hands and prayer. It was a small community, so it didn't take long. I just thought it was occasionally disruptive to the flow of the Eucharist and wondered why they didn't just have an "altar call" for healing prayer after everyone had received communion.

One morning, a woman came to the altar rail, received communion and then whispered in very distraught tones, "My husband was admitted to the hospital last night. He's had a massive heart attack. Please pray for him."

She was obviously upset and looked like she hadn't slept a wink all night. I was deeply moved and, as I prepared to put aside the patten and the wafers and center myself to lay my hands on her head and pray for her husband, I asked a simple question, "What is his name?"

Well! She became Very Angry. She snapped and hissed at me, "You don't know ANYTHING about prayer! You don't need to know his name in order to pray for him! You don't even know my name, do you? Just PRAY, will you?"

I was startled, but I collected myself quickly, put my hands on her head, took a deep breath, and prayed mightily for "this woman and her husband," after which she got up and left the church, presumably to return to her husband's bedside.

I later learned that she was a parishioner who hadn't been to church since I had arrived. "I think she has a problem with women priests," said my Senior Warden. "Don't take it personally."

Right! Nah, nothing personal. Just the core of who I am, I thought.

And... and...and... she was right. I didn't "need" a name to pray for someone. I mean, don't we pray for "the people in Haiti"? - or "Sudan"? - or "Australia"? We don't know each of their names, or the exact circumstances of each of their distress, but we pray for "them" all the same.

It's just that, in the way I pray with someone, I try to be as personal and as specific as I can. Not that I think it will give my prayer more "power" to heal specifically. It simply creates in me a greater sense of intimacy, which, for me anyway, is part of the experience of prayer.

The other thing is this: put very simply, I really don't know what I'm doing. I mean to say, I really don't know how prayer works. I only know that it does.

In saying, "prayer works" I do not mean that every prayer is answered the way I or the person who has requested prayer may have intended.

However, I don't think any prayer goes unanswered. Some will disagree with me on this, which is fine. I would challenge that person to tell me, then, how s/he thinks prayer works and how prayers are being answered. And then, prove it.

I don't think either one of us would be right or wrong. We certainly couldn't "prove" our different sides, empirically. It's just a different understanding of prayer, which, I think, is very personal.

Ultimately, I think that's part of how prayer works: Uniquely. Personally. And, at the same time, universally.

I say that I don't think any prayer goes unanswered because for me, prayer is a conversation with God. Meaning, there are two sides the the conversation and thus, two parts to prayer: my petition and the discernment of God's answer.

That last bit - discernment - is the hardest part of prayer, in my experience.

Sometimes, the answer is "Not yet." Other times, it's a flat out, "No." And sometimes, the answer is, "There's something else, some other way this situation can be used. You won't understand this right now and I'm sorry about that. Just know that I love you."

The problem is not with prayer. The problem is in not being willing - or able - to listen to and hear and discern the answer.

The other problem is time. Our sense of time is linear. God's is not. What may take a few years in our time is but a blink of an eye in God's time.

I think the best lesson I ever learned about prayer came when Mia, our youngest daughter, was about nine years old. I had set her up in the playroom and asked her to watch over Katie, another of our daughters - a profoundly disabled child - while I prepared supper.

Katie has Trisomy-21, sometimes known as Down's Syndrome - and has good receptive skills but seriously delayed communication skills - about at the level of an 18 month old. She can say a very few words, and uses 'sign language' to communicate other words, but she understands everything you say to her.

About ten minutes into chopping onions and garlic, Mia came into the kitchen, filled with all the drama only a nine year old can have.

"Ugh!" she said as she plopped her elbows on the counter and sank her face into her hands.

"What's wrong?" I asked, still chopping away.

"KATIE!' she said, completely exasperated.

"Why?" I asked, "What's wrong with Kate?"

"Well, sometimes, you know, talking with Katie is like praying to God."

I stopped chopping and listened. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you know, how, when you pray to God, like, you know God is listening to every word and God hears you? You just don't ever know what God is thinking? THAT's what it's like talking to Katie! It's like talking to God! It's so. . .so . . .sooOOoo frustrating!"

Ever since that moment, I've had this one image of God as a delightful, profoundly disabled Down's Syndrome child who hears everything, but simply can't always communicate to us in a way we understand.

I don't think you have to be, necessarily, a 'religious person' as Wikipedia claims, in order to pray. I think it does take many forms, like a "hymn, incantation, formal creedal statement, or a spontaneous utterance in the praying person."

How does it work, exactly? It's a mystery to me.

I only know that Alfred Lord Tennyson is right: "More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of."

It comes down to this, for me: It's less important to know how prayer works than the assurance of the knowledge that it does.

As I was writing that last sentence, my phone starting ringing. I'm sitting here, laughing out loud, all by myself.

Gotta go. It might be another opportunity to pray.

Or, it might be God, finally answering a prayer.

Hey, you never know.

The Leadership of Ducks

Say hello to one of my neighbors. His family name is "Hooded Merganser".

I call him Mr. Bill, short for William Morgan Hooded Merganser, XXII.

Or, it might well be Pete, or Larry, Byron or Maurice.

These days, there are as many as three dozen of these Hooded Mergansers who swim in the water in front of my house. They and their mates and brood of chicks.

You'll forgive me. It's hard to tell them apart.

This is Ms. Lillian Hooded Merganser.

Or, it could be Yvette, Loraine, Muriel or Gwen.

She keeps herself rather dowdy, like the other girls, but rather unlike their mates with their magnificent white heads.

I love the red tinge to the tuft of hair on her head. I wonder who does her hair. It's a wonderful, creative flourish of independence to an otherwise drab appearance - necessary, of course, when survival depends on your ability to "blend in".

They and their neighbors, the Wood Ducks, take regular early morning swims by the house. We've become acquainted enough over the past weeks and months that they no longer run from me when I appear on my deck to toss them some bread.











On your left is Mr. Frederick Barton Wood Duck, XXIV - "Fred" for short. On your right is his mate, Ms. Ethel.

The Wood Ducks and the Hooded Mergansers share the waterways and marshes here at Llangollen, swimming along with the chicks in their brood, searching in long dives under the cold, icy water for fish, or insects or any other aquatic life form.

While they've come to recognize me - I'm the odd, tall bird, bundled up but shivering in my bright red winter coat on the deck, who brings them something to eat - they are still very skittish about noises. They hate the sound of the door opening but are especially nervous about the "click" of the lock on the door.

I imagine it sounds to them like a rifle being cocked, which strikes immediate terror into their little hearts. They fly off in a great flurry and flutter of wings and water dripping off their webbed feet.

Can't say as I blame them. I don't know when hunting season is around here, exactly. It seems to me that I think it's over and then one morning, out of the blue, I will awaken at 5:30 AM to the sounds of gun fire ringing over the marsh.

The gulls, on the other hand, look at the ducks with utter and complete disdain, aloof and barely moving from their perch on the poles at the end of my dock.

What's fascinating to me about these two particular kinds of duck is that the babies swim with absolute abandon, disappearing in occasional long dives under the water in search of food.

The mama and papa ducks, however, are ever watchful. Especially the papa ducks. They turn their heads constantly - to the left, to the right - in constant surveillance for predators. They do take occasional long dives under the water in search of food, but as soon as they surface, they return to their vigilance.

What I find most endearing, however, is when they look back over their brood. Every now and again, when the chicks are taking too much time, or papa gets a little anxious about my red-coated presence, mama will continue to lead while papa swims around and back behind the chicks, closing in the circle and moving them along.

It doesn't matter whether one of the Wood Duck chicks has wandered into the Hooded Merganser clan or vise versa. If papa says it's time to scurry, it's time to put a move on, no matter who or what you are.

I know. It's instinct. Ducks aren't able to reason, much less think strategically, the way humans do.

Even so, I love the egalitarian quality of this duck life, at least as I've observed it in these two species. No one fetches any food for the leaders. They take care of themselves, right along with everyone else.

There don't seem to be any particular "perks" that come with the job of leadership. They simply do what they do because that's their job.

They aren't tribal - only caring for 'their kind'. While they are in the water, the elder Hooded Mergansers take care of the younger Wood Ducks and vise versa. That's what you do when someone is more vulnerable than you.

They aren't afraid to let someone else "take the wheel" so they can go back and check on the rest of the flock, keeping them all in the relative safety of a wide circle while giving them the illusion of absolute freedom.

Every now and again, you have to go back with your flock, checking in on them, in order to keep moving forward.

There's a lesson or two to be learned, with these wonderful creatures of the waterway and marshes, about leadership in community.

I find it ironic that those who speak loudest about the "natural order" of things are the very ones who define leadership as having power over, rather than serving and sharing power.

That's the way Jesus led. It's the way he taught his disciples to lead.

Why is it so hard for humans - especially those of the flock who call themselves "Christians" - to figure this out?

I think, perhaps, we need to be more "bird brained" in our leadership.

If we can't listen to The One we call "Rabbi", perhaps we might listen to others of God's creatures, who often lead and teach by simply living their lives, serving others as best they can.

Then again, there will always be gulls among us.

Dear Rowan

LETTER TO THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY

On December 7, 2010, the moderator of the No Anglican Covenant Coalition, the Revd. Dr. Lesley Fellows wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams on behalf of the No Anglican Covenant Coalition.

Since, after more than five weeks, no response has been forthcoming from the office of the archbishop, we have decided to make the letter public. The text is reproduced below. A PDF version of the letter is available from the No Anglican Covenant Web site.

7th December 2010

Dear Archbishop Rowan,

I am the Moderator of the International No Anglican Covenant Coalition, and I am writing to explain why our group is opposed to the Anglican Covenant. My hope is that through this correspondence, we may come to a better understanding of each other's approaches to the Anglican Covenant. These are some of our objections:

Firstly, the Covenant creates a two-or-more-tier Communion, as we know that some Provinces will not or cannot consent to it. This means that some Anglicans are 'in' the Communion, and some are less 'in'. There is no getting away from the feeling that the Covenant creates first- and second-class Christians. This in itself is unacceptable, but it also opens the door to some churches 'asking questions' about others if they perform 'controversial actions', ultimately leading to the imposition of 'relational consequences'. Hence, it favours the intolerant and the very conservative. Jim Naughton has said that the Covenant institutes "governance by hurt feelings". This seems counter to the gospel imperative of not judging others, but bearing with them and concentrating on the logs in one's own eye. A two-tier Communion does not represent unity.

Secondly, it seems unlikely that one can 'make forceful the bonds of affection'. "Where love rules, there is no will to power", Jung said. If we use force and coercion in our relationships, there is no true affection. A Covenant is made in joy at a time of trust - like a marriage. The Anglican Covenant is in reality a contract between parties where the trust has broken down. It may seem to you that this is the only way forward, but a better option is to remain a single-tier Communion, allow people to leave if they must, but keep the door open for their return. Any alternative position cedes too much power to those willing to intimidate by threatening to walk away.

Thirdly, in many countries, such as England, centralised institutions are breaking down and being replaced by networks. There is a great suspicion of hierarchical structures and rules that are enforced from above, particularly when the central authority is both physically and culturally distant. The Fresh Expressions movement is successful because it recognises this. The Anglican Communion, which is a fellowship of autonomous churches, is well placed to thrive in the challenges of this age. If we adopt the Covenant, then we will be less able to be mission-focussed in our own culture because we will be constrained by the Communion's centralised decision-making. One might say that Communion churches are on separate tectonic plates - the plates of modernism, postmodernism, and perhaps even pre-modernism. They are moving apart, and if we try to bind them together more tightly, then schism will surely occur. At this point in history, we need more flexible relationships, not a tightening of bonds.

I implore you to reconsider your support of the Anglican Covenant. I have the greatest respect for you as a person of God and for the role of Archbishop of Canterbury. However, I feel the Covenant is in a way like suicide - it is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Moreover, it institutionalises inequality and judgementalism. In addition, I believe it will not work and will itself cause, rather than prevent, schism. Let us concentrate on things that bring us together, such as mission, worship and prayer, and let us agree to differ on issues that tear us apart, not judge who is wrong and who is right, who is 'in and who is 'out'.

Our group would very much like to begin a dialogue with you. We have the same aims of strengthening love and unity within the Communion and enabling out churches to go forward in mission, even if we have currently come to radically different conclusions about how to achieve those aims. We hope very much to hear from you.

With very best wishes

Rev'd Dr Lesley Fellows
Moderator, No Anglican Covenant Coalition

Westfields
Church Lane
Ludgershall
Buckinghamshire
HP18 9NU

Full disclosure: I am a member of the NACC, and I approve this message.

Keep the 'elf' in 'self'

When I was getting ready to go off to seminary, my rector gave me the best piece of advice which has stayed with me all these many years later.

He said, "You really have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Which is probably a good thing. When things get tough - and they will get tough - try to remember this: "Keep the 'elf' in 'self'."

My bishop said a very similar thing. He gave me something to hang on my wall. It was made of cloth and held together by a piece of wood at the top and at the bottom. There was a very colorful rainbow stenciled on the top, and these words stenciled across the bottom:

"If you are being run out of town, get in front of the crowd and make it look like a parade."

I got the message. When in ordained ministry - especially as leader of a community of faith - a sense of humor is probably the most important thing you can have in your back pocket.

They were both right. Even though I had been around the church for most of my life, when I began my seminary career, I was terribly naive about the institutional church. Surprisingly so.

Which, as my rector said, was probably a good thing.

If I knew then what I know now. . . well, I probably wouldn't be here right now. Nor would I have learned half the things I know and have become half the person I am today.

In anticipation of my time as Proctor Fellow (or, 'Scholar', as they are apparently calling it now), I've been thinking about the questions seminarians might ask of me. That has lead me to think about the questions I had when I was first in seminary which followed me until I was just about to graduate and be ordained.

Actually, the 'burning issue' at that time was the ordination of women. When I entered seminary, it had only been seven years since the church had made canonical revisions to allow women to be "regularly" ordained.

Indeed, I was the fifth and the last woman my bishop ordained to the priesthood before he retired. Mind you, he had voted against the ordination of women and made impassioned speeches against such "theological innovations" on the floor of the House of Bishops.

Just as we were - or were not - making the adjustment to "the new" (1979) prayer book, and the presence of women at the altar, the AIDS crisis hit.

I still have my button that says, "Our church has AIDS."  It was a scandalous statement to have made at that time. 

I clearly remember Ms. Conroy raising her voice to me - which she rarely does (I'm much more often the culprit) - about my resume and CDO Profile. I had included both my work with Integrity as well as my work with the Boston Ecumenical AIDS Task Force.

Please Note: it was a 'Task Force'. As if we had a task to do and, when it was all over, we could all go back to 'normal' again. Guess I wasn't the only one who was naive, eh?

She begged me to remove those two references from my resume. "You're one of the first 100 women to be ordained in the church. You'll have a hard enough time getting called anywhere. For goodness sake, don't wave the 'lesbian' and the 'gay' flag when you've already got a red flag on the playing field."

In one of the rare times when I have not taken her advice, I kept it in.

We laugh about it now. It wasn't funny, then.

Here's the burning question I remember asking, and how I would answer today, twenty-five years later. Since I'm a woman,  and the time being what it was, I asked every male and female, lay and ordained:

What advice would you give to a newly ordained woman in ministry?

The following will probably appeal mostly to women, but I think there are enough corollaries to keep a male audience attentive.

First thing: Understand and accept - right now - that you will be watched CAREFULLY. Everything you do. Everything you say - and lots of things you didn't. Everything you wear.

So, first: women, get yourself a good bra.

I'm serious.

There's nothing more distracting than to watch a woman preside at Eucharist and begin the Sursum Corda ". . . .Lift up your hearts . . ." while she adjusts the straps on her bra. I have seen this happen too often not to say something.

And men - whether you wear tighty-whiteys or boxers, make sure you "adjust" yourself before you leave the sacristy. The altar will not hide what you are doing. We see you. We know. And, it's not a pretty picture.

People will watch every movement you make. Indeed, Ms. Conroy once said to me, "We see you, you know. We know when you are 'counting us'. Stop it. Lead us in prayer."

Easy for her to say.

If you're going to wear lipstick - I do, otherwise people ask me if I'm okay - make sure you blot it carefully before you put on your alb and certainly before you leave the sacristy. The 'old school' Directoresses of Altar Guilds are still out there - no matter how old or young they are - and they won't hesitate to place a big pile of lipstick-stained purificators in your mail cubby with a sweet little note that says, "You stained them. You clean them."

By the same token, I know one male priest who was given a box of colored handkerchiefs by the Altar Guild Directoress after a few parishioners had falsely accused him of using the purificators to blow his nose. True story.

Develop your own style of dress. Wear what you want, not what you think is expected of you - except, of course, in those situations like funerals where you want to be formal and respectful. You don't want the attention on you but on what's happening in the liturgy.

It's not about you. It's about who you represent.

When I learned that a few of the older folks at the 8 AM service were distracted at Eucharist by my red nail polish, I stopped wearing colored nail polish, unless I'm on vacation. It's a small sacrifice I'm willing to make.

I know some women who take off their rings before presiding at Eucharist because they don't want to be a distraction. That's fine. I don't. Won't. Just me. You'll figure out for yourself what works for you.

Here's a pet peeve - clergy who wear blue tooth phones on their ear or have their cell phones in their pocket. I actually know of one clergy person who wears her blue tooth - in procession and during the service - and has been known to have phone conversations while doing ablutions.

This is as directive as I'm ever going to get: Don't. Do. That. Ever. Okay?

Long, dangling earrings are fine, but they do tend to make an annoying sound as they hit your plastic clerical collar. To each her own, but don't say I didn't tell you.

Bottom line: dress like the person you are. Know that, whether or not you intend it, what you wear makes a statement about who you are and what you think of your ministry.

It also says something about authority - which is another subject for another time, but it's more important than you know.

Personally, nothing makes me cringe faster than seeing a woman in a black pants suit with a clergy shirt and a 'Roman' tab-style collar, but if that's who you are, then bet the absolute best at it. If it's authentic, ultimately, it will carry the day and people will come to accept that.

Or, not.

If you are true to yourself, at the end of the day if you can still look in the mirror and like what you see, it won't really matter much.

I've been accused of dressing like a "crunchy-granola Earth-mother". I've also been described as being a "gay man in drag". I don't think I look like either, but that's not the point. That's how some perceive me. I've learned that, ultimately, it tells me something more about them than it does me.

By the way, I still have the pair of black penny loafers which Ms. Conroy bought for me as an ordination present. She got them as a wee bit of a joke because, at one point, I fretted that I wouldn't be taken seriously unless I wore what seemed to be the "standard" for Episcopal clergy.

The loafers are still in excellent shape, twenty-five years later, which tells the story of how infrequently I've actually worn them.

One quick story: As I was preparing to head back to Maine for my "candidacy hearings" - yes, that's what they called them in those days - I ran into Sue Hiatt, one of my professors who was also one of the Philadelphia Eleven. She noted my anxiety and asked what was going on.

Perhaps it was because, in retrospect, a silly question to ask - or, perhaps it was because Sue was somewhat renowned for being a rather 'dowdy' dresser that she was surprised by my one question: "What should I wear?"

Always kind and gentle with a marvelous subtle sense of humor, she chuckled and said, "Well, don't wear a wool plaid skirt, a button down shirt and a cardigan sweater, or argyle knee socks and penny loafers." Which was exactly what she had on at the moment.

After we laughed, she said, "Dress like a priest - your understanding of who a priest is and what a priest is and what a priest does - without the collar. Let them see you. Let them see the priest in you."

She was great. I miss her, so. Somehow, being back on campus won't be the same without her gentle but strong presence.

It was Sue who told me about HALT. Do not make a decision or respond to anyone when you're Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired. HALT. It sounds trite, but it is good advice.

Remember that while a priest has "life tenure" in parochial ministry, you are not necessarily called to a community for life. You are called to lead a congregation at a particular point in their life cycle, to use the skills and talents God has given you to build on what your predecessor has done and to take the community to the next place they need to be in their community faith life."

It's important to recall the words from that song, "The Gambler": You gotta know when to hold 'em. Know when to fold 'em. Know when to walk away. Know when to run. You never count your money while you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin', when the deal is done."

And, if you do have to run, remember the words of my ordaining bishop and "get in front of the crowd and make it look like a parade."

I've blogged on his advice before, but it bears repeating what he said about priesthood: "

A priest is, first and foremost, a Christian, and a Christian is, first and foremost, a grateful person. The life and witness, the ministry and mission of a priest is to be an outward and visible sign and symbol of a grateful heart - whose life is a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for all God has done."

"Once you understand your priesthood - whether or not you are ordained - you are also compelled, when required, to be a prophet and a pastor. Ordained priests dedicate their lives to being a manifestation - a living epiphany - of a Eucharistic life of the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving."

Probably the best advice I got came from Katie Sherrod. It was at another time and in a different circumstance, but it was so good, I printed it out and still have it hanging above my desk here at Llangollen:

"Tell them the truth as you always have, hold fast to what you know of love, and live as if the church were really what it says it is.

Be safe. Take care of yourself. Try to have regular massages.

Be with people you love as often as you can.

Ignore the small-minded, the sleek and the petty.

Stoke furry animals who love you.

Keep fresh flowers around.

And, remember, before every human being go 10,000 angels crying, "Make way for the image of God."

Which brings me to another point: find an "escape hatch". Someone to whom you can address your questions and concerns - no matter how seemingly insignificant. Maybe a few someones who are not part of your community of faith.

I don't know what I would have done, over the years, without an Anam Cara (my Spiritual Director), a therapist, a clergy support group, a parochial supervisor, a massage therapist, and a group of friends who really don't care as much about the institutional church as they do our friendship.

An "escape hatch" can also be a place you can go to in order to connect with your core again. Maybe it's the quiet of a chapel, or a place in the woods or by the ocean or in the desert. Maybe it's your bedroom or in your car, where you can roll up the windows, turn up the heat or AC, and sing your favorite songs at the top of your voice as you drive absolutely nowhere.

An escape hatch is a place where you can let it all go. Because, if you hold onto half the stuff that comes at you in the ordinary course of ministry - from the pew to the purple shirts - it will drive you absolutely 'round the bend.

It's okay to get angry. It's what you do with the anger that's important. Anger is a secondary emotion. It's always in reaction or response to something that's really important to you - something in your past or something in your present.

If you can visualize anger as a large rock, in your mind's eye pick it up and look under it. You'll probably find something that's very, very important. Deal with that first before you attend to the problem which mad you so angry in the first place.

Having said that, it's also important to cut yourself some slack. You're not always going to be able to do that. It's not bad, once in a while, to growl. Even Mama animals do that with their cubs. It's sometimes important to let folks know that they've crossed a line - and, that you're human, too.

Oh, some will never forgive you for that - for being human - but, as my Grandmother used to say, "That's on their soul, not yours."

A spiritual director once told me that some people are like "Divine Sandpaper." They are people God sends into your life specifically to "rub you the wrong way".

She said, "How else would you be able to get rid of all the layers of protection you've built up over the years of developing a 'thick skin' and find your 'natural grain'? How else would you be able to shine with your own natural glow?"

Even so, in the process of being "worked over" and "sanded down", you'll need to scream, occasionally, and let it all go.

When you do let it all go, I hope you'll be able to see what is at your core - who is at your core - who has been there with you, all along.

Laughing with you as you roll your eyes and blot your lipstick and adjust your bra strap before leaving the sacristy to preside at Holy Eucharist.

Weeping with you when someone hurts your feelings with a thoughtless, careless, mean-spirited comment and helping you to see that this person was trying to tell you something, not so much about yourself, but about how hurt s/he feels inside. Maybe if s/he hurts you, you'll know just how much s/he's hurting.

Inspiring you to take creative risks for the gospel - or simply trying to help a congregation grow and deepen and move along in their faith development - even when your leadership thinks you're being "insensitive to the needs of some of the older members" or "not understanding the community you serve."

Helping you to move away from looking for someone to "save" you - the bishop, your senior warden, your spouse, or, God forbid, alcohol or food or other substances that change your perception of who is really in charge and the different nature of spiritual and institutional authority.

If you keep Jesus at the center of your life - ordained and private - you'll not only be an effective priest, you'll be an effective Christian.

One theology of priesthood holds that you are ordained to be an "alter Christus" - another Christ re-presentative - at the altar and in the pulpit, in the sacristy and the vestry room, at the bedside and in the nursing home, and anywhere you go with anyone you may or may not know.

Here's the great mystery of priesthood: You can't be that "alter Christus" unless you are authentically yourself.

You are ordained to hold up the 'ordinances' of the church, but you were baptized first to "grow into the full stature of Christ". Don't ever forget that. Probably more important than hanging your ordination certificate on your office wall is to keep your baptismal certificate clearly visible.

There's more stuff - practical, pragmatic stuff about administration and management of staff, etc., but that's where I begin - with the mundane and miniscule things which, if you don't pay attention to them, can loom large and trip you up when you least expect it.

Unless, of course, you keep the 'elf' in self.

And, be grateful.

EDS: Why, yes, you can go home.

Stained glass window, Tyler Reading Room, EDS.

In the midst of all that is going on, locally and nationally, I have been getting ready to begin the Proctor Fellowship at The Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA for the Spring Semester, 2011.

The weather has conspired to change my original time line, which has been moved up a day. So, now it's 8 days and counting. One week plus one day. Today. So, one week from tomorrow, I will be moving into my apartment on campus.

Who, me? Excited? However did you guess?

It's been 25 years since I graduated from EDS. Twenty. Five. Years. !!!!!

I know it's cliche but I can honestly say that I don't know where the time has gone. As long as I'm sojourning here for a moment in the Land of Cliche, let me just say that the time has simply flown by.

"Time like an ever rolling stream bears all her sons (and daughters) away. They fly, forgotten, as a dream dies at the opening day."

Well, I've not forgotten. And, I am delighted that EDS has taken the time to remember me. I'm even more delighted that they have not let the dream of excellent theological education die after I flew away to other Vineyards of the Lord to apply the things I learned there.

Wasn't it just yesterday that I was sitting in the refectory (now, called a cafeteria - sigh!), having conversations with the Proctor Fellow who was there when I was a bright-eyed, all full-of-myself seminarian?

I used to think I had all the answers to life's problems. Now, I'm much more interested in the questions of life's problems. That's because I have discovered that life's problems are not about finding answers. It's what Rilke said about being faithful to living the question.

I think I get that, now.

I remember "my" Proctor Fellow being a chap from Australia who was "particularly interested," he said - in the language of the academy where one is, of course, supposed to be interested in everything but having "particular" interests - in Christology.

I'm hoping to enroll in Patrick Cheng's course on "Contemporary Christologies" and either Bill Kondrath's "Creativity, Change and Conflict" or Ed Rodman's "Liberation Preaching". Actually, I've known Ed for years and, in my experience, just about everything that comes out of his mouth is a sermon about liberation. I'd pay solid money just for the privilege of sitting at his feet and listening to him talk.

Then again, Kwok Pui Lan's, "Spirituality for the Contemporary World" is very attractive to me, knowing, as I do, of her work. She's simply brilliant. "Prophets and Evangelists" also looks very interesting, but the course catalog doesn't yet list a faculty person.

There are also two courses at Harvard - just a 15 minute walk from my apartment - that I'm considering, which I can take through EDS's membership in the BTI (Boston Theological Institute).

I will want to take a look at all the required readings for each of the courses, which will tell me a great deal more about what I can expect.

I'm sure to learn more when I get there next week. Eight days from today. One week from tomorrow. But, who's counting?

As I read over the courses being offered this semester, I feel like a hungry person in front of a banquet table. I want to run wildly into all of the courses listed in the catalog and grab great handfuls of everything.

If asked, I guess I would have to say that I have a "particular interest" in the course "Contemporary Christologies". It's no secret that I love Jesus and I'm keenly interested in ways to talk about The Risen Christ with a generation that knows him, for the most part, only in the extremes.

Either he's the "Jeee-sssusss" of the Fundamental/Pentecostal/Evangelicals who casts out demon spirits of disease (and "dis-eases" like homosexuality) and magically answers prayers, but only those of "the righteous" - Or - His name is sung or chanted softly and mysteriously among billowing clouds of incense and contained within a round, tasteless wafer and a chalice of bad tasting wine.

No wonder people are either confused or anxious about Jesus. Our leaders are, too. Hence, I suspect, there's at least some "creativity, change and conflict" in Christian community.

I don't hear a lot of preaching about Jesus in Episcopal Churches. Oh, I hear a great deal of God-talk and a fair amount about the Holy Spirit, but not a great deal about Jesus, except in exigetical terms, wherein the situation of the gospel story is reviewed and critiqued.

More than one preacher I've listened to never mentions His name in a sermon. I've heard certain priests preach on the Hebrew Scripture, the Psalm and even the Collect of the day, with maybe - maybe - a passing reference to "today's scripture". But, not once have I heard from these clergy a sermon on the Gospel for the day, and certainly never a mention of the name of Jesus from the pulpit.

I can't say what's going on in pulpits of other Christian denominations - my experience is pretty much limited to Episcopal churches in the Northeast - but I find myself feeling a vague but growing sense of discomfort about what is beginning to feel like a trend or a style in preaching.

Sermons are beginning to feel more like a "reflection" I might read in a book or a religious magazine, or a "talk" I could hear in a Unitarian Universalist Church.

Not that there's a thing in the world wrong with either, God knows.

I once heard Dominic Crossan - at a Kellogg Lecture, in fact, at EDS a few years ago - slap his head and say, "It's a parable, stupid." He was saying that, when Jesus spoke, he was preaching a parable about the Torah, the scriptures of his day. Crossan's point was that most of the gospels are parables about Jesus that were written by his disciples - a sermon on the sermons of Jesus.

I think all good sermons do that. They answer the question that has been hijacked by the Evangelicals: "What would Jesus do?" They answer the question that is in the hearts of many in the pews: "Where can we find - where can we see Jesus - today? In our world? In our time?"

A good preacher will take the message of Jesus and His disciples in the scripture and preach modern parables. They not only have to be more than just a "nice reflection," but it has to challenge the listeners to some kind of action - even if only by raising provocative questions.

"Faith, if it hath not works is dead." James 2:17. Or, in the Canon P.D. Quirk translation of the KJV: "Do not leteth the grace grow under thy feet."

That message/sermon has to come from a place of truth in the preacher, or the congregation will sniff it out in less than a heart beat, and the preacher will not have any credibility.

Which is probably why Jesus said, over and over and over again, "Be not afraid." It's what every heavenly messenger says before s/he opens her mouth to tell you what God is about to ask of you.

It is a fearsome thing - something that still, after 25 years, causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble - to be an "alter Christus" in the pulpit or at the altar. One of the first pulpits I preached in - at Christ Church, Hyde Park, MA - had a small brass plaque attached to the stand where the preacher places her manuscript. It said, simply, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus. John 12:21".

That, I think, is what people really hunger for. To see Jesus. The Rabbi. Our Great High Priest. The One who has come to show us The Way to feed ourselves and each other "from the riches of His grace and strengthen (us) to glorify God in this life and the life to come". (BCP 531)

If we do not break open The Word as we do The Bread, how will the people of Word and Sacrament be nourished and fed?

I'm just wondering out loud here if part of the reason the church is in decline is that we've lost our center. Which, for my money anyway, is Jesus.

If we don't talk about Him, if we don't listen for and preach a relevant message about Jesus for God's people in today's world... well...how is it that we are to bring His mission into the world and "restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ"? (BCP 855)

Yes, personal piety is important - which is what I hear in the messages of most sermons - but it's the corporate nature of Christianity that is critically important for today's increasingly isolated world. I'm feeling, in these sermons, that something is a bit out of balance between the two.

Perhaps, in The Episcopal Church, anyway, it is a reaction to the evangelical seizure, capture and hostage-taking of Jesus, the ransom for which is the transformation of all of our images of God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit (Ghost) into "their" images, and the conversion of the self into the ideal image that "they" have for us.

Their rules. No exceptions.

We don't want to be like "them", God knows - we of the most democratic religion in all of Western Christendom, who rest the theological foundations of our faith on the three-legged stool of scripture, tradition and reason.

We who are part of the "roomiest room" of all religions have heard far too many doors slam and lock shut as evangelicals and conservative "orthodox" alike hang signs on them that say "Boys Only" or "No homosexuals" or "Only really, really clean souls allowed".

In any event, I'm keenly interested in how to speak of Jesus in a contemporary world. Actually, I think I always have been. I'm still learning, thanks to the intellectual curiosity and quest for life-long learning which was instilled and nurtured in me at EDS.

I suspect the way to do that is to first listen to what is being said in a course like "Contemporary Christologies" so that I can learn the language and images and metaphors of the next generation.

I'm looking forward to keeping my mouth shut and my ears and eyes open. Well, in class, mostly (I can hear you giggling. Some of you know me too well.). I am also looking forward to conversations with seminarians and faculty in the refectory and classrooms and hallways.

I've been thinking, some, about how I might respond to some of the very questions I asked - in my time as a seminarian at EDS - of the Proctor Fellow and other visiting clergy who would stop by the seminary or audit some of the classes with us. What will I say when some of those questions - or ones I haven't yet anticipated - are asked of me?

I actually walk around the house and jot stuff down. I love that I have a voice memo 'app' on my iPhone which I use when an idea comes to me in the car.

I am collecting some of my thoughts, for another post at another time.

Right now, my energies are consumed by the excitement and anticipation of going back "home". To one of my spiritual "homes". To one of the places that nurtured me and fed me and gave me the foundation for 25 years of most an amazing priesthood.

Yes, you can go home. It won't be the same. I know. I'm looking forward to giving back a little of what I took from what EDS so generously offered.

Because, well, it's home. It's one of the places where I was empowered and equipped to do the work of the Jesus I know and love. It's where a piece of the heart of this priest is and will always be.

I am so very, deeply, profoundly grateful.

Dear Anonymous

My post yesterday about the tragic events that transpired in Tucson on Saturday and some of the comments I have received from you provided all I really need to know about the vitriol and violent rhetoric that has dominated our cultural discourse.

You have dismissed me with remarks that attempt to make me feel that my opinions were at best uninformed at at the very least.... oh, what's the word you used?... ah, yes...."stupid".

You have chided me with statements that want me to believe that somehow I am not "tough enough" to take the reality of our world. That, if I just "walk it off" and "rub some dirt in it," I'll be able to play the game with the big boys.

You have questioned my intelligence, my theology and my sanity.

You continue to repeat your belief that "Never Retreat. Reload" is not a violent statement, apparently oblivious to the fact that repeating an untruth at ever increasing decibels does not make it true.

You can't understand how I can look at Sarah Palin's web page and see a target over the twenty districts that voted for Health Care Reform while even a blind fool can see that it's a surveyor's symbol - despite the fact that Palin's language on that page includes words like "salvo" and "fight".

You become absolutely enraged when I simply can't understand that the vitriol and violent rhetoric comes from the Left, too, even though I can show you fifty examples from the Right for every one that comes from the Left.

You don't want to hear that. You seem so desperate to defend your right to Free Speech that you can't hear my right to express my opinion and perspective which differ from yours. Which is really what the First Amendment is all about - not the right to say absolutely anything you want, even when that fans the flames of anger or, in the case of that poor, delusional soul who shot all those people in Tucson, pushes people who are emotionally and psychologically fragile deeper into the darkness of their mental illness.

You don't want to hear that there are consequences - often tragic consequences - for violent, vitriolic language and we have to hold ourselves, and others, accountable for those consequences.

Oh, and to the person who told me that I ought to "shut my filthy lesbian mouth" and that all I needed was to have you come and show me "what a real man is all about" - you have been blocked from my email and blog. I have also reported you to Google and Blogger, with a copy of your post to me.

That won't change you or your opinions - that's really not my goal, anyway - but it made be feel a bit safer.

So, as Joe Biden would say, here's the deal.

First, I want you to read the Comment Code of Conduct which appears above the box where you leave your comments. I borrowed it from (and attributed it to) Sojourners. I'll reproduce it here - just in case you missed it:

I will express myself with civility, courtesy, and respect for every member of this online community, especially toward those with whom I disagree—even if I feel disrespected by them. (Romans 12:17-21)

I will express my disagreements with other community members' ideas without insulting, mocking, or slandering them personally. (Matthew 5:22)

I will not exaggerate others' beliefs nor make unfounded prejudicial assumptions based on labels, categories, or stereotypes. I will always extend the benefit of the doubt. (Ephesians 4:29)

I understand that comments reported as abusive are reviewed by the Blog Owner and are subject to removal. Repeat offenders will be blocked from making further comments. (Proverbs 18:7)

If you can't abide by this code, don't bother to leave a comment. If you do anyway, I will not publishing your post. Indeed, you should know that it gives me great delight to hit "delete" before I get past the second or third sentence of your post.

If you continue, I will block you and forward your comments to Google and Blogger with a formal complaint.

If you have a difficult truth to tell and are unable to leave your identity, I understand completely and I appreciate your contribution to the conversation. However, I ask that you abide by the Code of Conduct.

If you leave a questionable comment and I can't trace your identity, I will not post your comment.

In conclusion, I urge you to read "Surely Some Revelation Is at Hand" by Steve Almond, which, from my perspective, is the best I've read on this terrible tragedy.

Here's part of his analysis, which is startling in its clarity:

It has nothing to do with politics. It has to do with the capacity for moral self-reflection. What happens when a large and well-armed portion of our citizenry can no longer apologize? When humility becomes another form of humiliation? Their heroes exhort them: Never retreat. Reload.

The young man with the gun, in a final note to friends, put it like this:

"Please don’t be mad at me… I cannot rest"

He seemed to recognize that he was going to do wrong. But he couldn’t stop himself.

He was not merely following orders. He was attempting to construct a world in which it was bearable to live. When this became impossible, he sought to die for a noble cause.

Here's the quote I want to highlight, because it resonates with my experience of your words to me:

"The more hysterical reactions will come from those who feel themselves implicated, who fear the great con of their professions exposed. They will react with absurd rituals of denial, as if, after all their violent agitation, they are the ones being fired upon, the victims of some vast and unending conspiracy."

I wish you well, dear Anonymous. I wish you peace - that peace of God which passes all understanding.

I trust you will join me in prayers for all the victims in Tucson, for all those who died, for all those who grieve their loss, for the residents of Tucson, as well as for this nation.

Oh, I'll keep writing my opinions which express my particular perspective. You haven't stopped me. But, since we won't be talking again this is goodbye.

You may not have left your name, but I know it. We all do.

Your name is Legion.

It's not the bottom, its the gap

Six people are dead, including a Federal Judge, a nine year old girl and a 79 year old woman. It has been reported that as many as 20 people were shot, fourteen of them are critically wounded - including Representative Gabrielle Giffords.

It happened outside a supermarket in Tucson, Arizona on a crisp, clear Saturday morning. A motive for the shooting has yet to have been determined. The shooter is said to have been a "deranged young man" who acted alone.

Everyone on both sides of the aisle is, of course, decrying the senseless violence. Republicans are scrambling to distance themselves from the folks on the fringe while some Democrats are seizing the opportunity to foist them on their own petard.

Yes, there is a direct link between the rhetoric of violence and acts of violence. That point is so obvious to me it boggles my mind to think that there are some - apparently a great number - who actually don't get it.

This quote from this morning's NY Times editorial clearly summaries the problem for me:

"It is facile and mistaken to attribute this particular madman’s act directly to Republicans or Tea Party members. But it is legitimate to hold Republicans and particularly their most virulent supporters in the media responsible for the gale of anger that has produced the vast majority of these threats, setting the nation on edge."

Of course, most of the people who are Tea Party members don't read the NY Times. They are encouraged by folks like Mrs. Palin to distrust the "mainstream media" and get all their information from Fox News Service.

However, "mainstream" Republicans do read the NY Times - at least, many I know do - and I can't help but think that this is as serious a 'wake up call' for them as it is for any anyone else on any side of any aisle who fans the flames of anger in this country - or anywhere else.

Images such as the one to your immediate right have to stop.

Yes, you read that right.

It's a "Liberal Hunting License Sticker" being sold at a place called the "Patriot Shop" and goes for a mere $3.25.

The add declares:

Liberal hunting season has been declared. Get your permit today!

"Liberal Hunting License -- 2009-2013 -- No Bag Limit -- Tagging Not Required."

Measures 3-3/4" x 3-3/4"

*Disclaimer: For novelty purposes only.

"Novelty"?????

Since when has declaring open season on liberals - or any human being - been funny?

I suppose this little note at the end of the page makes it alright:

"All purchases at PatriotShop.US support our Mission of Service to America's Armed Services, and help ensure that The Patriot Post is distributed to hundreds of thousands of military personnel and students without a fee. The Patriot receives no corporate, foundation, political or special interest funding. Our mission and operations are funded by — and depend entirely upon — the financial support of American Patriots like YOU!"

There now, don't you feel better? Doesn't that just make you feel 'red, white and blue' all over?

Violence seems to be an increasing part of the American culture. It's not just post 9/11. I was a young student in middle school when President John F. Kennedy was shot. That was soon followed by the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy. It was a terrible time in our history - one I had hoped we had learned from and would never happen again.

So, why doesn't this image on Sarah Palin's web page not raise at least an eyebrow of concern? It's entitled "Don’t Get Demoralized! Get Organized! Take Back the 20!"

Is a visual image of Palin's famous line, "Don't Retreat. Reload."

If you look closely (you can make the image larger by clicking on it), you will see the name of Representative Gabrielle Giffords in the cross hairs of the target.

Would the fact that Giffords was once a Republican but became a Democrat have anything to do with this? No? How about that she's a woman and is Jewish? Nah!

Perhaps I'm being too facile - but probably not mistaken, especially in terms of what seems to fire the bigotry and racism and anger and hatred of those on the fringes of sanity.

While the Palin Political Machine is exhausting itself trying to back peddle away from even a whiff of any intent to do violence (they have, apparently, taken down the page) to any of the "targeted" legislators who voted for Health Care Reform, this sentence from the website can not be easily dismissed,

"This is just the first salvo in a fight to elect people across the nation who will bring common sense to Washington. Please go to sarahpac.com and join me in the fight."

John Cole perhaps said it best,

"The point we have been trying to make for the last couple of years is that Republicans need to stop whipping up crazy people with violent political rhetoric. This is really not a hard concept to follow. There are crazy people out there. Stop egging them on."

On January 5th, The Rolling Stone website posted an essay by Matt Taibbi entitled, "The Crying Shame of John Boehner"

There is a bone-chilling piece wherein Taibbi reports an exchange between Boehner and Ohio Democrat, Steve Driehaus after Boehner suggested that by voting for Obamacare, Driehaus "may be a dead man". Taibbi writes:

"Driehaus is quick to point out that he doesn't think Boehner meant to urge anyone to violence. "But it's not about what he intended — it's about how the least rational person in my district takes it. We run into some crazy people in this line of work."

Driehaus says Boehner was "taken aback" when confronted on the floor, but never actually said he was sorry: "He said something along the lines of, 'You know that's not what I meant.' But he didn't apologize."

Political rhetoric is notoriously (and, unnecessarily) filled with vitriol. Passion is okay. It's fine. It's important. It's expected, actually. But, vitriol begins to cross the line of decency and begins to enter a danger zone of violence.

There is something different, however, about this particular moment of violence in our history.

I believe we have created our own culture of terrorism.

Blogs and radio talk shows and cable television programs exploit the dark visions of political extremists for their own profit and political gain.

That's how terrorism works. Terrorists always exploit the poor. Why not, the thinking goes. Everyone else does.

They have a point.

"When and if fascism comes to America it will not be labeled 'made in Germany' it will not be marked with a swastika; it will not even be called fascism; it will be called, of course, 'Americanism."

Those are the words of Professor Halford E. Luccock of the Divinity School of Yale University in a sermon he delivered at Riverside Church.

That was 1938.

The short hand version, attributed to Sinclair Lewis is “When fascism comes to America, it will come wrapped in the flag and waving a cross”.

Many people are saying that, as a country, we have hit bottom. I beg to differ. I don't think we have. I think - fear - we may have to sink even lower before we find the soul that we have lost.

Which is why I'm not as concerned about the bottom as I am the gap.

The economic disparity in this country grows larger every day.

It will get worse, I fear.

In a BBC radio broadcast last night, one reporter mentioned that the unemployment rate in the US has finally begun to decline, but noted - as only someone who is not an American could - that this may well be due to the fact that many of those who are unemployed have simply stopped looking for jobs.

I think he's onto something more than just clever "outsider" rhetoric.

Poverty has a way of eroding the soul. Despair has a singular ability to distort and color reality in dark, depressing shades of gloom and doom. It becomes its own swirling vortex from which even the strongest have difficulty emerging.

When those who are emotionally unstable are also affected by poverty. . .and when gun control is so lax in this country that even a person known to be emotionally unstable as to have been kicked out of his college program can still buy a gun. . . and when political vitriol is seemingly inescapable in print, audio and visual and electronic media. . . .well, the only thing surprising about the shooting in Arizona is that it didn't happen sooner.

Pima County Sheriff Charles Dupnik said it best,

"I think it’s time as a country we need to do a little soul searching because I think that the vitriolic rhetoric that we hear day in and day out from the people in the radio business, and some people in the T.V. business, and what we see on T.V. and how are youngsters are being raised. It may be free speech but it does not come without consequences. Arizona has become the Mecca of prejudice and bigotry."

The good Sheriff is absolutely right. Soul searching is exactly what we need to do. We have lost the soul of this country and things will not change until we find it again.

I think that begins with holding ourselves accountable for allowing political vitriol such as the ones I've sited here.

Yes. It starts with me and it starts with you. We can not sit still while this insanity swirls around us. As we used to say, back in the late 60s, "If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem."

Then, we hold accountable every other public and political figure who uses violent language, imagery and/or metaphor for political gain or financial profit.

I think a fitting tribute and legacy to Christina Taylor Green, the nine year old girl who was killed in Tucson while seeing Representative Giffords, would be a bill that would hold all public figures and politicians accountable for violent rhetoric and imagery. All. Of. Them.

And... and... and... as we're doing that, we put every effort, every energy into closing the ever-widening gap between the rich and the poor.

Jesus said, "The poor will always be with you."

That's as much a statement of fact as it is a call to service.

Let's put down the guns, and the gun metaphors, and get on with closing the gap between the rich and the poor.

Then, and only then - in those acts of kindness and mercy and justice - might we be able to find the soul we have lost.

The Reason for the Season

I am, this morning, trying to get my head wrapped around what happened yesterday in Tucson.

While our family gathered to celebrate Little Christmas, we were 'tuned into' each other and 'tuned out' the rest of the world.

We had made it through the snow and ice to be together - the longest trip was four hours and 20 minutes. One of our sons in law took his truck with a snowplow on the front and made sure the neighbors were plowed out.

He's such a good man.

We opened presents while we munched on all sort and manner of cheeses and humus and crackers and such.

The children were all pretty well behaved, owing, perhaps, to the fact that they had already had their "Big Christmas".

This was "Little Christmas" after all. All the joy and excitement but half the hysteria and chaos.

The adults, on the other hand . . .. .

Well, Christmas brings out the "little kid" in all of us.

That seems especially true the bigger we get.

After the blur of torn wrapping paper and exclamations of excitement and joy, we sat down to eat a fabulous spread of food.

Then, we caught up with each other - small conversations in the kitchen or at the table or in the living room. Much better than Facebook. Much better, indeed!

Of course, some of us watched the NOLA Saints and the Seattle Seahawks play football. I was rooting for the Saints, of course, but was sorely outnumbered.

What's not to love about the Saints? (Can you hear me, Grandmere Mimi?)

Pity they lost.

Others of us got a little creative with the gifts we were given.

Here, our youngest granddaughter practices the ancient technique of the 'chasmophile'. In biology, the word means 'thriving or dwelling in rock crevices, chinks, fissures, crannies, and chasms'.

Not too long ago, she got into the cage where her oldest sister's bunny lives. It took a few minutes and not a few hysterical tears to get her out, but apparently she hasn't lost her desire to curl up into small places that are actually designed and intended for other purposes.

The delight of my heart came when our youngest grandchild, a delightfully serious and methodical child, even at age 3, used his new scooter - in the form of an "Elmo Fly Me Airplane" - to transport various toy trucks and buses from the play room into the dining room. There, he very carefully lined them up against the glass door which had been closed to keep the dogs in the kitchen and away from interfering with the festivities.

I began to realize that there was a reason for all his work. He was forming a barricade against the door to insure that the dogs would, in fact, stay away from him and his other siblings and cousins.

After he had lined up the last toy truck, he stood up, pointed his finger at the dogs who stood soulfully looking through the glass and said, in a stern voice that belied his young years, "OUT!"

It's not that he was afraid of the dogs - although one of them has an especially long, enthusiastic and hard to control tail. He just wanted to make sure that they didn't intrude on our holiday fun.

It was his job which he defined and took on for himself. Such a brave little man.

My favorite moment came when I saw two girl cousins heading off to the play room, all hustle and bustle and focused energy. I called after them, "Look at these two beautiful girls!"

The younger one smiled at me and said, as if to explain it all, "We're related, you know."

Yes, yes, my darlings. I know. We're all related. In ways that you haven't yet begun to comprehend.

My heart is a jumble of emotions this morning. Joy and gratitude for my family which warms the inner recesses of my heart and my soul. Shock and horror about what has happened in the human family and to the heart and soul of this country, as recently made manifest in the shootings in Phoenix.

Sometimes, you know, there is such ugliness and evil in the world, it makes me cry out in anguish. And other times, there is such beauty as to stop my heart and cause me to gasp in utter and complete awe.

Both experiences can send me running directly into the arms of Jesus for comfort and solace as well as to share my unspeakable joy and gratitude.

Meanwhile, we live out our lives of faith, balancing ourselves - our minds and bodies, our hearts and souls - between these two realities.

And, in the middle of it all, providing both ballast and perspective, is the Incarnation.

We lose that center at our own peril.

Little Christmas 2011

Years ago, as a young wife and new mother, my first Christmas was quite a culture shock - and completely miserable.

Suddenly, I was faced with a dilemma I had never thought to anticipate.

How to celebrate Christmas? Not how, exactly, but where?

I had delivered our first child in early November. I had looked forward to being at home - in my own new home - with my new husband and new baby. Just the tree and us.

However, both sets of grandparents let it be known that they "expected" to spend Christmas Day with their new grandchild. In their homes.

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, a holiday I had come to love and cherish became one that was filled with dread.

I was exhausted, mostly from normal life with a nursing newborn - which, any new mother can tell you, is far from anything that resembles "normal" - and anticipating a return to work in 6 weeks.

It went on like that for several more years - the Christmas Parental Volleyball game of trying to find our own Christmas while negotiating which parents' home we would go to "first". I had to write which place we had been to "first" in my calendar each year so as not to hurt anyone's feelings the next.

I think it was in those early years that I decided that I would never, EVER, do that to my own children.

And, I haven't.

When our children started to marry and have their own children, I said, "Okay, so here's my Christmas present to you: Spend Christmas wherever you want. At home. With your in-laws. With us. It's okay. Just circle the weekend closest to The Epiphany and we'll celebrate "Little Christmas" together, as a family."

That has worked out very well - for everyone involved. Not only are the children happy not to be confronted with the dilemma of which parental unit with whom to spend Christmas, we all get to be together as a family to celebrate Little Christmas.

It also helps to free me up from the usual liturgical frenetics of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. And, oh by the way, the post-Christmas sales are fantastic. Even wrapping paper is on sale. And, you can take your time wrapping presents - although I admit, I was wrapping presents last night. Procrastinators are repeat offenders.

So today is our day to celebrate "Little Christmas". The menu includes a baked ham, with some home made Mac 'n Cheese, along with a huge vat of Seafood Paella.

That's not a picture of The Seafood Paella above. It's one I snagged off the internet, but it looks pretty close.

I'll post a variation of my Grandmother's Recipe below, but for this one, I didn't fry the onions in bacon or add chicken or sausage because one of our kids does not eat meat. I also substituted Vegetable Broth for the Chicken Broth.

If you want a more traditional Paella, just fry in bacon, eliminate one of the fish, add about 1/2 pound of diced chicken, 1/2 pound of spicy sausage, sliced in hearty chunks, and cook in Chicken Stock.

It takes about 45 minutes to assemble if you do it all at once, but when I'm making large amounts, I usually steam the lobster (for about 10 minutes) and the shrimp (just until they start to get pink) beforehand because I find that they don't cook fully in the oven. I also de-vein and peel the shrimp after they are steamed.

I substituted the absence of the chicken and sausage with scallops and crab meat, and added some crushed red pepper to give the "kick" spicy sausage would. You can also fry up the onions and garlic in Pam instead of olive oil, if you are looking to reduce calories.

Do shop around for saffron. My goodness, some stores sell a few threads of the stuff that make it more expensive than lobster.

You can make your own variations - like adding squid. No one but me likes them, so I don't use them. I've also used monk fish, which holds up nicely and can be used as an inexpensive substitute for the scallops.

If you don't like peas, artichoke or tomato, substitute chopped parsley and pimento.

This recipe serves four to six hearty appetites. Obviously, with 16 people, I tripled it by necessity.

It's expensive to make this time of year, but it's well worth it. And, the presentation is so amazingly festive, it just looks like Christmas.

So, here is my recipe for (meatless) Seafood Paella - and off I go, headed into Holy Family Chaos.

I can't wait.

Seafood Paella

Ingredients

1/2 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons saffron threads
1 glug of EVOO (Extra Virgin Olive Oil)
1 cup chopped red onion (about a medium onion)
4 - 6 cloves of garlic (well, that's the bare minimum)
1 cup arborio rice
1 each small red, yellow and orange bell pepper, trimmed and cut into strips
3 cups hot vegetable stock
1/2 pound scallops
1/2 pound crab meat
1/2 pound medium shrimp, peeled and de-veined
12 mussels, scrubbed
12 little neck clams, scrubbed
two 1 pound ("chicken" or "chick") lobsters
1/2 cup artichoke hearts (optional)
1 cup frozen peas, thawed
1 cup chopped tomato (one medium)
Slice of lemon for garnish


Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 - 375 degrees

Put the white wine and saffron threads in a small bowl and set aside.

Steam the lobsters briefly (10 Minutes)

Steam the shrimp briefly - just until it begins to turn pink - peel and de-vein and set aside.

Preheat a large, heavy paella pan or frying pan for about one minute over medium-high heat. Sear the scallops briefly, until they get brown.

Remove scallops and set aside.

Return pan to flame, pour in a glug of EVOO (or spray well with Pam). Saute onion and garlic until wilted. Add the rice and saute for about 1 minute until golden brown. Add the wine and saffron and stir until the liquid is completely absorbed.

Stir in the peppers. Add the vegetable broth, 1/2 cup at a time, stirring until absorbed. Keep the stock over low heat. When only 1/2 cup of stock remains to be added, stir in the crushed red pepper, shrimp, scallops and crab meat and cook until rice is tender. Salt and pepper to taste.

Turn the burner off.

Stand the mussels and clams upright in the rice mixture, joint down.

Separate the lobster - claws, body and tail - and tuck each into the rice around the perimeter of the pan (I like to stand the lobster bodies back to back in the center of the pan).

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until the mussels and clam shells open and the lobster turns deep red (it may even have a few blackened areas on the claws and back of the tails). About 15-20 minutes.

Scatter the artichoke, peas and tomato over the paella and bake for another 5 minutes.

Place the paella in the center of the dinner table, garnished with some slices of lemon, and allow the guests to serve themselves.

Note: My family understands that the House Rule is that one of the lobster tails is reserved for the cook. The consequences for breaking that rule are . . .well, let's just say it's not pretty.

A Blessed Little Christmas to everyone.