Argumentative Theory of Reasoning

Mark Twain reportedly said, "Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and you will annoy the pig."

Turns out, Mark Twain may have been right.

Last week, the NY Times ran an article about the assumption of those in the fields of psychological science and philosophy that the uniquely human capacity for reasoning has existed to let people reach beyond mere perception and reflex in the search for truth.

The evolution of rationality and the ability to reason, it has been believed, allowed an individual to forge a path of enlightenment to philosophical, moral and scientific thinking.

New research challenges this assumption, and suggests that reason evolved as an extension of the hard-wired human compulsion to win in battle - extended, now, to a war of words.

According to this view, bias, lack of logic and other supposed flaws that pollute the stream of reason are instead social adaptations that enable one group to persuade (and defeat) another. Certitude works, however sharply it may depart from the truth.

Well, that explains a lot, doesn't it?

I call it "The Perry Mason Effect," but the influence could also come from other television show like "LA Law" and "Law and Order".

What we've learned is that prosecutors and defense lawyers are passionate about constructing the strongest possible argument. That's their job. That's what they are paid to do. The belief is that this process will reveal the truth, just as the best idea will triumph in what John Stuart Mill called the “marketplace of ideas.”

What we've learned, however, is that legal cases are not built so much on finding "the truth" but winning. We've seen that politics play a big part. The District Attorney has to be "strong" on certain issues or s/he won't get reelected - or, perform as well in a planned future bid for election as governor.

Justice is supposed to be blind, but political ambition is often blind to justice.

Mr. Mill's theory of the "marketplace of ideas" seems to have been hijacked by the media which often dumps so many biased 'ideas' and speculation into our living rooms and car radios that "the truth" - much less the possibility of a 'fair trial' - is severely compromised.

Somebody's got to win and somebody's got to lose. In today's world, it is more often the case that the one with the best presentation in court wins. Survival of the fittest has extended its evolution into the rhetoric of human interaction.

Beyond debating techniques or compelling closing arguments - or just below the surface of them - is the old caveman impulse to beat someone over the head with a club until you can drag them back to your cave. In these post-modern times, our words have become our club.

Last night, I met to consult with a vestry of a congregation which is in a search process to call a new rector. I've often joked about consultants and now I find that I'm becoming one.

One of the jokes about a consultant is that their job is to look at your watch and tell you what time it is. I must be doing this wrong because I'm finding that it is not as easy as it looks.

The issues before us were two: "the process" and "the prejudices" in the search for a new rector. "The process" part was complicated by an interesting policy and procedure in that particular diocese.

All potential candidates are vetted by the bishop's office - BEFORE the Search Committee is allowed to look over their resumes or interview the potential candidate. It is the bishop's office that presents 3-5 potential candidates for an interview and possible call. In the end, the Search Committee in that diocese is charged with presenting one - just ONE - candidate for Vestry approval.

The Vestry does not have a chance to interview the potential candidate. They are, however, allowed to meet "socially" with him/her before the final vote.

I'm astounded by this practice, honoring and respecting, as I do, the legal, fiduciary and spiritual responsibilities of the Vestry as Servant Leaders of the community of faith. Even so, it is what it is, and there was no sense registering my complaints with that process. You work with what you've got.

So, we talked about the nature of their community and what their profile said about them and what their liturgical practices - and yes, even their budget - revealed about their priorities and values and theology.

We talked about what questions they might ask of the Search Committee to get the information they needed in order to keep everyone on the same page and how to trust the process and the way the Holy Spirit can and does work through politics and personalities.

We talked about family systems and anxiety and the natural inclination in the system to deal with anxiety through triangulation (thank you, Ed Friedman). We also talked about strategies for the Vestry's "non interview" of the candidate at the allowed 'social event'.

We also talked about the Vestry's final vote of the one potential candidate - whether or not it was to be a simple majority, a super majority or a unanimous vote, and what that meant to both the congregation as well as the candidate as a symbol of support for both the candidate as well as their leadership.

Then, we got to prejudices. No, they had no issues with a woman as their rector. No, they had no issues with a person of color as their rector - although, in that community, some . . . umm. . ."challenges" . . . . would no doubt present themselves. I assured them that a person of color in a predominantly Caucasian community would come into that situation with his or her eyes wide open.

Hmmm . . . What about a person with disabilities No problem, really. We've got walkers and crutches and wheelchairs, someone joked nervously. "But, what about pastoral visits," someone mused out loud. Hmmmm . . . . Never thought about that, they all agreed. And, we probably should.

So, let's see, that leaves us with . . .. hmmm . . .. anybody guess? Anybody? Bueller? Anybody?

One woman slapped her hand on the table and said, "It's me. I'm very clear. I can not - will not - accept "one of those" . . . a homosexual . . . as my pastor."

Funny thing. I found myself admiring her for her honesty and integrity.  Give me someone who can honestly admit their prejudices and take a stand any day over those who profess to have none and smile and nod and then cave into conflict in the name of "peace". 

No justice, no peace. Know justice, know peace.

Now, I should tell you that I revealed nothing about my own personal circumstances. Only that "we" had six children and five grandchildren and that family was my first vocation and highest priority.

Some of the other Vestry members sprang into mildly, barely concealed outrage. They asked her questions - very pointed questions - which she answered gracefully but with clear conviction. She had her own perspective of the world and how it works. She had her understanding of the Bible. She has no problem "dealing" with homosexuals - why the children of some of her best friends are homosexual. She just would not - could not - accept "one of them" as her pastor.

She would not be moved.

There was no arguing with this woman. There was no amount of reasoning with her. She believed what she believed and, I might add, displayed an enormous amount of courage and grace to be the obvious "odd man out" in that group. By the furtive looks and glaces I was getting from some of the Vestry members, it was painfully obvious that some were somewhat embarrassed by her, although they also had obvious admiration and affection for her.

Funny thing. I found myself intervening to defend her and back everyone off. Yup, I'm that committed to the idea of God's unconditional love and inclusion of absolutely everybody. Clearly, she has her prejudices and biases, but she ain't no bigot, if you understand what I'm saying.

Besides, I've been in this place too many times before. I remember one "event" - long ago - some attempt or another at reconciliation with the "orthodox" among us, in the days when we thought that still might be possible. You know. Before the "orthodox" got on their high horses and left for the Global South.

Louie Crew - Blessed Louie Crew - and I were sitting at a table with one older woman who, for most of our dinner and for two hours after dessert, berated Louie about how he could "change".

Louie - Blessed Louie - gently, patiently, told her one story after another. He told her the sweet, sweet story of how he and Earnest had met at the local YMCA - at the elevator, as I recall. He told her romantic stories of how he and Earnest had courted and how they "married" themselves in their own living room, using the 1928 Prayer book - the only book available at the time - and then carried each other over the threshold.

He told her stories of the racism (Earnest is African American) and homophobia he initially encountered from his parents and family and neighbors, and how he had come to forgive them, and they came to love and accept them for who they were.

The woman was adamant. Louie could - if he prayed hard enough, if he wanted it bad enough, if he loved Jesus enough - change and become "normal".

I was amazed by his stamina and his unfailing gentle, caring, loving, patient spirit. I would have thrown in the lavender towel hours before and gone to bed to punch a few pillows.

Finally, even Louie - Blessed Louie - grew weary. He looked at the woman, smiled gently and said, "I'm going to go to bed now, but before I leave, I'd like to ask you a question, if that's alright".

"Why yes, of course," she said politely.

"You have a daughter right?"

"Why, yes," said the woman, "two of them."

"Well," said Louie, "If I were to "change" as you ask, might I ask you something?"

The woman smiled broadly. She smelled victory. "Of course," she said.

"If I were to "change", which of your two daughters would you allow me to marry?"

The woman looked startled. "Why, neither of them!" she exclaimed.

And Louie - Blessed, Sainted Louie - smiled at her sweetly and said, "Of course not. Because you know that I can't change, don't you? And, it would be disastrous for your daughter and your family - and me."

The woman looked astounded and completely befuddled as Louie affectionately patted her hand, stood up, bowed like the Southern gentleman he is, and said, "Good night."

That experience with Louie taught me more about the "Argumentative Theory of Reasoning" than any article in any scientific journal ever could.

I believe in the Holy Spirit. I believe in the power of the Holy Spirit to work through the most powerful politics and the most difficult personalities.

I believe in the power of the Holy Spirit because I know she has worked in my own life, transforming and reforming me like so much clay on a potter's wheel.

I believe that the Holy Spirit will work through that woman and that Vestry. I trust Her to work through their process to call the best person to do the work of ministry in that place as their rector.

And, if the best person for the position of rector happens to be Queer, I trust the Holy Spirit to work on that Vestry woman's heart and lead her to make the best decision for the health and well being of her soul and her own salvation.

I can hear Shekinah giggling, even now, when that Vestry woman - one day, in the not too distant future, I suspect - discovers that the priest who led their discussion last night, the very one and the same person she lauded with praise for her pastoral guidance, also happens to be .... "one of them."

One of this morning's lesson was from Acts 5:27-42. It's the story of conflict in the early church about the "new teaching" of Jesus which the disciples were preaching all over Jerusalem.

Members of the Sanhedrin were outraged and brought them before the high priest. Peter and the other apostles replied: “We must obey God rather than human beings!"

The story continues at verse 33:

When they heard this, they were furious and wanted to put them to death. But a Pharisee named Gamaliel, a teacher of the law, who was honored by all the people, stood up in the Sanhedrin and ordered that the men be put outside for a little while. Then he addressed the Sanhedrin: “Men of Israel, consider carefully what you intend to do to these men. Some time ago Theudas appeared, claiming to be somebody, and about four hundred men rallied to him. He was killed, all his followers were dispersed, and it all came to nothing. After him, Judas the Galilean appeared in the days of the census and led a band of people in revolt. He too was killed, and all his followers were scattered. Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God.”

Leave them alone! I think that's the best example of "Argumentative Theory of Reasoning" I've heard. Leave them alone. If it is of God, it will have out.

You see, as it turns out, pigs do sing. Their song is just not one that humans can appreciate. But, I think God does. Indeed, I think it was God who taught them to sing in their own way.

The trick is not to try to teach pigs to sing in a way that is pleasing to us, but to find a way so that their voices can blend in a heavenly chorus that is pleasing to God.

That may not make sense, but then again, this is not an argument I'm looking to win.

I'm just singing my own song, is all.

Living with commas

Here's the thing about faith - it's a bit of a conundrum.

Faith is a matter more of the heart than of the head. Faith does not necessarily answer questions or provide absolute certainty. Rather, faith provides us with a confidence to face the myriad of life's questions.

Faith, at its best, is not so much a noun as it is a verb. By that I mean that it is both a state of being and a call to continue the journey. It is both a resting place and a destination. Faith can provide a measure of both solace and disturbance, comfort and challenge.

That being said, you'll understand, then, when the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise when I hear "God-talk" which is stridently certain or makes certain proclamations about God - or the human condition or the world or the church - which are absolute.

I've discovered, over the years, that it's a very short trip on a very slippery slope from 'absolute' to 'arrogance'.

The ironic thing is that most of those who make absolute pronouncements of certainty are absolutely horrified to be described in this way, seeing themselves, as they do, as pious, devout, humble servants of God.

I do not mean that sarcastically or pejoratively. Rather, it is my personal observation of one of the many ironies of religious life which is, I think, reflective of the conundrum of faith - especially faith as bound up within religious structures.

Indeed, it is my observation and experience that if one were to scratch the surface of the person who has made an absolute pronouncement of faith, one would find a person who is so insecure, so terrified of the Great Mystery that is our God, that s/he is clinging to "the faith first delivered to the fathers" rather than taking the risks which our faith calls us to take.

'Bibliolatry'. That's what some folks are calling it. Holding up the bible as an idol as opposed to a vehicle. Rather than opening up and unlocking the treasures behind every word of every Sacred Story, some folks would rather place it on a pedestal, encase it in glass, and build an impenetrable wall around them and scripture, hoping to keep the world - and every anxiety or fear or doubt - away.

Those are, of course, polar opposites on the spectrum of faith expression. There are even greater extremes. Sometimes, that which looks like faith can actually becomes an expression of neurosis or pathology dressed up in religious garb and language.

Feminist theologian Mary Daly once said, "'God's plan' is often a front for men's plans and a cover for inadequacy, ignorance and evil." She also said, "Work is a substitute 'religious experience' for many workaholics."

God knows, Jesus can be a powerful substitute addictive substance.

Want to stop drinking? Get drunk on Jesus! The 'new wine' He offers will alter your perceptions and transform your life.

Want to stop using drugs? Get high on a life in Christ! You'll never come down.

Well, that's all well and good, I suppose, as a starting point. Unfortunately, some people never really move on from that point. They simply trade off their addiction to alcohol or drugs for an addiction to the opiate that religion can sometimes be.

There's an expression in 12 Step Programs: "Faith is what you turn to when you grow tired of relying on common sense."

Well, there is that element to faith, isn't there? I have taken risks of faith that were, frankly, insane. No reasonable person would have done some of the things I have done in the name of faith.

Here's the thing I've learned: There is a mysterious trinity of human response to the mystery of The Trinity of God - Creator, Word and Spirit. That trinity is faith, hope and love. They are not the same, but they are one.

In my experience, it begins with love. Love that is present and has been present and will be present even when were were not - or are not - conscious or even aware of its presence.  It is a Love that we may never be able to return in equal measure.

Love warms the cold heart and stirs the weak soul. If we are fortunate, we are able to see a reflection of that Love in the eyes or actions of another person.

If we are especially blessed, we may see a reflection of that Love in the eyes of another human being who sees beyond all of our warts and blemishes and finds not only our goodness, but our potential for even greater goodness.

In seeing our own goodness in the eyes of Love, we find the courage to hope. Hope which lifts up our head to see beyond what's right in front of our eyes.

Hope which casts our vision from the earth beneath our feet to the horizon and beyond.

Hope which infuses our tired bodies to take a step forward when we didn't know we had the strength.

Hope which raises a song in our weary throats when we didn't know we could sing, much less know the words or melody.

The work of Love is not yet over, for it kindles the embers of hope, breathing over it to inspire faith. It is this faith that can move mountains of doubt and fear until we find ourselves accomplishing something we had no idea we could achieve.

Faith does not provide certainty but it does give us a sense of confidence that, because we know that we are Loved, we might also love enough to hope to love even more through a life of faith.

Faith does not demand miracles, but often accomplishes them.

So, Love, hope and faith, together these three abide, but the genesis of this sacred human trinity is Love. 

This is love: It is not so much that we love God but that God loved us first and God will love us to the end. (1 John 4:19)

And, this is love: It is confident enough to draw the circle larger to bring those who live at the margins without love and hope and faith closer into the center.

And, this is love: It is fearless of The Changer and the changed. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, so that we might be free to love even more.

And, this is love: It is lavish and wasteful and prodigal.  It sometimes takes us beyond that which is "meet, right and proper" and into scandal, transporting us to what Martin Smith calls the "crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith". 

Jesus said to His disciples,

“I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when the Spirit of truth comes s/he will guide you into all the truth. " (John 16:12-13)

Which is why my faith teaches me that, although I can not lay claim to absolute certainty, I am confident that God is still speaking.  God is still revealing Godself in the world.

That brilliant comedian and theologian, Gracie Allen, is credited with saying, "Never put a period where God has placed a comma."

At the end of the day, that's as good a definition of a life of faith as any I've ever heard: living life with commas while we wait for God to end the sentence with a period.

That's hard to do unless you know that you are loved, living a life of "sure and certain" hope which inspires faith in the face of life's uncertainties.

Faith is living with commas.

Flash Mob Evangelism

A friend sent me this video of 'flash mob' that recently happened at Newburyport, MA. A large group of mostly women danced to Lady Gaga's "Born This Way".

At the end of the very enthusiastic performance, many of the folks who were dancing took off their zippered hoodies to reveal T-shirts advertizing a local dance company.

It looked like great fun. And, it got a little advertizing for a local community dance troop.

Granted, Newburyport is a wonderful, funky, seaport kinda town, but if a 'flash mob' can happen there it can happen anywhere.

Which got me to thinking.

According to Wiki, a 'flash mob' is . . .

. . . a group of people who assemble suddenly in a public place, perform an unusual and sometimes seemingly pointless act for a brief time, then disperse, often for the purposes of entertainment and/or satire.Flash mobs are organized via telecommunications, social media, or viral emails. The term, coined in 2003, is generally not applied to events and performances organized for the purposes of politics (such as protests), commercial advertisement, publicity stunts that involve public relation firms, or paid professionals.

I suspect that YouTube is a big part of what has made these sorts of things very popular.

So, here's my thought: What if a church group organized a 'flash mob'?

No, really. Think of it.

One possible version would be to have several choirs combine to create a 'flash mob' at a local shopping mall. They could perform a wonderful cantata or, perhaps, a spirited version of Amazing Grace. Lots of harmony. Rich, full sounds.

I love this 'flash mob' of the Alleluia Chorus at a Food Court.

Or, it could just be people dancing to recorded music. I love this flash mob from "The Sound of Music" at Central Station Antwerp (Belgium)

Another version would be to have a youth group - or combined youth groups - dance to, say, the Monkees "I'm A Believer". Or, REM's "Losing My Religion". Or, Kanye West's, "Jesus Walks".

The practices could be great fun - especially in the summer - and give these kids a fun way to do evangelism. Sort of like "Glee" for Church Youth Groups.

Here's the evangelism part: At the end of the 'flash mob', everyone takes off their hoodies to display their T-shirts that say on the front, "St. Swithins Episcopal Church" (or, whatever) and on the back, "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You."

I think it could be great fun, and it just might wake up a few souls to say to each other, "Hey, let's go check out St. Swithin's one day."

Or, maybe, just maybe, the next time the sky falls, they'll remember that St. Swithins was out there, in the community, surprising people with joy and creativity.

Of course, once you get them into church, you'll have to have something to keep them there, but that's a topic for another discussion on another day.

It seems a better idea to me than most curricula I've read for most "Vacation Bible Schools" which seemed designed for the pre-K group. This one could be inter-generational and lots of fun.

A 'flash mob' for Jesus.

I think He'd like it, don't you?

Anamchara - the New Monasticism

Anamchara Fellowship (Photo: Wilmington Examiner)

They are a wild and woolly bunch. Then again, what would you expect of a religious order which includes Ms. Conroy?

They really think they can change the world through their devotion to the Trinity, a disciplined life of prayer and service to the people of God through the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Oh, and laughter and a wee bit of mischievous fun. That's due, at least in part, because their spirituality is solidly based in Celtic roots, tempered, as it is, in the Episcopal tradition.

Founded in the State of Delaware in 2003, the Anamchara Fellowship received official canonical recognition from the House of Bishops in 2007.

This new religious order of men and women - married, single and partnered, old and young, black and white, gay and straight - do not live together in either a monastery or convent.

Indeed, they are from "all over the map" - New York, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Massachusetts, Michigan, California, New Mexico, Texas, Oregon, Virginia, Southern Virginia, North Carolina, and Delaware.  (Whew! I think I got them all.)

They communicate with each other frequently through their listserv, "Skype" Evening Prayer once a week together and gather in several local "Parish Life Days" throughout the year, as well as an entire community once a year.

They are meeting this weekend at a retreat center in Paoli, PA. They have grown from nineteen members last year to twenty eight this year.

There are now twelve life-professed members. The others are aspirants or novices. 

Brother Morgan  (Photo: Ms. Conroy)

This year, Bill Shatzabel (AKA "Brother William Morgan") joined the number of those who are life professed.

That's him on the left. The one who is glowing.

He also graduated this month from the four year course of study known as EfM (Education for Ministry). It's been a big year for Bill who has also recently become a member of Redeemer, Morristown, NJ.

Ms. Conroy (AKA "Sister Barbara Clare") describes herself in the picture above as the one with the "angelic face".  It's just my opinion, but I think "Irish angelic face" is an oxymoron.

Ms. Conroy reports that Bill wept when he had to give up his novice cross, but those tears were quickly dried when he learned that his cross would be given to a new novice.

That's the way it is in life, isn't it?

Celtic Cross

According to their web page:

Anamchara is a Gaelic word for "soulfriend". It was the style of formation given to a new monk or nun in a Celtic monastery, whereby the new member would be paired up with an older, more experienced monk. In this way the new Religious would have a more personal mentoring in the monastic tradition. (The Roman or Continental style of formation is more like students together in a class sitting with one teacher for all.) The Anamchara is the model we seek to draw back into our Religious training.

"Friendship is the nature of God. The Christian concept of God as Trinity is the most sublime articulation of otherness and intimacy, an eternal interflow of friendship. Jesus is the secret Anamchara of every individual." (John O'Donohue)

Members of the Anamchara Fellowship take three vows:

Simplicity of Life:

+ Having no financial recourse to the Fellowship, but within individual means helping to maintain its organizational needs
+ Seeking to live without a spirit of accumulation
+ Using all things with gentleness and respect, developing a sense of poverty of spirit, whereby we grasp with heart and mind that ALL belongs to God
+ Becoming extravagant with our love and care toward others "He should never refuse assistance to a person who calls with insistence for it. Let him share generously and without measure with the one who asks." (Rule of Ailbe)

Fidelity:

+ Living with gentleness of manner toward everyone
+ Renouncing all physical and verbal control over others
+ Constancy toward the one with whom God has blessed us as mate or as Anamchara
+ Consciously striving after peace and mercy for all: "To do justice, to love peace, and to walk humbly with God."

Obedience:

+ Following the Gospel imperatives of love and forgiveness
+ Working within the context of the Church to which the member belongs, seeing the leadership and Councils of the Church as guides
+ Listening for the voice of God in those placed in authority over us in our congregations, dioceses and within the Fellowship.

I think this motley crew is onto something.

Life Professed Members (Photo: Wilmington Examiner)

If you compare the group picture at the top with the picture of those who are life professed, you'll note that the group is getting decidedly younger - and, more diverse.

Indeed, I understand it now takes two and a half hours to get through one of the spiritual exercises, where, in previous years, it only took sixty to ninety minutes.

I suspect that their growth is due to the fact that they are, by their life and work and understanding of 'fellowship', answering a deep spiritual hunger that many people are experiencing.

Clearly, this is one answer, one response to that hunger.  It is not for everyone. And, just because I know you're thinking it, let me just say that no, not everyone wears a habit. They don't always look like "green and cream monkeys and penguins".

And, no, not all the women wear a veil. They do, however tend to"dress up" when they are all together or when they are representing their order in a liturgical function, retreat or parochial workshop. Indeed, I've rarely seen Ms. Conroy in her habit. Actually, I've seen more pictures of her in her habit. And, she never wears the veil.

My experience of many who respond to the Anamchara Fellowship is that there is something missing, something lacking, in their church experience. That may or may not be the fault of the church. It may be due to a need for a deeper experience of community. A more disciplined way of a life of prayer. A way to live out the gospel imperatives for service and mission which they can't do in a local church. A fellowship where they can receive spiritual guidance and have a spiritual companion with a 'soul friend' in a community of prayer and service. 

Some of the members of The Anamchara Fellowship hold pretty impressive resumes. Some are teachers and lawyers. Others are professional musicians (from Opera to Irish music), carpenters and tradesmen.  Several are in the health care professions - nursing, psychology, social work, pharmacology, addictions recovery. One is involved in disaster relief efforts and CPR/Life-saving education for the American Red Cross. Several are hospital chaplains. One - a tiny woman - holds a Black Belt in Tang Soo Do.

All of them are active in their local congregations - Altar Guild, Choir, Eucharistic Ministers, Lectors, Social Justice Advocacy and Ministry, Spiritual Directors, Catechetics (Religious Education/Formation), and Parish Nurses. One is a priest, a few are deacons and one is in the ordination process. Several lead retreats and workshops, one has a passion for leading spiritual pilgrimages, and another is a certified spiritual prayer healer.

One would think that would be enough, right? Apparently not. I don't think they are unique or exceptional in having a spiritual hunger for more. Indeed, it is my experience that the deeper you go into the mystery of the Trinity, the more you need something like The Anamchara Fellowship.

We all need 'soul friends', but none so much as those who are foolish - and courageous - enough to think that they can change the world through their devotion to the Trinity, a disciplined life of prayer and service to the people of God through the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Oh, and laughter and a wee bit of mischievous fun. All in the name of Jesus, who is "the secret Anamchara of every individual".

Here, watch this video or click on this link in which Sr. Barbara Jean explains it all.

Well, okay - not "all".

You can visit their website to get more information about this new way of being in a religious community. Click here and check it out.

There is one warning, however: The deeper you go into the mystery of the Trinity, the more you may discover your own hunger for an Anamchara - and a thirst to be an Amamchara with and for others.

And then, you just may have the audacity to think you might be able to join them in their effort to change the world.

Not to worry. It's just an old Celtic trick. The one who will really be changed is you.

Walking with Theo

No, that's not Theo. And, you guessed it, it's not me. Not even me as a baby.

It is how I feel when I walk with Theo.

The weather has been glorious this week. Cool early mornings and nights, warm late mornings and early evenings. The sun is hot during the day - mid to high 80's - so we tend to stay in the sun room, watching the boats going by.

The early morning and late evening, however, are made for long walks.

Theo is very different from most male dogs I've known who take twice as long to get wherever it is you're going because they have to stop and "mark" everything - if you understand what I mean.

It's walk twenty paces, spot a telephone pole, mark. Walk another twenty paces, notice a bush, mark. See the man taking out his trash, stop and bark. Walk away, grumbling and growling, spot a trash can, mark.

Not Theo. Oh, he has to stop and sniff and bark and grumble and growl, but he 'marks' one spot and he's good to go. Literally.

Here's the lovely thing: He walks WITH me. That's so unlike Ms. CoCo (AKA "Miz Bossypants") and Mr. Lenny (takes the 'short bus' to school) who always seem in such a rush to get to wherever it is we're supposed to be going - which they know not, but let's get there as quickly as we can, shall we?

It reminds me of a story Jon Richardson told me of his childhood. His mother used to say to him, "C'mon, let's go so we can get back."

One day, he said, "Mom, if the idea is hurry to go so we can get back, why leave in the first place?"

Jon says he doesn't remember much after that.

Lenny and CoCo are small, so when they pull at the leash it doesn't hurt my back or my arms, but it is rather annoying after a while.

Theo? Theo just walks. With me. By my side.

Well, that is until we get to the first street light and then he can't see the house, which makes him a bit nervous. Even so, he just does a nervous little zig zag in front of me until we reach the top of the street, and then, for some reason, he calms down and walks by my side again.

He's gotten ever so much better than when he first arrived on March 20th. No more shivery-shaking, even when he meets new people. Oh, he still takes his spot behind or between my legs and bows his head, but he doesn't freak out like he once did.

I've been taking him with me to the Wednesday morning clergy gathering in Lewes, as part of my efforts to 'socialize' him. He has a little routine. After he nervously checks out the room, he takes "his" place on the couch with me. Well, behind me, actually. Between the back of the couch and the big pillow that supports my back.

"My" seat is near the Lutheran pastor who attends the group. He's retired, officially, but is the part time interim at a nearby Episcopal church. He's right out of central casting - a big, gentle bear of a man with a kind spirit behind a clerical collar.

Theo spotted him immediately and allowed a few pats on the head the first week. Now, three weeks later, they are great buddies.

My Lutheran friend always greets him warmly - even before me - with a brightness in his eyes and a warm smile. "Theo!" he says excitedly. "There's my boy! Hello, Theo," he says, as Theo makes a tentative move towards him and then, having second thoughts, moves behind me to his place on the back of the couch.

When Theo is settled, my Lutheran friend extends his open hand and Theo licks him, which begins to visibly melt the kind pastor. "Oh, we're great friends now, aren't we, Theo," he coos, as Theo rests his nuzzle in his friend's big, beefy mitt.

They stay like that for most of our time together. I suspect, if I switched seats, Theo would cuddle right up to him as he does me.

Love is really a miracle, you know? Theo is being changed by it, but so am I. And, so is my Lutheran friend. Indeed, so are most of the clergy who gather on Wednesday mornings who keep tabs on Theo's progress.

I was thinking about that miracle this morning as I was out for a walk with Theo. Actually, as Theo was zig-zagging his way in front of me, I found myself considering the lessons for this coming Sunday - Trinity Sunday.

I was thinking especially about the Gospel lesson for the day, from Matthew 28:16-20.

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age."

I'm not sure how many disciples I have helped to make - I'd like to think there have been a few in the past 25 years - but I know I'm a better disciple today than I was when I first began this journey. And, I know that Jesus has been with me every step of the way.

It occurs to me that this is because Jesus invites us not into the certainty of religion but into exploring and discovering the mystery of what it means to be a unique part of God's creation.

The mystery of the Trinity stands symbolically at the heart of that mystery of faith. God and Jesus and Shekinah are three individuals and yet One.

The mystery of the human enterprise is that we are in relationship with God and each other and all of creation and yet unique and individual.

What draws us closer into the center of that mystery is the miracle of Love incarnate, Love divine. And that Love draws us into that which is irrational and inexplicable and, in fact, ridiculous and profoundly irreligious.

Religion tries to make sense out of that which can never be explained. It attempts to order that which is chaotic. Religion tries to tame a tornado, calm a volcano, control a hurricane.

The Trinity whom we worship and adore this Sunday teaches us that it can't be done. It's a wonderful cosmic joke God plays on us. Just when we think we've discovered the answers, God changes the questions.

As I was walking Theo and considering all these things, I remembered that wonderful poem about the Incarnation and the mystery of Love by George White:

Watch your step. You are approaching a dangerous

manger. It also serves as a makeshift baby bed.

Beware, for the one you seek did not stay a baby.

Jesus, nursed and cuddled by Mary, later claimed

everyone who does God’s will as his mother.

Jesus, worshipped by shepherds, later challenged

us to seek out not lost sheep, but lost people.

Jesus, given gifts by wise ones who had traveled

from afar, called us to go out of our way to care for

the hungry, the lonely, and the homeless.

Watch your step as you take this Bethlehem baby

into your arms and whisper to him.

You may find him taking you into his arms,

whispering new life into you.

A friend recently sent me a car magnet. It's a paw print and in the middle it says, "Who rescued who?"

I'm thinking that I don't so much walk Theo as he walks me. It's a wonderful little trick Love plays on the human heart. We're just out for a walk, you see, heading nowhere fast. We'll get home when we get home.  And, even when we can't see it and it makes us a little nervous, we know the way back home.

It's not about the destination. It's about the journey.

It's not about the certainty. It's about the mystery.

I'm beginning to understand that Theo is here to lead me closer and closer to that dangerous manger where, step by step, sometimes zigging and zagging, I move closer to Love.

Words Fail

Rob Petersen

I've always had a love of languages - especially but not exclusively the English language. I am amused by the fact that the British use a word one way and we use it completely differently.

The first time I heard a heterosexual Englishman exclaim, "Oh Lord, I'm desperate for a fag!" I had no idea he really, really wanted a cigarette and not a gay man.

I love that the British have words and phrases that we don't. They have the "The WC," the Water Closet. Why do Americans call it "The Restroom"? I mean, we really don't 'rest' there, do we?

Funny, that.

I love the way words sound. I love literature and poetry, rhyme and meter.

Which is probably why I love the Book of Common Prayer. While I understand the increasing tendency to produce everything necessary for worship in a booklet, eliminating the juggling back and forth between service bulletin, BCP and Hymnal for those who aren't familiar with our worship, I do lament that we no longer get to put that magnificent book in everyone's hands for them to wander through and discover.

There are some words that just make me giggle. I like the way they sound, is all. Like, "obfuscate". Or, "antiquity". Or, "hermeneutic". Or, archiac  words like "pusillanimous". Or "anon". Or "chasmophile". Or, "betwixt". Or, "forsooth".

There are words or phrases that, when they are used, are clearly "code" for something else. Don't you just love it when people call for "transparency"? It's very close to saying, "We think you've been lying/hiding something and we want to know"- but that's not what they say. They say they want  "transparency" instead.

I recently heard from a clergy person who said he had been involved in a "church planting" but left after five years because, he said, they had grown "complacent". "Hmm . . . 'complacent'?," I thought. That just made me curious, so I asked if, in fact, they had just reached a "plateau" in growth cycle.

There was a long pause. "What you're saying, then," he asked softly, "is that it may not have been all their fault?"

"I'm just saying," I offered, "that there are many reasons for a congregation to 'stall' in their growth cycle. It's often hard not to see all the reasons when you are in the midst of it. So, it's really hard to figure out how to address the problem so you can figure out an appropriate strategy."

Which brings me to the term "church planting". It's all the rage, but what does it mean, really? I mean, other than the obvious creation of a new, physical church facility and the evangelism of new members.

We used to call this "mission". Cathedrals and large parishes used to begin new "missions" in neighborhoods or follow changing demographic patterns to build churches where people lived. When the congregation was stable enough to be on it's own, it became an incorporated, independent parish - or, 'church'.

'Parish' is something very Anglican and Roman, which was used to describe a geographical area - a word which carries with it the intermingling of church and state. In England, the Wardens and Vestry often act as the "City/Town Council" of the "parish".  We have more "churches" than "parishes" in the U.S. that are increasingly referred to as "communities of faith" - which, actually, I prefer.

So, we've gone from 'mission' to 'church planting'.  What happened? Why the change in language? What new reality does it reflect? Because, you know, I think it does reflect a new reality.

Here's another word that gets used a lot these days: "Vision". Every leader is supposed to have one, right? Especially in church.  "Without a vision, the people perish," we learn in Proverbs 29:18, so by gum and by golly, our ordained leaders had better have vision, right?

But, look at the folks we are ordaining, who later form the pool from which we elect bishops.

Nice people. Smart, well educated people. Most of whom have a very well developed spirituality. Clearly, they love God and Jesus. But, do they have a 'vision' of the church that can energize and inspire? Can they lead? I mean, see where it is they want the church/diocese to go and call together the people with the skill sets to help get us there?

Actually, do we want them to?

Vision and leadership require risk-taking and courage - not only for the leader, but for those who say that want to make vision a reality. 

Sometimes, when I listen to some congregations talk about how their vision is that they want to 'grow', I want to ask them "Why?". The answer is a predictable, befuddled, "What? I mean, isn't that what we're supposed to want to do?"

Well, that's not a 'vision'. That's a 'should'.

I once asked a Vestry, "Suppose this is it? Suppose this is the 'critical mass' that God has sent you to do what Jesus asks us to do? What can you do? What will you do? What is your 'vision' of what can be done?"

The response? Radio silence.

In those situations, I often feel like I'm in the midst of the fable about Henny Penny who found a seed of wheat and wanted to plant it so that she could make bread. She saw the seed of wheat and had a vision that it might become a loaf of bread.

She planted the seed by herself, reaped, threshed and ground the wheat and, by herself baked the bread.

All along the way to achieving her vision, she asked who would help her. No one did. However, when the bread was baked, everyone wanted to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Or, as the aphorism (another word I like) from the visionary community organizer Saul Alinsky goes, "A leader without a following is just a person out for a walk."

I suspect 'church planting' is code for 'mission' and 'evangelism' because those words have become so 'loaded' - mostly with failure - that we don't really know what we mean anymore when we say them.

Besides, 'planting a church' is a very tangible and visible task. That being said, it's often another exercise in Henny Pennism, creating or demanding leaders who are 'lone rangers' who end up doing most of the heavy lifting by themselves.

And then, we criticize the leader for "not knowing how to ask for help" and being a 'lone ranger'. 

See also "complacent" as code language.

I'm also fascinated by the shift in our language from "global warming" to "climate control". I suppose we've all had enough of the idiots who, when there's a a snow storm in early April, grin and loudly proclaim, "Well, so much for global warming."

'Climate control' is an interesting shift. I understand. What we do - the gas we use, the garbage we produce, the pollutants we add to the air - all affect our environment which has a direct impact on the climate. But, 'climate control' is an interesting way to phrase it, don't you think?

I'm liking the shift from "gay marriage" to "marriage equality". I remember talking about this in the early '80s in terms of "homosexual behavior". I mean, because I'm Queer, if I scratch my nose, or sip a cup of tea, or pay my taxes or mow my lawn, is that "homosexual behavior"?

When I go grocery shopping, is that "gay shopping"? When I go to church, is that "gay worship"? I'll stop, but you get my point, right?

So, about "Queer". Yes, I'm using it almost exclusively now instead of LGBTQITS. That would be "Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Two Spirit".

In my experience, "Queer" helps us move away from binary (one of my favorite words these days) thinking, and moves us into considering the 'spectrum' of realities and experiences. 

I think the point is that there are many of us - heterosexual people, included - who do not fit neatly into the dominant social paradigm. The point is that the issues many of us inadvertently challenge our culture with include sexuality and sexual expression, gender identity and expression, dress and physicality, and ethnic differences and expressions of ethnicity and race.

That makes us "queer" - meaning out of the ordinary, unusual or strange. I'm using "Queer" - with a capitol 'Q' - to define a group of people which includes me.

Yes, it has been used as a deroggatory word to describe homosexuals. Indeed, it is still extremely offensive when used as an epithet.

However, many LGBTQITS people - as well as our heterosexual allies - are reclaiming the term for ourselves, much the same way that African Americans reclaimed the pejorative "Black" for themselves, to take away the negative power of the word.

Words do have power. Lots of power. And, sometimes words fail to describe some of the amazing things in life. Like being present when a baby is born. Or, being in the room when someone draws their last breath. Or, stumbling upon a flower growing in the midst of a desert. Or watching a Great Blue Heron spread its wings and fly over a marsh.

Lunar Eclipse

Like, the full moon last night. Did you see it? It was . . . . um . . . incredible? Beautiful? Amazing?

I am told it was a lunar eclipse in Sagittarius - whatever that means. It is, apparently, the second of five eclipses for 2011, the first one having been on June 1 which was a Solar Eclipse in Gemini - which, interestingly enough, was about 'communication'.

Sagittarius, I'm told, is all about truth.

When Pilate asked Jesus, "What is truth?" Jesus didn't answer. (John 18:38)

Sometimes, words fail.

Other times, a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Let's talk evangelism.

Evangelism.

Everybody wants it.

No one knows how to do it.

I offer the following story, "The Rabbi's Gift" by M. Scott Peck, which first appeared in his book, "Different Drummer".

I think it's a good place to begin talking about Evangelism.

THE RABBI'S GIFT

The Different Drum Version

by Dr. M. Scott Peck 

The story concerns a monastery that had fallen upon hard times. Once a great order, as a result of waves of antimonastic persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the rise of secularism in the nineteenth, all its branch houses were lost and it had become decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order.

In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years of prayer and contemplation the old monks had become a bit psychic, so they could always sense when the rabbi was in his hermitage. "The rabbi is in the woods, the rabbi is in the woods again " they would whisper to each other. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot at one such time to visit the hermitage and ask the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.

The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. "I know how it is," he exclaimed. "The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore." So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. The time came when the abbot had to leave. They embraced each other. "It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years, "the abbot said, "but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?"

"No, I am sorry," the rabbi responded. "I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you."

When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, "Well what did the rabbi say?" "He couldn't help," the abbot answered. "We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving --it was something cryptic-- was that the Messiah is one of us. I don't know what he meant."

In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi's words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that's the case, which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people's sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Phillip is the Messiah. Of course the rabbi didn't mean me. He couldn't possibly have meant me. I'm just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn't be that much for You, could I?

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi's gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

Sexual Assault Prevention Tips

Tumblinfeminist

(Click on image for larger and clearer view.)

Instead of just telling people how to dress why not tell people not to rape?

What a concept, eh?

I think this wonderful poster pretty much says it all.

Except to say this:

If you believe in, support, look fondly on, hope for, and/or work towards equality of the sexes, you are a feminist. 

Yes, you are. 

Welcome to the struggle.

Identity. Mission. Evangelism.

My post a few days ago, "Giving Up Father" has produced some interesting responses and discussions, both here as well as on HOB/D - the listserv of the House of Bishops/Deputies.

I have been watching this discussion with obvious great interest.

Some of the responses have been predictable, some surprising, many edifying. I am particularly grateful to one person's exegesis of the teaching of Jesus about "Call no man Father." (Mt 23:9)

I did get a few very angry offline comments from a few folk - one from a man who said he was 78 years old and had always been known as "Father" and, while I could call myself anything I wanted (followed by a few uncharitable suggestions), he didn't intend to change now.

Obviously, my question has pulled at a tender nerve. Imagine! It's still tender after 37 years.

This discussion began with my challenge to consider moving away from the paradigm of 'church family' to a model of 'community of faith/prayer' - the language of "Father/Mother/Sister/Brother" not being helpful to the edification - at least in my 25 years of ordained service to the church.

I've known more "real" families who treat their members better than most "church families". And, I'm not just talking about the hot-button issues of gender, sexuality, war, or other national politics. It's pretty shocking and deeply disturbing to me to see how "Christian" brothers and sisters treat each other.

Yes, it has to do with evangelism, but only because my question strikes at the heart of the question of identity. We say that we are 'representatives of Jesus". We say the Church is 'the Body of Christ".

Jesus posed this question to his disciples: "Who do you say that I am?"

Not "they". "YOU"!

It's a question each disciple has to answer for her/himself. It's a question that The Episcopal Church, as a richly varied consortium of diverse bodies of Christ, is struggling with today.

I believe that, unless and until we are able to clearly articulate that identity, we are not going to be able to develop an effective mission/evangelism strategy that will touch people's hearts and inspire their souls to begin or continue the journey to know and love God and serve the people of God through Christ Jesus.

I suspect that, beyond the issues of gender equality, this is why the question of "Father/Mother/Sister/Brother" is such a hot button issue.

We can say, for example, that "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You" and that we stand on the side of the angels in terms of the prophetic call to peace and justice, but that doesn't exactly ring true in all of our congregations and dioceses, does it?

We welcome you to join us - BUT - we don't want any controversy here about the War(s) or the national deficit. We are a 'warm, welcoming community who take care of each other'. See?

We welcome you to join us and help in our soup kitchen or food pantry because it will make you feel so good to help "others" - BUT - we don't want to deal with systemic issues of poverty and hunger. Too much controversy. See?

We welcome you to join us and help us on the altar guild or buildings and grounds committee or the Vestry and, yes, please, give us your pledge/tithe - BUT - if you feel called to ordained leadership and you are a woman or a Queer person, well, let's talk about "empowered lay ministry" - OR - if we do agree to ordain you, you've got to be willing to take less pay for equal work because, well, you know, we're all about justice.

Which is why we want you to call our clergy "Father" or "Mother". See? We're just one big happy, warm, welcoming church family.

It doesn't work. Some folks can stiff that out in less than a NY minute.

What was it that Tennessee William's character, Big Daddy, said in "A Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"?

"What's that smell in this room? Didn't you notice it Brick? Didn't you notice a powerful and obnoxious odor of mendacity in this room?...There ain't nothin' more powerful than the odor of mendacity...You can smell it. It smells like death."

I know. I know. The Anglican Covenant tries to clarify that identity for us. I must say that, as I read that description, some of it rings familiar, some of it causes my left eyebrow to rise in varying amounts of amusement or confusion, and some of it, frankly, makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

In the main, I am left astonished that the Church of England, which, by all reports, is in MUCH worse shape in UK than any Episcopal Church in the US, is trying to dictate to us what it means to be Anglican. Talk about being 'cheeky'.

One last thought - Do you suppose it was Tuesday or Wednesday after the Resurrection that Peter looked around that Upper Room and slapped his hand on the table and said, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm going fishing."?

One account says that he and some of the apostles went back to doing what they knew how to do. They went fishing. And, in the process of moving from a position of their own personal strength, found Jesus.

Another account says that he and some of the apostles were on the Road to Emmaus, just talking about the events of the past few days and comparing that with what they knew in Scripture with someone they thought was a stranger, and, lo!, they discovered Jesus in their midst.

I think the discovering of our Christian identity will come when we're out doing mission from a place of strength in our own lives. Or, just talking with some fellow companions about what's going on in the world in light of what we know in Scripture.

Jesus tends to show up right in the middle of the common, everyday events of our lives. I think the biggest mistake we make is trying to do what we "should" be doing rather than what we know we "can" do well.

Jesus comes to us in those moments, when we are discerning and learning, or using the gifts we've been given to the glory of God and in service of others and, just like a powdermilk biscuit from Lake Woebegone, shy persons are given the strength to get up and do what needs to be done.

Evangelism follows mission, in my experience. And, Christian identity becomes clarified and edified in the process of mission and evangelism.

Sorry, I know I'm not giving easy answers. No Top Ten list of "Do This" or "Don't Do That". All the instruction I ever needed was in my Baptismal Covenant. (Oh, no, not the Baptismal Covenant again! Will she ever stop?).

Sorry. The Baptismal Covenant is a wonderful description for me of what it means to be Christian and an Episcopalian who is a member of the world wide Anglican Communion. It's my starting point for identity, and mission and evangelism.

No, I'm not talking about producing a document that tells us what it means to be Episcopalian, much less what it means to be an Anglican that we can all sign on and feel right with the world.

Neither am I calling for a resolution at General Convention, with lots of "wherefores" and "be it further resolveds" as a solution to everything that ails us.

What I am calling for - in this Age of Uncertainty - is not answers. Indeed, I am calling the question, as it were. I'm asking for us to begin to take seriously the question of Jesus, "Who do YOU say that I am?"

How does that square for you with the title you bring to your office - lay or ordained - and what are you doing about who you think Jesus is and how that gives shape and form to your own sense of self and your identity as a Christian?

How does the answer to that question impact and inform your church's identity as a Body of Christ?

Answer those questions first and we just might all find ourselves on the beach, eating with Jesus, and distributing the rest of the catch to those in need.

Pentecost Pie

I've been experimenting in the kitchen this week with recipes for summer desserts.

We've got some birthday parties / celebrations on the calendar over the next month or so. It's always difficult to know what to bring to a 'pot luck', but summer, I think, poses special problems. 

There's always a summery Jell-O mold or a bowl of fruit, but I've been looking for something more creative and .... um.... 'substantial'. You know what I mean?

Have you noticed how many people have dietary restrictions? Either it's 'low calorie' or 'low fat' or allergies or food intolerance. 

I've been looking for recipes I can adapt to be low-fat, low calorie and gluten-free and still yields something that tastes as good as the regular.

I've found two recipes that I'm particularly fond of and thought I'd share them with you. You know. Because it's Pentecost and everyone can eat the same thing in their own way and everyone will understand.

The first is a cheesecake. The other is a ricotta pie.

Both of these can be made with or without crusts.  If you need gluten-free, use the crust recipe with ground nuts - it works really well and I actually prefer this version even though I'm not gluten-intolerant. You will need a food processor to finely grind the nuts. If you're allergic to nuts or are not gluten-intolerant, use graham cracker crumbs, in equivalent amounts called for in the recipe.

If you can't have either nuts or graham cracker crumbs - or prefer not to - the cheesecake will still bake up well in the spring form pan without a crust. Just make sure to spray PAM or smear margarine or butter all over the pan in generous amounts. The ricotta pie can be spooned into individual serving cups and garnished.

If you have no restrictions to your diet, use cream, regular cream cheese, sour cream and ricotta cheese. If not, you can use equivalent amounts called for in the recipe of fat-free half-and-half, reduced fat or fat free cream cheese, sour cream and ricotta cheese.

Don't worry if the cheesecake splits after baking. You can make them "disappear" with the topping.

If you are concerned with calorie reduction or need to be sugar-free, use granulated sugar substitute like Splenda or Truvia/Stevia in equivalent amounts.

I've tried all the variations of the above and all are delicious. Even the 'diet' versions are sure to please those who have no dietary restrictions. So, depending on where you're going and who's going to be there, everyone can relax and enjoy.

It sure beats a Jell-O mold or just a bowl of fruit! And, you'll be the star of the party - and a real hero to those watching their calories and fat content and/or those who need a gluten-free diet.

CHEESECAKE

Crust:
1 cup pine nuts or pecans (I prefer pecans)
1 cup unsalted macadamia nuts
1½ tablespoons granular sugar substitute
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Filling:
16 ounces cream cheese
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons granular sugar substitute
3 large eggs
1 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (about 1 large lemon)
¼ teaspoon salt.

Topping: 1 1/2 cups sour cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp grated lemon zest
1 tablespoon granular sugar substitute.

DIRECTIONS: Preheat oven to 350°F.

To make the crust: In a food processor, pulse nuts and sugar substitute until finely ground. Add butter and pulse to combine. Using your fingers, gently press nut mixture into the bottom a 9 spring form pan. Bake 10 minutes and remove from oven to cool.

To make filling: In a food processor, pulse cream cheese and sugar substitute in until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, pulsing well and scraping down bowl as necessary. Add sour cream, vanilla, zest and salt, pulsing just to combine. Pour filling into prepared crust. Bake 40 minutes. Turn off oven; let cheesecake cool for one hour without opening door. Chill 12 to 24 hours. Mix all topping ingredients and spread on top of cooled cheesecake. Serve with garnish of blueberries of strawberries, if desired.

RICOTTA PIE

CRUST:
two cups of pecans
two cups macadamia nuts
three T granular Splenda or sugar substitute (or, just use regular sugar)
6 Tsp. melted margarine (or butter).
Pulse nuts in food processor until finely ground.
Add Splenda/sugar and melted margarine/butter, stirring well.
Press into a pie plate and bake in 350 oven for 10 minutes.

FILLING:
two cups Ricotta Cheese ( I used low fat)
one cup Cool-Whip Free (or one cup of whipped cream)
1-2 packages Jello (I use sugar free) of your favorite flavor (I used Raspberry).
NOTE: Just use the granulated jello. DO NOT actually make the jello.
Three Tsp. lemon zest.
OPTIONAL: 3/4 cup sliced fruit of your choice

TOPPING:
two cups sour cream
one tsp vanilla extract
one tsp grated lemon zest
one tablespoon granular sugar substitute.

DIRECTIONS:
Mix all ingredients together - using the amount of Jello to the color/taste you prefer (I used the entire 2 packages) OPTIONAL: 3/4 cup raspberries (or whatever fruit you like). Pour into pie plate. Mix in 3 Tsp. lemon zest into two cups of Cool-Whip free (or, whipped cream) and cover the pie with the topping.  Chill for a few hours before serving.
OPTIONAL Garnish with fresh fruit and a few sprigs of fresh mint.

Shekinah

Pat Fulmer

Well, church, tomorrow is Pentecost Sunday - the day when Jesus gave us the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Please take out your 1982 Hymnal and turn to the section near the back - Hymns numbered 500 through 516 - and let's look at all the hymns about the Holy Spirit.

Without a doubt, there are some lovely hymns there. "Come Holy Spirit, heavenly dove" (510). "Holy Spirit, ever living" (511). "Like the murmur of the dove's song" (513). And, of course, the perennial favorite, "Come down, O Love Divine" (516).

There's also 502 "Come Holy Ghost, our souls inspire" - of't chanted by the bishop and congregation just before the moment of ordination and made even more effective when preceded and followed by a prolonged moment of silence.

And, who could forget Edwin Hatch's moving "Breathe on me Breath of God" (508)?

They are lovely, aren't they?

Many of them sound like lullabies when they don't sound simply grand. We ask the Spirit to 'guide us' and 'lead us'. To breathe on us and "fill us with life anew". To "kindle a flame of sacred love in these cold hearts of ours."

I was taught - way, way, back, when I was in seminary - that the Hymnal is the church's theology book for the people in the pew. If that is so - and I think, for the most part and in many cases, it is - what do the words and music teach us about the Holy Spirit?

Well, I think the church teaches us what it wants us to know about the work of the Third Person of the Trinity in our lives of faith.

So, here's my question: Is that all there is to know about the Holy Spirit? Does that really square with what we read in ACTS 2:1-21?

So, put down your hymnals and open your bibles to the second chapter of the Book of Acts.

What? No bibles in your pew? Ah, that's right. We're in The Episcopal Church. We can't always quote chapter and verse, but we can tell you where to find things in the Book of Common Prayer.

Well, let's see. Hmm... No 'murmur of the dove's song". Scripture says, "And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting".

No "kindling of a flame". Scripture says, "Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them".

No "gentle spirit of guidance". Scripture says, "All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, "What does this mean?" But others sneered and said, "They are filled with new wine."

One year, when I was Vicar of a small, rag-tag inner city mission in the City of Newark, we decided to celebrate Pentecost with Eucharist out in the church yard, followed by an "international" Pot Luck Picnic.

My, my, and what a feast it was! There was curried goat and bean pie, collard greens and ham hocks, macaroni and cheese and chitlins, fried chicken and sweet potato pie.

Oh, and did I mention the fried apples? I loves me some fried apples.

After the service, I sat with one of my favorite parishioners, Miz Eula Jefferson. As we ate our marvelous feast, we shared some small talk about the kids playing jump rope and baseball - and, my, hasn't he gotten tall, and isn't she so pretty - when Ms. Jefferson zeroed in on me.

"Lemme ax you a question, Rev," she said in her South Carolinian drawl.

"Sure," I said.

"So, do you believe all that stuff we just sang in there?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.

"Oh, you know, 'bout the Holy Spirit?"

"Well, yes, m'am. I mean... I'm not sure what you're asking, Ms. Jefferson."

She smiled and shifted her weight in the folding chair that was shifting in the soft grass of the church lawn.

I should have known by her smile that I was in trouble.

"Well," she said, "I don't mean no offense, and mebe it's just me, but in my experience - and you'll 'scuse my french - White People don't know shit about the Holy Spirit."

I laughed. Right out loud. I mean, what else was I supposed to do?

"I can say that to you, Rev, because you ain't like most White people," she said as she took my hand.

"Really?" I said, "How so?"

"Oh, you crazy, girl."

I laughed again. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Huh!" she said, not smiling. "If I was to believe what was in them songs about the Holy Spirit, then I gotsta believe that you White people don't know shit about the Holy Spirit. 'Scuse my french."

"Tell me about that," I said, softly. I really wanted to know.

"Well, where I growd up, we had a name for the Holy Spirit. Sometimes, we call her "Holy Ghost," but mostly the women call her name 'Shekinah'". She pronounced it "Shek-e-NAH". It sounded distinctly Hebraic.

"Lemme tell you about Shekinah," she said, tilting her head back and looking out somewhere beyond the chain link fence that surrounded the church - the one with the barbed wire curled all around the top that had been put up after the 1967 riots that I was trying to get the diocese to take down. Well, at least the barbed wire.

"Oh, she come to you. Sometime when you call her and sometime when you don't. Sometime, she talk all sweet and nice and sometime she knock you upside the head and knock you on your behind so's you can't talk no sense no how. It all depend on how long she been tryin' to get your attention and if you've been mindin' her."

"First thing she do, though, if you haven't already met Jesus, is to introduce you to Him. So, you start listenin' and readin' an learnin', and pretty soon, your life gonna be completely turned upside down."

"That's if you payin' attention," she said. "If you not, then Jesus calls Shekinah back in to start working over your soul."

Shekinah

"Lemme tell you somethin'," she said, "That girl is crazy. CRAZY. You know what I'm sayin'? C.R.A.Z.Y.," she laughed.

"Shekinah will stop at nothin' - absolutely nothin' - to get you right with God.

Jesus will talk and teach, but if you don't be gettin' it, Shekinah will come into your life and slap you silly until you do."

"Now, lemme give you a for instance. Remember Rosa Parks? Yes, chile, I know you do, cuzin' you preached on her jus the other Sunday. And, you preached it, girl. That was good preachin'. I about had a 'glory attack', flat out, jus hearin' a white girl preach so well about one of us."

"So, Rosa Parks is tire. She tire to the bone. Weary in her soul kinda tire. Bus driver say, 'Back a the bus', and she don't wanna. She know it ain't right. She know it cuzin' Jesus tole her so."

"She knowd the teaching of Jesus, but what she gonna do? The White man say, 'Back a the bus' and you know you gotsta do what the White man say do."

"Well, chile, I knowd women like Miz. Parks. She jus roll her eyes and prayed, 'Lawd, gimme strength'. Now, here's the thing," Miz Jefferson said, leaning into me so I would hear her clearly.

"You gotsta be real careful what you pray for wid the Lawd," she chuckled, "because sometimes, you gets jus what you prayed for, and then, your whole life be turned upside down until you got it right with the Lawd."

"Well," she laughed again, "the Lawd done answered her prayer cuz fore you know it, here come Shekinah, big and bad as life. She done took one look at the situation, looked right at that sign that said, 'Whites only' and it caused her to get so mad  cuzin she knew that the Lawd didn't write that sign. White men wrote that sign."

"So Shekinah, she start to breathin' fire and she done blowd that poor woman, Miz Parks, right into that seat that was supposed to be for White peoples only."

"And the rest," she said, as she sat back in her folding chair, "is Civil Right's history."

"Yes, chile," she sighed, "that's the power of Shekinah. That's Holy Ghost power. Jesus will teach you what God wants, but Shekinah shows you the glory of God. And, that glory look like justice."

We were quite for a while as we both let that story swirl around us before the power of it sunk into a deeper place in our souls.

Suddenly, she broke the silence and said, "I tole you that story because I know you know Shekinah. I know you know that Glory power."

"How do you know that, Miz Jefferson," I asked, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes and feeling suddenly naked.

"Huh," she said. "The first day you came to us - June 5th, lass year, I'll never forget it. There you were, wid your skinny White self - no bosom to speak of but you got yourself a decent behind and nice shape to your leg - and all those children and no man in sight 'cept for that other white woman who loves you to death. I said, 'Lawd a mercy, another lamb to the slaughter'."

"And then, you walked from your proper place up there and came down among us - bold as you please and jus like you belonged there - and you said, 'Morning, church.' And, I thought, 'Well, a'right'. And, you preached the gospel that day, girl. You really did. And I turned to Mrs. Smith, who always sits next to me, and I say, 'Well, this girl knows Jesus, but she also knows something about Shekinah."

"How did you know that?" I asked, softly.

"Oh, you gots some learnin' in you, that's for sure. You studied Jesus and you know Jesus. But, who do you think it was put that fire under your feet and made you walk into a church filled with colored people and smile like you was one of us and say, 'Morning, church!"?

"That's Shekinah! Couldna been any body else. Shekinah done messed with you a time or two, hasn't she, Rev?"

"Yes, m'am," I said as a tear rolled down my face.

"Yes, chile, yes. I know. I can see it in your eyes."

"It's good. It's good, you know?" she said as she took my hand. "You've climbed a few mountains in your time. I can see that. And, you've gotten over. You didn't know how you got over, but you got over. And, now I'm gonna tell you how you got over, okay?"

"Yes, m'am," I said, reaching for a napkin.

"Listen. Listen at me, okay? Listen," she said as she leaned in again. "If the mountain was flat, you couldn't climb it."

I stared at her, understanding and yet not quite understanding.

"If the mountain was flat, you couldn't climb it," she repeated. "God makes mountains for us to climb. Jesus teaches us the way to climb the mountain. But, Shekinah, well, Shekinah gives us the strength to climb that mountain."

"You hear me?," she asked, "You get what I'm sayin' to you?"

"Yes, m'am," I said, whipping the tears from my eyes, "Yes, I believe I do."

"Okay, then," she said, rocking herself in the folding chair.

"And, I'm jus sayin' that you ain't gonna learn that about the Holy Spirit from those songs you sing in that church. You understand?"

"Yes, m'am, I said.

We were quiet again for awhile and then, suddenly, Miz Jefferson started to sing

Ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray
O ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray.

A few of the women sitting at the other tables heard her and joined her in the chorus. By the third time, the whole church yard started to sing:

Ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray
O ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray.

Miz Jefferson continued in the 'call and response' style of Negro spirituals:

Upon de mountain my Lord spoke
Out o’ his mouth came fire and smoke

And, then the whole church yard - some 100 people, including me and all the children, joined her in the song:

Ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray
O ev’ry time I feel de spirit, movin’ in my heart, I will pray.

This went on for several verses, some of which I swear she made up right there on the spot. People were laughing and smiling and nodding to each other as if to say, "That was a good one," before joining in on the chorus.

They were clapping their hands and dancing around - sometimes with each other and sometimes all by themselves. To anyone passing by, it must have looked like we had broken into the wine and were all drunk. It was as if Shekinah herself had come to the party.

In fact, I believe she had. Might have been one of the first times the Holy Spirit had actually showed up at that little Episcopal Church.

It was a 'Glory attack', flat out.

And, it was the best - if not, perhaps, the first - Pentecost I ever experienced.  Better than anything in any Episcopal Church I've ever attended.

And, very, very different from anything I ever learned from any hymn in the Episcopal Hymnal I ever sang.

Except, next time you sing, "Breathe on me Breath of God, till I am wholly thine, till all this earthly part of me glows with thy fire divine," just be careful what you are singing.

Shekinah may just show up.  Best to fasten your seat belt, then.  Might not hurt to put on a crash helmet, too.  And, brace yourself for a flat-out 'Glory attack'.

You just never know what might happen next.

As Miz Jefferson says, "Lemme tell you somthin'. That girl is crazy."