New Wine

Last night, I met with a group of students who are part of the Chaplaincy at a local university. Smart. Committed. Passionate about their faith and their church. Intellectually curious. I just love this age group.

They are considering being members of the campus organization of Christians - mostly a group of evangelicals who are equally smart, committed and passionate about their faith and their church.

Intellectually curious? Well, in terms of religion? Not so much. They have the answers, you see. They've even written them out in a Statement that everyone has to sign before becoming a member of the group.

Hmm . . . where have we seen this before?

The Statement reads very much like the 39 Articles which Episcopalians can find in the back section of the Book of Common Prayer. Nothing surprising, really, so there really shouldn't be any problem signing on, right?

Umm . . . well, among some other troubling statements on The Statement, there was this little piece:

We believe in the universal sinfulness and guilt of all people since the Fall, rendering them subject to God's wrath and condemnation.

Okay, class, let's compare and contrast with what the BCP Outline of Faith (commonly called the Catechism) has to say about Human Nature:

Q. What are we by nature?
A. We are part of God's creation, made in the image of God.

Q. What does it mean to be created in the image of God?
A. It means that we are free to make choices: to love, to create, to reason, and to live in harmony with creation and with God.

Q. Why then do we live apart from God and out of harmony with creation?
A. From the beginning, human beings have misused their freedom and made wrong choices.

Q. Why do we not use our freedom as we should?
A. Because we rebel against God, and we put ourselves in the place of God.

Q, What help is there for us?
A. Our help is in God.

Q. How did God first help us?
A. God first helped us by revealing himself and his will, through nature and history, through many seers and saints, and especially the prophets of Israel.

Not exactly the theology of "original blessing" but neither is it the "total depravity" of Calvinism. Just somewhere in the middle. Where Anglicans live. You know. On the Via Media.

So, why sign onto such a document? Well, two reasons. The first is that this organization really controls the vehicle for Christian evangelism on campus. During Orientation in the Fall, incoming students who might be looking for a place to be spiritually nourished currently will not find Episcopalians listed among their options. Neither will they find Lutherans.

Until recently, they wouldn't have found the Roman Catholics, either - well, not there in the material, exactly - but they just signed on as 'affiliate members' because the statement didn't say enough.

Imagine! I've always found dueling arrogance to be so unattractive, don't you?

The other, more compelling, reason is that these students really 'get' the whole thing Jesus was praying about us all "being one". They have already decided that they can not sign onto "The Statement", but they think it's important to their faith to be an 'affiliate' part of an organization of Christians with whom they do not agree on everything.

I'm thinking a few Confirmation Class teachers did a good job somewhere.

This affiliate status is not without its problems. Example: What happens if the student they appoint as their liaison to the group, as affiliate members, were lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender? There's nothing in The Statement about that, explicitly, but we already 'know' their position on the issue of sexual orientation.

Well, asked one student, with an unmistakable smirk on his face, how would they know our sexual orientation unless we told them?

Wait, said another student, that sounds too much like, 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' and I just can't subscribe to that.

Besides, said someone else, might it not be a witness to our faith NOT to be affiliated with this group? Is there not a way that we can make our voice just as loud as theirs so folks will find us?

I have seen the future of The Episcopal Church and I tell you, it is good. It is very good, indeed.

So, why was I there? Good question. I'll be damned if I know - except that I was invited by their chaplain to 'give them some language' they could use with the members of this evangelical group about what it means to be Episcopalian/Anglican and part of a religious institution that contains both Reformed and Catholic theology and praxis.

Right.

I mean, that's the problem, isn't it? Evangelical Christians and Anglican Christians don't share a common language of faith. That's because our world views are so very different. This is primarily due to the fact that we start at such very different places in The Garden.

I've been having these conversations with Evangelicals for a long, long time about a variety of issues and I've never discovered a way into a common language.

I'm sad to admit this, but, after 25 years, I'm convinced that it simply is not possible.

I understand. They start in The Garden and read the story, on some very basic level, as The Truth. I start in The Garden and read the story, on some very basic level, as a Myth. A cherished myth, to be sure - one that gives me a starting place to begin to understand the unfolding, unfinished story of God's relationship with us in creation. But, that's the point: it's an unfolding, unfinished story.

Check out the differences between The Statement and The BCP Outline of Faith:

From the folks who wrote The Statement:

We believe in the divine inspiration, entire trustworthiness, and infallibility of the Bible as it was originally given; it is the only written Word of God and has supreme authority in all matters of faith and conduct.

From the BCP Outline of Faith:

Q: Why do we call the Holy Scriptures the Word of God?
A: We call them the Word of God because God inspired their human authors and because God still speaks to us through the Bible.

Q: How do we understand the meaning of the Bible?
A: We understand the meaning of the Bible by the help of the Holy Spirit, who guides the Church in the true interpretation of the Scriptures.

Well, there it is, then. How do you have a conversation with someone who, as Gracie Allen would say, insists on putting a period where God has placed a comma?

I must say that the part about "the only written word of God" also makes me cringe. I mean, the arrogance of that is loud and clear and absolutely breathtaking.

My best response, I realize now, was purely Anglican. If you try to engage in a conversation with these folks about their 'doctrine' when we have an "Outline of Faith", you'll either bump heads until you hurt each other, or you'll continue to talk politely past each other.

Either way, as Mark Twain reportedly said, it will be a bit like trying to teach a pig to sing. You'll only get frustrated and it will annoy the pig.  I don't think the point of Christianity is to be either frustrated or annoyed. It's all about repentance and forgiveness and reconciliation.

So, try to stay in that middle ground - the one between where they are and you are. Agree to disagree on some things and work in the areas where you both agree. You both love Jesus. You both want to bring Jesus to the world and the world to Jesus. Talk about that. Indeed, invite them to your fellowship so they can see how it is you understand and try to live the Gospel. Go to their fellowship meetings so you can see how it is they understand and try to live the Gospel.

That is a very noble posture. I think it would gladden the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

Or, take a stand on your own. Members of the church have done that throughout the history and tradition of the church. It happened to Galileo when he insisted that the world was not flat. He lost his life for it but the church did apologize for that. Okay, so it was thousands of years after his death, but they at least admitted that they were wrong. That's pretty big. Huge, in fact, for a group that considers itself infallible in matters of faith - scientific evidence not withstanding.

The church supported slavery for thousands of years, based on what scripture has to say about the matter. Indeed, some Episcopalians - and even some Episcopal bishops - owned slaves. The church was also wrong about left handed people, and people with mental illness or epilepsy, and whether or not women were fully human.

In each case, some courageous members of the church stood up and said, "Hey, wait a minute. That's not right." And, they left the institutional church rather than support something they felt was evidence of a corruption of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Martin Luther did that when he nailed his 95 Thesis to the door of the Castle Church at Wittenberg to protest the church's sale of indulgences.  And, with that, the church was reformed. Well, one part of it was, anyway. Another part still is not.

There is great nobility in taking a stand for what you believe about the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I think courageous acts like these also gladden the Sacred Heart of Jesus, even if it means that we are not 'all one'. Well, we're still united in our love of Jesus, just not in the same room or church or expressing it in the same way. 

If you sacrifice the essentials of what you believe and compromise your integrity, what value is their in your unity?

Even so, the worst thing to happen would be to do nothing - neither try to affiliate with zealous Christian evangelicals nor take a passionate stand for what it is you believe.

Believe Out Loud

The gospel calls us to live our beliefs out loud so that others can hear the call of Jesus. The dictum that teaches us to 'get along to get ahead' rarely works. Eventually, it will collapse on itself - as mediocrity always does.

The Gospel we read at the community Eucharist last night was from John 14:1-9.  Jesus says that in God's house there are many mansions or rooms.  

I couldn't help but notice, on my way out of the building, that there was a separate Kosher kitchen. And, a separate Muslim Prayer Room. All within the same building.

I smiled as I remembered that C.S. Lewis once described the Anglican Communion as "the roomiest room" in all of Western Christendom.

As I was driving home, I realized that the soup I was served at their supper stood as an apt metaphor for what happens when you try to be all things to all people.

I was told it was Portuguese soup. Yum, yum. As a good Portuguese girl with roots in Fall River, MA, I was really looking forward to some hearty, peasant food on a rainy, bone-chilling night in Boston.

Well . . . . so . . . . see. . . there are vegetarians in the group. So, the 'stock' was a container of prepared vegetable broth. Some chopped, previously cooked potatoes and onions were added to the broth - just before serving. Then, some kale was added and cooked al dente.

I don't think I've ever eaten Portuguese soup that wasn't at least a day old. You know, when the potatoes get mushy and the kale is limp and all the seasonings have a chance to marinate.

Never mind. On the side was a small bowl of sliced chorizo - a spicy Portuguese sausage that one could add - along with a small container of some crushed hot peppers that were sooOOoo hot the cook said she got a chemical burn when some of it splashed on her hand.

You know, it wasn't bad. I mean, it looked pretty much like Portuguese soup. It smelled pretty much like Portuguese soup. But, I have to tell you, it was decidedly not Portuguese soup.

I don't think the Vegetarians were thrilled, either. I noticed they ate more of the cheese and bread than the soup. Come to think of it, I've never really known people who drink non-alcoholic beer to rave about the stuff.

Better, I think, to have made REAL Portuguese soup and then some REAL vegetarian soup like tomato or cream of asparagus. Separate and equally attractively served.

Vegetarian and carnivore Christians alike could then sit together at the same table, share fellowship and conversation and be fed and nourished and satisfied without arguing about the nutritional benefits of a vegetarian diet or wax rhapsodic about the quality of beef, pork and chicken.

The whole conversation, I'm thinking in the gloomy light of yet another dismal rainy day in Cambridge, is a microcosm of what's going on in the Anglican Communion right now in terms of the Anglican Covenant.

Until last night, I was willing to entertain the thought that it might not be so bad if General Convention voted to "accede to" or "affiliate with" the Anglican Covenant, vs. "sign on to" and "accept" it as part of our identity.

Not so much today.

I don't know what those students will decide to do, but they certainly helped me clarify what I think we, as the Episcopal Church and a member of The Anglican Communion need to do about the Anglican Covenant.

I keep thinking about what the Catechism says about Human Nature: "We are made in the image of God. We are free to make choices: to love, to create, to reason, and to live in harmony with creation and with God." 

And, I keep thinking about that vegetarian Portuguese soup.

It sounded like a good idea. It wasn't bad. It just didn't satisfy everybody.

Maybe nothing can.

The best we can do is to live authentically in the best way we know how.

And then, everyone can eat hearty and be fed and nourished.

Together.

Arnold and Maria

My grandmother always said that I should live my life as if everyone would know everything about me because, eventually, everyone will.

I've thought about that advice as I've watched the unfolding of the sad story of the divorce, after a 25 year marriage, of Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Rumors have long swirled about Arnold's . . .um . . . "indiscretions". Indeed, there was a rumor that he had fathered a child with a woman who worked at the couple’s Brentwood estate. That was eight years ago, when "The Terminator" was in the midst of an attempt to unseat Gray Davis, the Democratic governor.

Those rumors got sidetracked as Arnold had to deal with a barrage of seemingly more credible allegations that he had groped and molested women during his years as a movie star. Maria "stood by her man" and battled back forcefully, contributing in large part to his victory.

Turns out, the rumors were true. On Monday night, responding to an inquiry by the LA Times, Arnold issued the following statement:

“After leaving the governor’s office I told my wife about this event, which occurred over a decade ago. I understand and deserve the feelings of anger and disappointment among my friends and family. There are no excuses, and I take full responsibility for the hurt I have caused. I have apologized to Maria, my children and my family. I am truly sorry.”

I have no doubt that he is. Sorry. How could he not be?

I'm sure he's sorry for what "the event" has done to his wife and four children.

I'm convinced he's most sorry about what "the event" has done to his image and political career.

You'll excuse me if I'm just not sure he's sorry for "the event" with a member of his household staff.

His career as a movie star will go essentially untarnished. He'll still get movie deals. Hollywood is already making light of the situation by jokingly changing his name from "The Terminator" to "The Sperminator," and asking, "Who knew that Arnold was pumping more than iron?".

Ha. Ha. Ha. You'll excuse me if I don't find that funny.

Indeed, he's apparently in negotiations now for more films. Maria, on the other hand, who gave up her career as a television journalist to star in her role as The Governor's Wife, is still trying to figure out the next steps for her life.

The story is getting a lot of play in the media here in Bean Town, home of the Kennedy family. The local TV stations are, understandably, I suppose, contributing a great deal of airtime to the saga - complete with flashy "Breaking News" graphics and dramatic sound effects.

Honest to Pete! You'd think some major catastrophe had occurred and the citizenry had to be informed.

One of those "breaking news" events consisted of a brief interview with Joan Kennedy, former wife of Ted Kennedy (who died in 2009 of a brain tumor). She looked as if life had not treated her kindly over the years.  It hasn't. Once a beautiful woman, it broke my heart to see her puffy face and the vacant look in her eyes.

The "breaking news" was a brief quote from Joan who said that she was "very sad" about the news. She also mentioned that Maria was her "favorite niece" and her mother, Eunice Kennedy Shriver (who died last year), was her "favorite sister in law". R. Sargent Shriver, Maria's father died in January after a long battle with Alzheimer's Disease.

Sad? Of course, she's sad. That's a great deal of loss, even for a family that has been marked by tragedy and loss - some of it of their own doing.

I know, I know. There are LOTS of other news stories which should rightly capture the better portion of our interest and attention. The flooding in the Southern parts of the United States. The economy. Unemployment. The deficit.

And, the stunning, heartbreaking news that The Donald will not be seeking the Republican nomination for President. I suppose the $50 Million dollars offered to him by NBC will allow him to pursue other important matters like his "Cirque des Phenomenes" - otherwise known as "Celebrity Apprentice" - leaving us all to wonder who will drive the Republican Clown Car now?

I grew up in the shadow of the high-voltage star power of the Kennedy's here in Massachusetts, so, you'll forgive my interest in this - especially as it pertains to the whole subject of marriage.

I'm deeply struck by the irony that the case for marriage equality in California was entitled "Perry v. Schwarzenegger" - and that it was gay and lesbian couples who were under scrutiny for "undermining the sanctity of marriage".

Sanctity of marriage.

Oh, yes. There have been so many stellar examples of that. John Edwards. Mark Sanford. Newt Gingrich - who was trumpeting Bill Clinton's indiscretions even while he was having an affair of his own.  The man is actually pursing the Republican nomination for President.

And then there's Brittany Spear's 55 hour marriage.

Irony doesn't even begin to come close to describing it.

Hypocrisy is a much better word.

If anything, that hypocrisy contributes to the surprising rise of support among increasing numbers of conservative Republicans for Marriage Equality, some of whom are,reportedly, financing the movement to make Marriage Equality a reality in New York.

Some of those involved have made what might be termed the pro-business argument for same-sex marriage, arguing that the legalization of same-sex marriage would help keep New York economically competitive.

Whatever. I suppose if you can't appeal the case on the issue of basic human and civil rights, you go directly to the 'bottom line', which always has a dollar sign in front of it.

There has also been an interesting frequency of 'big names' who are 'coming out' publicly. Just this week, Rick Weltz, President of the Phoenix Suns, joined CNN anchor Don Lemon in their escape from behind the Lavender Curtain.

Although Anderson Cooper and Shepherd Smith have yet to self-disclose, OUT Magazine recently named them among their Power Fifty list which honors extraordinary gays and lesbians.

This, despite the words from their colleague, Rachel Maddow, who recently said in an interview, "I'm sure other people in the business have considered reasons why they're doing what they're doing, but I do think that if you're gay you have a responsibility to come out".

Responsibility.

What a quaint little word.

How ironic, for some, that a lesbian woman might have the temerity to use it.

Ultimately, that's the final word on the story of Arnold and Maria. It's all about responsibility. Oh, and integrity. You know, what you have so you don't become a hypocrite.

Yes, a hypocrite. You know. Someone who gropes and molests women like so much sausage and has affairs - and a child - with someone in your employ.

And, keeps the information about the affair and the child a secret from his wife and children and staff and electing public for fourteen years while suggesting that Queer People are a threat to the 'sanctity of marriage'.  

Maria Shriver has issued a statement that read, simply:

“As a mother, my concern is for the children. I ask for compassion, respect and privacy as my children and I try to rebuild our lives and heal. I will have no further comment.”

I can respect that, and I have enormous compassion for her and her family.

Arnold? Not so much.

And, don't expect me to have much 'compassion' for Dominique Strauss-Kahn, managing director of the International Monetary Fund in Washington since late 2007, who recently helped to engineer a $1 trillion bailout for Europe and is was considered the Socialist party’s leading candidate for president of France.

Today, he sits in a jail cell at Rikers Island in New York after his arrest on charges of attempted rape of a hotel maid in Manhattan last weekend. He's a known womanizer, but that 'little character flaw' has been accepted because of his intelligence, charm and numerous accomplishments - and probably because of the reported culture of his country of birth understands and accepts that, well, "Les hommes sont des hommes" ("Men are men").

The French! What do you expect from those notorious “chauds lapins” ("hot rabbits")?

Answer: Responsibility. Integrity. Transparency.

Because, you know, I don't care who you are or where you're from or whether you are male or female, old or young, black or white, gay or straight, rich or poor.  My grandmother was right.

Eventually, everyone will know everything about you.

Better to live your life with an acute awareness of that fact.

Ultimately, you'll not only hurt yourself, but those you love. 

Rain and Art and Death

It's been raining all week in Bean Town. And, it's chilly.

The forecast is for the rain and un-seasonally cold temperatures to continue all week. It's been in the high-40's to mid-50s.

Sorta puts a cramp in my walking style.

I don't mind the rain, and neither does my wonderful pup, Theo. It's the cold, damp rain that gets to me. And, the unpredictability of when there's going to be an actual downpour, rather than feeling like you're walking through a cold cup of tea that's been left out all night.

The dreariness of the dark clouds and the constant, cold drizzle are a much better visual image of what I imagine hell must be like. If there is fire in eternal damnation, at least it will be bright and warm and dry. 

I took a walk to the Post Office earlier this morning, normally a ten minute trek - well, if you don't count stopping off at Darwin's for a cuppa joe and The Boston Globe and picking up some fresh fruit and vegetables and maybe talking to someone in the store about a particular blend of coffee or tea, or someone on the sidewalk who is out walking their dog.

We'll not be going to Memorial Drive today - one of Theo and my favorite places to walk. There's something about the banks of the Dirty Water of the River Charles that have always been irresistible and magical for me.

On a sunny day, the whole area has the feeling of being in a modern version of a George Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte".

I've always loved this painting. Always. There's something transcendent about it. It's not about portraying a particular time period, or some grand historical event or passionate moment. Seurat seems to capture the beauty of the banal - the ordinary stuff of being human.

There's a man in uniform playing a bugle. See him? To the right, there is a small child - a young girl - running. Or, is she dancing to the music being played on the bugle?

In the foreground is a black dog who is about to be met by a playful brown puppy. If you look over them, you can see the sailboats in the water. And, there's a row team. If you listen carefully, you can almost hear them, "Rappe! Rappe! Rappe!"

Oh, and look! Is that a monkey at the woman's feet? The one in the foreground holding the umbrella, standing next to the man smoking a cigar in his top hat.

A monkey! How odd! Ah, but then, it's the French! And, it is the later part of the 1800s.

Everyone seems alone in their thoughts, even those who are sitting or standing with someone. Alone, but one does not get the sense of loneliness. We see their shapes, but never their individual personalities. Seurat seems much more interested in the shape of their formal elegance.

And, that they are there. On the Island of La Grande Jatte. As they always are. The French. Out for a stroll. On a lovely, sunny Sunday afternoon.

I remember being thrilled when "Sunday in the Park with George" came to Broadway.  I mean, a musical by Sondheim and Lapine, featuring Bernadette Peters, in a play about a painting? What's not to love about this?

The musical created for me a lifelong fascination with this painting and this artist, so it's probably no accident that I think of it whenever I'm on the banks of the River Charles on a glorious, sunny day.

The other thing that fascinates me about this picture is that Seurat was a young man with a scientific theory to prove. Odd, yes? Imagine, an artist with a scientific theory about art.

His theory was optical, based on the idea that painting in dots, know as pointillism or divisonism, would produce a brighter color than painting in strokes.

If you look at the painting closely (which you can't do with this picture on this blog, unfortunately), you will see that the portrait is comprised of hundreds of thousands of dots of painting, all carefully and meticulously placed on the canvass.

You can see the detail better in this portrait to the right, from his collection "Parade de Cirque" or Circus Sideshow, which has been exaggerated to better illustrate his technique.

You can see the 'science' of the art in the ways in which he used color to highlight and contour and give depth.

I remember hearing that it took him over two years to complete the "Sunday" painting, concentrating painstakingly on the landscape of the park before focusing on the people.

Seurat was a mere 25 years old when he painted this portrait. He would be dead seven years later, at the age of 32.

Now, I should hasten to add that most of what I know about art I learned in a course I had to take in college. Oh, I can tell a Renoir from a Matisse, and I love to go to museums - especially when there's a guided tour, but that's about the extent of my knowledge of art.

I'm fortunate to be able to go into The City and visit MOMA and the Guggenheim,  although I must say that I like the Whitney because it's smaller and more intimate, and very, very American.

I've been to the MFA over on Huntington Ave while I've been here in Boston. Once. It's as lovely a place to visit as I remembered it from my student days. I'll try to get back over there at least once more before I leave.

Actually, my interest in art was piqued when I was at Lesley College (now University) as part of the Expressive Therapies I was dabbling with in the Psychology Program there.

I went to a lecture with Dr. Irvin Yallom, a noted psychiatrist who did pioneering work in Group Therapy. His book, "The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy" is a classic and still remains on my reference shelf.

I remember him talking about the work of Seurat as a metaphor for working with groups. That's when I became interested in this particular artist - especially the illusion of control he seems to convey from everything from the people in the landscape of his life to the brightness of light. And yet, he died at age 32. His two year old son died two days later.

Alas, as the French would say in their brooding, fatalistic way, the only thing he could not control in life was death.

Yallom's latest book (he's a prolific writer of fiction and nonfiction) is called, "Staring at the Sun: Overcoming the Terror of Death".  I have not read this particular book, but I am curious to know if he mentions Seurat's work in it.

Yallom, as a Freudian, is very interested in 'death anxiety', calling it "our dark shadow from which we are never separated."  We all have ways of trying to control our anxiety about death - from taking daring risks like skydiving or car racing, to cosmetic surgery or the occasional use or sometimes abuse of alcohol and drugs.

Yallom suggests that artists like Seurat paint as a way to control anxiety about death, not only by painting something that is alive and now but painting something that will become a legacy of the artist's own life.

It's a way to get this moment, this light, this person on canvass so that the person or moment or light will not fade away but remain alive long after the person has died or the moment has past or the light dimmed.

Czech novelist, Milan Kundera, writes, "What terrifies us most about death is not the loss of the future, but the loss of the past. In fact, the act of forgetting is a form of death always present within life."

I suppose that's what is most disturbing to me about this - or any - extended period of rainy gloom.  My energy level is lower. My mind becomes what the Buddhists call "monkey mind" - wandering around thoughts and ideas, going where it will, unable to focus for too long on one thing (can you tell?).  And, forget about prayer and meditation. Not today. Not in anyway that is usually satisfying.

Worst yet, I forget. Names. The time of day. What I was going into the bedroom to get that was so all-fired important just a minute ago (Was it a minute ago? What time is it, anyway?).

It's a form of death, as Kundera says. "Une petite mort" - not to be confused with "La petite mort" which is a French euphemism for orgasm (Ah, the French!). It can also be used when some undesired thing has happened to a person and has affected them so much that "a part of them dies inside".

An extended period of rainy gloomy days can do that to a person. A part of you dies. Mostly, I think, parts of your brain.

When I was a child, my mother would send us out to play in the rain. We'd put on our galoshes and plastic rain coats and hats and carry an umbrella and jump puddles and stomp our feet in them, splashing ourselves and each other in the cold water.

We'd laugh and laugh at the ridiculousness of getting angry because someone splashed us and we got all wet because the rain was doing that, anyway.

There is a wonderful, magical quality about swimming in the ocean when it's raining. I've always experienced it as a particularly joyful thing - perhaps because it's so completely absurd. One frolics in the ocean on a beautiful sunny day - not when it's dark and rainy. It's a bit counter intuitive in our culture. One does not have fun in the rain.

There's something about the sound of laughter in the rain that is bold and outrageous. Courageous, even. Perhaps it is a small act of defying death. Laughing in its face. Unafraid of losing the past and unconcerned with the future. Not trying to control anything or anyone. Just being in the moment - living in the now - and taking the gift of the present for what it is - a gift.

Perhaps that's what Seurat was trying to communicate in the small dots with which he painted, instead of broad brush strokes. Perhaps his genius is the genius of life.

Life is not lived best in broad brush strokes, but rather, in the small, seemingly insignificant dots of the banality of life.   Even the small drops of rain lend themselves to the nourishment of the buds of tulips that are valiantly trying to open in the yard outside my door.

They will open, eventually. Perhaps on Saturday, when it is predicted that we'll get our first rays of sunshine and the temperatures are predicted to all the way up to the mid 60s. Or, Sunday, after a full day of sunshine and the return of some semblance of warmth.

The rain will have dissipated, but its legacy will be seen in the beauty of a flower that opens, its colors made more vibrant for having been watered and nourished by tiny dots of rain.

Perhaps I will take that long walk today.  I'll put on my rain boots - the green ones with the pink flamingos that always make me smile - and my raincoat and hat. I'll grab my umbrella - the big one I just bought with the EDS logo on it - and take that walk along Memorial Drive, down to the banks of the River Charles. Anyway.

Just me and Theo and whoever else is crazy enough to be out walking in this weather. 

And, I might just laugh.  Right out loud. For no particular reason. 

Except that the sound of laughter in the rain is as close as I can get to emulating Seurat's art.

Little dots of mirth to make the light seem a little brighter - and mortality a little further away - in the midst of the ordinary, banality of life.

Rivalry

I'm not a big sports fan, but there's something absolutely irresistible about a Boston Red Sox vs. New York Yankees game.

The passion on both sides of the field is palpable.

Last night, I watched the last two innings of the final game of a three-game sweep as Boston invaded the Bronx and won 7-5. I had been listening to it on the radio until someone on FaceBook told me that it was on ESPN.

I didn't even know I had ESPN.

Like I said, I'm not a big sports fan.

The rivalry between the two teams is often termed "the best rivalry in sports," resulting in games between the two teams often broadcast on national television, schedule permitting, and an increase in television ratings.

In most cases, whenever the two teams play a weekend series, the Saturday game is broadcast on Fox, while the Sunday game is broadcast on ESPN as part of Sunday Night Baseball. Reportedly, these games have had at least 50% higher ratings than all of the other games broadcast.

I'm not at all surprised.

I love my T-shirt that says, "I have two favorite teams: The Boston Red Sox and anyone who beats the Yankees."

I've seen T-shirt with the reverse message in the NY Metropolitan area.

I was stunned to see my former senior warden, a kind, genteel man of 75 and a conservative Republican donning a T-shirt on his FaceBook page that read, "Buck Foston."

I mean, this man's guiding question in life is, "Is it fair?". That hardly seemed a 'fair' statement to me. Apparently, 'all's fair in love and war' - and sports. Well, at least in the NY Metropolitan area.

After I recovered from this atypical - for him - display of un-classy behavior, my first thought was, "Huh! The Yankees must really be in bad shape."

Granted, this is pretty consistent with my experience of many Yankees fans. I once got on the train in Chatham to visit our daughter in NYC. I was in jeans and, since it was drizzly, wore my Red Sox baseball cap.

It was early-afternoon and the car was empty, except for one male passenger. I took a seat and, shortly after the conductor took my ticket, the man turned around and asked, "Are you from around here?"

"Yes," I said, a little startled, "Yes, I am."

"Well," he said, clearly agitated, "You should know better than to wear that cap."

"Oh," I giggled, a little more nervously than I wanted, "Oh, well, see, I'm FROM the Boston area."

"Yeah, well," said the man, the level of his agitation rising, "You're HERE now. Take it off."

He wasn't kidding.

"What?" I said, looking around for the conductor and trying to figure out how much time I had to the next stop when other passengers might arrive.

"You heard me," he said, angrily. "Take it off."

Instead, I gathered my stuff, got up from my seat and moved to the next car.

I could hear him yelling behind me, "Yeah, just like a Red Sox fan! The heat gets turned up and you turn tail and run."

I was standing at the door to the next car. "Actually," I turned to him and said, "It's just that we have more class than to pick a fight over a baseball cap."

I was actually relieved to see the conductor in the next car. He immediately got what was going on, shook his head sadly and said, "I'm a Philly's fan, myself."

I'm not sure of the source of all the heat.  Some say it dates back to May 7, 1903, when the game was marked by a fight when Boston pitcher George Winter was knocked down. Boston would eventually go on to win the pennant and the innagural 1903 World Series.

Others say that it happened when Babe Ruth - the legendary 'Bambino' - was sold by the Red Sox to the Yankees in 1919 so that the owner, ("The Evil") Harry Frazee, could finance the Broadway musical, "No, No Nanette."

My father, a diehard BoSox fan who was born in 1919, would never let any of the music from that show be played in our house. Turns out, the story was a myth. Actually, it was the play 'My Lady Friends' that had been financed by Frazee.

Even so, no one in my house was allowed to sing, "I want to be happy / But I won't be happy / Till I make you happy too."

After that sale, there was no joy in Mudville. 1918 would be the team's last championship for 86 years.

The "Curse of the Bambino" was finally reversed when The Red Sox won the World Series in 2004. Johnny Damon played for both the Red Sox and the Yankees. However, he is remembered by Red Sox fans for the home run that erased the Curse of the Bambino in the 2004 World Series.

My father hung a picture of Damon and Manny Ramirez - who had carried a sign in the Victory Parade that said, ""Jeter is playing golf today. This is better!" - right next to the ones of Jesus and JFK, Jr. that hung over our kitchen table.

Don't get me wrong. I think team rivalry is a good thing. Well, let me say that it's not necessarily a bad thing. It's part of the whole psychology of team sports that drives the whole sports industy.

Actually, rivalry is not unknown in seminaries, either. General Theological Seminary in NYC is often referred to as "The General" - meaning, that it has superior rank over all the other seminaries.

Others refer to it disparagingly as 'The Priest Factory' - for its pedagogical emphasis on liturgical perfection.

Virginia Theological School is often referred to by its graduates as "The Seminary" - a clear swipe at "The General" for the claim of excellence in theological education.

Other people take a swipe at the 'low church' tradition of VTS by referring to it as "That Seminary" - lamenting that "God may ring her hands over The Episcopal Church, but God doesn't even know about 'that seminary' in Virginia."

Nashotah House has often been referred to as "Natasha House" - where the liturgical training tends to be 'nose-bleed high' if not 'precious', the lace on the cottas (not surplices) are up to one's armpits, and the seminarians (for years,  Nashotah would not admit women as students) were wildly rumored - if not widely assumed - to be 'Closet Queens'.

The Episcopal Divinity School has long been known as "The Bleeding Hearts Club". That's okay. We were so busy learning how to work for gospel justice, we rarely paid attention.

Besides, we had to conserve our energy. It's hard when your heart is always bleeding.

And, pity the poor Episcopal seminarian who chose to attend Harvard or Yale or - gasp! - Union. Their reunions at General Convention tend to consist of four or five people, hanging around the bar.

Some of the more uncharitable among us have been heard to refer to them as "St. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band." Some giggle silently while others invite them as guests to our reunion banquets.

There is something about being part of the "home town team" - especially when they're winning - or even when someone from your home town 'done good'.

Boston is abuzz this morning with the fact that 'the boy from Bean Town' won the Survivor's program last night, even though many of us don't even watch the show. Apparently, he always wore his Boston Red Sox cap. That will be remembered long after he's spent his $1 Million winnings.

His name? Who knows? He was from Boston. What else do you need to know?

Rivalry is fine, I suppose, as long as it doesn't get nasty, and, in my experience, Yankees fans are among some of the nastiest. I don't get it, but then again, I'm not a big sports fan.

Oh, I'll cheer when the Bruins win, but I don't think I've watched a hockey game. Ever. Looks to me like a bunch of Yankees fans on ice with sticks. Nasty stuff, that. And, the Celtics of my youth could always get my heart racing, but I confess I rarely watch a game. I do cheer, however, when they win.

It's a tribal thing, I guess. Something in our collective DNA.

I'm just glad my boys in The Red Sox Nation are doing so well this year.  The trick now is for them to avoid the scourge of complacency.  That's been their undoing many a time. We've still got a long way to go before the World Series.

Which is part of why I cheer them. I want them to know that even someone like me - who could never be described as much of a sports fan - is rooting for them.

Rain or shine, good times or bad, win or lose, I'll be there for them.

It's not so much about rivalry as it is loyalty.

And, faith. And, hope.

The Boston Red Sox have taught me more about faith and hope than anything I ever learned in the Baltimore Catechism or, in fact, many of us learned in seminary.

Faith and hope can't be taught. They arise from a life of experience.

I'm thinking this year just may well be our year.  It's been seven years. We're due for a Big Win. Besides, seven years has a nice biblical ring to it, don't you think?

If not, well, that's okay. It's only a game, after all. Loyalty runs deep in Boston. And well, frankly, most of us have lives outside of Fenway Park. And, friends in the NY Metropolitan Area.

"Wait 'till next year" is the antiphon of Red Sox Nation Psalm of Lament.

You can't get more faithful or hopeful - or loyal - than that.

Please God, just let it be THIS year. Amen.

The Gate

Of the Seven Metaphors of Jesus in John's Gospel, I think I like "the gate" least ( John 10:1-10). It's the gospel for this morning, the fourth Sunday in Eastertide.

I'm fine with the others - well, "the Way, the Truth and the Life" always presents a problem of exclusion for me, but I understand the situation John was in at the time.

The 'People of the Way' were taking off on their own, beginning the 'Jesus Movement' that would later become 'the church'. He was trying to get as many people 'on The Way' - the Right Way - as he could.

Actually, I'm not so fine with the whole 'Shepherd/Sheep' thing either. That's mostly because while I'm fine with Jesus as Shepherd, I'm not so comfortable being a sheep. 

Maybe it's my classism. I am an Anglican, after all. It's our 'original sin'.

I get Jesus as Bread of Life (John 6:47-51), and the Light of the World (John 8:12).

The Gate (John 10:9) and the Good Shepherd (John 10:11-12) - not so much.

Jesus as 'the Resurrection and the Life' (John 10:11-12) is wonderful. "The Way, the Truth and the Life" (John 14:5-7), well, not so much, but the image of "The True Vine" (John 15:1,4) has provided me and countless others with a measure of comfort during times of separation and loneliness or grief and bereavement.

I suspect John may have been throwing out a bunch of metaphors, hoping one of the seven might stick with someone of the flock.

'The Gate' sort of leaves me cold, you know?  I really have a hard time imagining Jesus not letting anyone in through The Gate.  Not if, as he says, they confess and truly repent.

Indeed, I think the church - The Body of Christ - functions more as 'The Gate' than does Jesus.  And, I think that makes Jesus stand at the gate and weep.  I mean, it just doesn't go with some of the other things Jesus reportedly said.

Like, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28). Not some. All.

That's not to say that gates aren't necessary in this life - on this side of Paradise. They are.

One of my early teachers in Pastoral Care once used the image of a gate as something I would need, as a Pastor, in order to set good, healthy relational boundaries.

"Think of the pastoral relationship as an open field," he said. "Sometimes, it's really important to allow yourself or your flock to wander freely, to find their own nourishment. Your role is to keep watch, making sure no harm comes into the field. Because, if there's no gate, harm can come in and out as freely as they can."

"It's also important," he reminded me, "to remind yourself that you can't do it all. You have to set boundaries around the areas you know that your skills and talents can best serve."

Seemed like wise counsel to me.

He continued, "Other times, it's really important to put up a wall. A firm wall. Stone or brick. Sometimes, you need very firm, very clear boundaries between you and some of your flock, lest they begin to eat your grass and drink your water, leaving you with absolutely no nourishment, depleting your ability to tend to the others."

"A wall," he said, "can also serve to protect the flock when there's a sense of danger - whether real or perceived."

"The best pastoral relationship," he said, "is one where I imagine a large, open field with a picket fence around it. It defines the area clearly, and yet, it gives a sense of openness. The important thing is to have a gate on that fence. With a latch. The latch should face you, so you have some sense of control over who comes in and who goes out and how many come to you at a time."

Those who are familiar with Ed Friedman's Family System's concept of the 'self differentiated self' will recognize it as a visual model of that idea.

I like that metaphor very much. It has, in fact, been the model I use for pastoral relationships in community. It allows the pastoral leader to have some sense of control over the defined area of ministry and how many of the flock come in at a time for specific tending or specialized care.

Not that I've always done it well, mind you. Nevertheless, it stands as the model that has been very helpful to me over the years.

I suspect John was more describing himself and, perhaps, the pastoral relationship Jesus had with his 'flock', than portraying an image of The Realm of God.

At least, that's how I've come to understand this gospel.

I'll be heading off to church in a few minutes, followed by a presentation at the Vestry Meeting concerning their ongoing development as leaders.

I'm looking forward to my rector's sermon to see how it is that she reads this passage from John and to feed on the Word she breaks open for us before I am nourished by the Sacrament.

So, "G'wan, as my friend Margaret says, "go to church".

Jesus is waiting for you.

That's Him, right there.

The little guy. The sort of scruffy one in the sandals and the long hair. Standing by the gate.

The latch is on His side, but He'll let you in.

No promises about the shepherds He's left to tend the flock, though.

Some of them are right onery.

Not to worry. There are lots of other fields and lots of other shepherds.

Just get yourself up out of bed or off that couch, finish that last mouthful of coffee, and get yourself to church.

There are six other metaphors you can feast on while you're waiting at the gate.

bin Laden's Porn

Sometime late yesterday afternoon I heard the news report that, among the veritable treasure trove of information seized during the raid of Osama bin Laden's home in Pakistan was a "considerable quantity" of pornographic videos in a collection of five computers, 10 hard drives and dozens of thumb drives and CDs "whose age and past ownership is not known".

I was with a friend who seemed genuinely perplexed and confused by the report of the leader whose reign of terror was based, he said, on the foundational principles of his religious beliefs.

I wasn't. Surprised. At all.

Yes, of course, we've all heard that part of the reason for Mr. bin Laden's mastermind of the al-Qaeda attack on 9/11 attack was due to Western decadence in general and America's cultural exploitation of women's bodies in dress, advertising and popular culture.

In 2006, bin Laden wrote an open letter to America, stating:

“Your nation exploits women like consumer products or advertising tools, calling upon customers to purchase them,” he wrote. “You plaster your naked daughters across billboards in order to sell a product without any shame. You have brainwashed your daughters into believing they are liberated by wearing revealing clothes, yet in reality all they have liberated is your sexual desire.”

I wasn't convinced that bin-Laden or any of his al-Qaeda operatives were standing on high moral ground, much less harbored in their heart of hearts any basic-level respect for women.

While I think women and men should be allowed to dress in the style and fashion of their choice and preference, I must say that I'm no fan of the message Madison Avenue sends out to young girls and women about their bodies. Some of it seems exploitative and vulgar, not at all liberating and edifying.

However, insisting that women cover up from head to toe, including their face (and, in some instances, even their eyes) while in public is another cultural form of violence and oppression.

In some ways, we're just different sides of the same misogynist coin.

This week, Congress invited women who had been involved in The Peace Corp to testify not only to their experiences of sexual assault and rape while working for The Peace Corp, but how that organization played down or ignored them - and, in some cases, blamed them.

Fom 2000 to 2009, on average, 22 Peace Corps women each year reported being the victims of rape or attempted rape, the agency says. During that time, more than 1,000 Peace Corps volunteers reported sexual assaults, including 221 rapes or attempted rapes. Because sexual crimes often go unreported, experts say the incidence is likely to be higher, though they and the Peace Corps add that it is difficult to assess whether the volunteers face any greater risk overseas than women in the United States do......

........Karestan Koenen, who was raped in 1991 in Niger, said, “My own experience was that the treatment by the Peace Corps was worse than the rape.”

Women all over the world are still treated as commodities - or vehicles of commodities - including the United States of America.

The organization HumanTrafficking.Org reported in 2007 that:

The United States of America is principally a transit and destination country for trafficking in persons. It is estimated that 14,500 to 17,500 people, primarily women and children, are trafficked to the U.S. annually.

14,500 to 17,500. People. Women and children. Trafficked annually. To the United States.

Want to stop human trafficking?  Here's a thought: How about we start by eliminating the consumer base? Then, we can begin to work on the poverty that propels some of these women - or the parents of these young girls - into the desperate, dangerous business of human trafficking in the first place.

Let's start with our own country. You know, "the land of the free and the home of the brave," where everyone is promised, "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

Clearly, the Pentagon released the information about bin Laden's porn collection hoping that it "could fuel accusations of hypocrisy against the founder of Al Qaeda, who was 54 and lived with three wives at the time of his death, and will be welcomed by counterterrorism officials because it could tarnish his legacy and erode the appeal of his brand of religious extremism".

The NY Times article was careful to say that government officials "would not say whether there was evidence that Bin Laden or the other men living in the house had acquired or viewed the material".

They also failed to disclose the source of the porn, or whether America's "Queen of Porn," Jenna Jameson was featured in any one of them.

I don't know about you, but I'm betting that bin Laden's porn was "our" porn.

The sexual assault and rape of Karestan Koenen and other young Peace Corp women was compounded by the silence and injustice perpetrated by American government officials.

The young women who told their 'inconvenient truths' might jeopardize the relations we had with the countries we were trying to help. Indeed, it could be the downfall of an organization that was trying to promote world peace.

We wouldn't want to do that, now, would we?

These young women of the Peace Corps were simply higher-level commodities of the United States government, their experiences of rape silenced and untreated and their perpetrators unpunished in the name of 'world peace'.

I'm not buying it. Neither did the women of the Peace Corp. Neither, thankfully, did some of the members of Congress who are now pushing for the Peace Corp to modernize its procedures to make sure that we provide compassionate care to - and justice for - its crime victims.

The director of the Peace Corps, Aaron S. Williams, said in an interview on Monday that he was committed to revamping the agency’s practices to create a more “victim-centered approach.”

Already, Mr. Williams has made some changes, including hiring a “victim’s advocate” who began work on Monday and signing an agreement with a nationally known rape crisis group to re-examine his organization’s training and policies.

So, while the late night talk show hosts titter and tut and make lewd jokes about bin Laden's porn, let us not be so quick to giggle, shall we?

Instead, let's explore the connections between pornography and violence to women, as well as the connections between the obscenity of poverty and the immorality of war.

We may yet learn a few inconvenient truths and unintended lessons about our own indecency from the discovery of bin Laden's porn.

Blogger Down

Well, hasn't this been special?

Since about 1 PM on Wednesday, Blogger has been down. At around 7 PM Thursday, Blogger removed all posts on 5/11 and went into "read only" mode.

I just came home from a lovely afternoon with an old friend to find that Blogger is back online.

Well, the last message is this: "We're still working on restoring some of the data."

Whatever.

No explanation about why we were without service, just that we seem to be back up and running while the good folks at blogger continue to restore some of the data.

All I can say is that it must have been a Very Serious Glitch.

Several folks have suggested rather strongly that I switch to Wordpress. I don't know. I tend to be an intensely loyal person. Hey, I'm a Red Sox fan, right?

You don't turn tail and run just because of one disappointment.

Or five. Or ten.

Years.

But, that's another post for another time.

In terms of switching from Blogger to Wordpress, well, this is the first major glitch I've encountered and I've been on Blogger since June of 2006. I figure, the devil I know is better than the devil I don't know.

Actually, I started on Blogger at the suggestion of my Parish Administrator who actually set it up for me.

I had been to General Convention 2003 and, at that time, had sent a daily email to my Wardens and Vestry, so that they would have a better understanding of the way the Church does its business, once every three years.

I later discovered that they had been forwarding and/or printing out my emails so that the whole parish could read them.

"Why don't you set up a blog, this time?" asked my Parish Administrator.

"Sure," I said, "What's a blog?"

He sighed deeply and 'splained it to me. I really thought that the only people reading it would be the members of my congregation.

Hand to Jesus! That's really what I thought.

Imagine my surprise when I started getting comments not only from around The Episcopal Church, but the Anglican Communion.

I was stunned.

Oh, I've made some mistakes over the years. Printing things and making comments that did not exactly reveal my best side. I've learned some things, over the last five years.

One of them is 'restraint'. Another is 'patience'. Yet another: 'graciousness'.

Except, of course, when the situation can only be responded to with a good, old fashioned, unrestrained rant.

Call me a graduate of the School of Hard Knocks with a degree from Cyberspace University - Blogger School of Communication.

Oh, I've still been writing. It's part of my spiritual discipline. Believe it or not, I just don't always publish what I've been writing in my journal.

Expect something tomorrow. Promise.

Right now, I've got to catch up on reading some of my favorite blogs.

Thank you, all the folks at Blogger, who worked so hard to put us back online.

I don't know what the problem was, and I'm sure I wouldn't understand it completely, even if you told me, but I'm grateful someone knows what they're doing in Cyberspace.

Well, mostly.

Just don't play games with my loyalty, okay?

Only the Boston Red Sox are allowed to do that.

Running Around in Circles

For the past three years, The Episcopal Women's Caucus has embraced a new way of leadership. We call it "Circle Leadership".

It's a new way of imagining religious organizations, but it's hardly a new idea. Some religious orders of women in The Episcopal Church, like the Community of the Holy Spirit and the Order of St. Helena have been modeling themselves like this for over a decade.

Ann Smith

Perhaps the one doing the most work in this revolutionary way of thinking about leadership is Ann Smith and Circle Connections, the organization she helped to found.

Ann is a feisty activist, visionary and spiritual teacher who, for years, lead the "Women's Desk" (Women in Mission and Ministry) at "815" - that would be 815 Second Ave. in NYC, the home of the Episcopal Church Center.

So, what is, Circle Leadership, exactly?

When Bonnie Anderson, President of the House of Deputies spoke about circular models of leadership at the recent Kellogg Lectures at The Episcopal Divinity School last week, she mentioned this concept as part of what the church must embrace if we are to bring about the 'courageous change' that the institutional church so desperately needs.

Bonnie Anderson

In her series, titled "Courageous Change: What it takes, and how it happens," she said "The church needs to be a movement. Right now we are an organization. We have a critical mass of 2 million ministers."

You can download her exciting, provocative, challenging lectures at her website here. (Bonnie has agreed to be our key note speaker at the Triennial EWC Breakfast at General Convention. Stay tuned!)

There are not many books or resources describing how this concept works out, practically and pragmatically. The closest one comes to this is to look at the work of "Circle Connections".

I'll get back to this incredible organization in just a bit. First, a word about "Circle Leadership" vs. "Leadership Circle" - an important distinction to make

When you google "Circle Leadership", what invariably comes up is "Leadership Circle" - two very different things, in my mind.

The easiest way for me to explain that is visually.

A 'Leadership Circle' looks more like the image to your left. Individual leaders stand together in something that sort of looks something like a circle.

Each person is still in his or her individual circle of authority and power which they may leave to engage with other leaders who are connected with them in some way. Some of the connections are formal, others are more informal.

In my mind, some businesses operate on this model. It's also a way to conceptualize 'social networking' which has been made more available through the technology of the Internet. 

Another way to conceptualize a "Leadership Circle" is to imagine a sort of "Knights of the Round Table," with King Arthur firmly ensconced in his throne at the head of the table, but everyone else having an equal place of honor.

The authority is still centralized, but there is greater sharing. Sort of like the Presiding Bishop in the House of Bishops. Or, the Archbishop of Canterbury as the 'primus inter pares' - the first among equal at the meeting of the Primates in the Anglican Communion.

Mind you, I'm not saying that these are "bad" models of leadership. I'm saying that they are traditional, albeit, male models of leadership.

I'm saying that these are, for me, anyway, models of "Leadership Circles".

I'm saying that's the way many churches and church organizations function. My experience is that they do not facilitate true Christian community - the community of 'the beloved' of which Jesus speaks. 

At their worst, this leadership style creates isolated silos, where everyone stores up their own treasures and only ventures out in order to bargain or negotiate or barter for goods or service.

Many churches are places where their members love to say that "everybody is welcome" - but then they don't know what to do after they say 'Hello' - albeit warmly - except to give them a pledge card and ask them to serve in some capacity that only benefits the institutional church.

They can be places were people love to say "we take care of each other" - but not the way Jesus said to love one another as He loved us, much less to treat our 'neighbor as ourselves'.

Women lead differently.  Well, if given half the chance and their 'drothers'.

Circle Leadership, at least as I understand it, looks more like the image at the top of this post. People are holding hands, circled 'round the globe.

They are connected, each to the other, in mutual concern for "Mother Earth" and her children and creatures and creation. They share a common vision and a common goal, but each works it out in her own location, coming together in smaller circle as often as possible for mutual support, encouragement, inspiration, participation and assistance.

Circle Leadership is more organic to women. We have always come together in a circle of some sort - around the fire, gathering at the village well, in corn and wheat and cotton fields and rice paddies, in our homes around the kitchen table and with our families.

We have been pressured to function in our circles under the assumption of a predominantly hierarchical model of structures and leadership. It is a ‘top-down’ model that is still the structure found in most schools, churches, organizations, corporations, businesses and in traditional families.

In the hierarchical model there is a top, a middle and bottom. The top is the CEO (bishop), president, principle, director and in traditional families father. The top knows best and tells others what to do.

There is a middle. This is the manager (priest), supervisor, teacher chairperson and in traditional families mother. The middle conveys the decisions and messages from the top to the bottom. They make sure those on the bottom do what they are told.

And, there is a bottom. They are the workers (deacon), members (laity), students (seminarians), and in traditional families children.

According to Circle Connections, The Circle Model . . .

. . . is a more collaborative model that has room for an emergent design. It is an egalitarian way of being with one another where everyone works together and is honored for their gifts. The power, the resources, the decision-making, and the work all are shared. This ensures full participation, personal growth and unlimited creativity.

In Circle:

+ There is no top and no bottom, just one fluid dynamic system
+ The network is formed around a common passion
Leaders emerge naturally and only inspire to direct and make the group cohesive. They act as a guiding part of a greater whole, not as a director over.
+ Groups are more fluid and act from a common commitment to.....

Circle Principles

+ Self-sustaining
+ Reorganizations happen organically all the time and are easy.
+ Conflict resolution and Win/Win Communication is innate in the structure

Allow me, if I may, to give you a few recent examples from our last few Caucus Board meetings.

We had decided that tasks such as facilitating the meeting, setting the agenda and keeping the minutes for the meeting would be done by different people on a rotating basis. This seemed to us, at least at the time, to be a good way to begin to share responsibilities and get the circle rolling, as it were.

A few board meetings ago, someone suggested that it might be time to rotate responsibilities. After a bit of discussion, we discovered that the women who had been taking minutes and setting the agenda not only did it well, they actually liked what they were doing.

Someone asked each of them, "Would you like to continue?" And, the answer from both women was "Yes." We agreed to check in with them in a few months to make sure they didn't need a break or a change.

Now, that may seem like such a small thing as to be inconsequential. I would argue, however, that it is part of the dynamic fluidity of Circle Leadership.

Another small example: The annual membership and fundraising letters have, traditionally, been written by the President (now Convener). Last year, we decided to ask one of the members of the Board to write the membership letter. That worked so well we are repeating the pattern this year. Another member of the Board will write the membership letter. We are working on a similar pattern for the fundraising letter.

Each person on the board, as she feels called, is stepping up to claim her own voice and call others to support the work of The Caucus by joining us in membership and financial contribution and projects.

We hope to be able to call people to daily prayer while at General Convention, using services written and led by our members which include expansive images and languages about God and God's people.

We are working on ways to create smaller circles of participation and leadership. We have an editorial advisory board and are working to implement a "Next Generation" board of younger women, to teach them about Circle Leadership and empower them to continue the work of The Caucus.

Finally, in our last board meeting, we talked about General Convention and whether or not we were going to have a booth there. We discussed our assumptions about pros and cons, finally deciding to have a booth but the focus of our work there became much more clear in our conversation.

Through that clarity, one member of the Board said that she would like to coordinate our presence at the General Convention booth. She has found a way to use her skills and talents in a way that will help us all and The Caucus.

With her decision, the energy that was released on the board for other board members was both remarkable and palpable. There are now more people on the board who are stepping forward to do other things in accordance with their own gifts and talents.

And, I think we're better able to let go of the things we feel we "ought/should" be doing because it was a measure of organizational success/productivity in the past.

Oh, it's not perfect, by any means. We have neither found "Nirvana" nor "Utopia". We are still struggling with our own internalized assumptions about structures of organization, built over a life time of experience as well as our own present day interfacing with hierarchical organizational models.

I think, however, after three years, this idea is finally taken root and is beginning to grow, showing forth its first, small blossoms which, we trust, will begin to bear much fruit.

Sometimes, it feels a bit like traveling between two foreign lands, complete with different language and currency. I suppose that's because that's precisely what we are doing.

We have become 'resident aliens' of sorts - living in a hierarchical world and church but attempting to find our way into a more circular, shared reality.

It can be a bit disconcerting at times. It can feel as if our value as an organization is 'less than' because it is not 'traditional'. We don't 'fit in' easily. As a matter of fact, it's even hard to describe what this Circle Leadership model is and how it works without providing some images of what that looks like.

The Circle Connection site maintains that

"Circles provide the common ground for all to be truly heard and offers a respectful way of coming together to find new solutions to problems, co-create new resources, events and programs, and close the gap between opposing sides. The Circle Process shifts the focus from ‘forcing’ and ‘power-over’ to ‘allowing’ and ‘power-with’.

Through Circle:

+ We become better communicators
+ Build healthier relationships, deepen trust, and appreciate differences
+ Become more compassionate decision makers and problem solvers
+ Develop more balanced, meaningful, and passionate lives
+ Contribute to our communities
+ Expand our authenticity, build confidence and a empower healthy self esteem

It seems that the challenges we face today are calling for a shift to a more gentle and conscious way of being with one another if we are to connect and create a new earth."

It seems to me that Jesus practiced Circle Leadership. Here's but one example:

When there was a gathering of thousands (four? five?) of people who had come to hear Jesus, his disciples wanted to send them away. "We don't have enough to feed everyone," they lamented. (Matthew 14:13-21) Jesus said, "What do you have? Go and see?" (Mark 6:32-44)

Educator, author and Quaker, Parker Palmer, maintains that this was the first recorded community organizing event in history. It's not that there wasn't enough food for everyone to eat. It's that, once Jesus got everyone seated in small circles (Luke 9:10-17), they began to see what they might have to share with each other.

This is the only miracle story reported in all four gospels (see also John 6:5-6:15), and all four evangelists tell us that, not only did everyone eat, but that there were baskets of bread and fish left over. That's what Circle Leadership can do.

It has been said that every revolution begins in a circle of people conspiring - con/spiring = breathing together.

I'm hoping that this little essay will begin to start a wider conversation in small, revolutionary groups, about the way women lead and the gift and challenges this new style brings to our church.

I'm hoping that we can re-imagine a church where the leadership is more circular in shape and form and practice. 

Imagine a church where all people - women and girls, men and boys of every race, ethnicity class and physical ability - can come forward to make a positive change in the world - in their families, neighborhoods, communities, churches, temples, mosques, organizations and, yes, even governments.

Imagine a church where all God's people can dream dreams and take the risk of exchanging their diverse perspectives and wisdom to bring new systemic solutions to old intractable problems.

Imagine a church where people initiate community projects, grow partnerships, and catalyze collaboration.

Imagine a church where, while we're waiting for The Parousia ("Christ will come again"), we discover that we are the one Jesus has been waiting for.

Imagine a church that stops running around in circles and initiates or joins one.

Just imagine what that might be like!

I'm thinking it may look more and more like the Realm of God, complete with angels and archangels, cherubim and seraphim, and all the company of heaven running around in circles above us and beside us singing, "Make way! Make way for the image of God!"

Cursive Writing

Does that picture above look familiar?

Look at it again. Apparently, according to this article in the NY Times, it may be one of the last times you'll see it.

Until recently, one could walk into any elementary classroom just about anywhere and see cursive lettering posted somewhere in the room. Apparently, that is less and less the case.

Students nationwide are still taught cursive, but many school districts are spending far less time teaching it and handwriting in general than they were years ago, said Steve Graham, a professor of education at Vanderbilt University. Most schools start teaching cursive in third grade, Professor Graham said. In the past, most would continue the study until the fifth or sixth grades — and some to the eighth grade — but many districts now teach cursive only in third grade, with fewer lessons.

“Schools today, we say we’re preparing our kids for the 21st century,” said Jacqueline DeChiaro, the principal of Van Schaick Elementary School in Cohoes, N.Y., who is debating whether to cut cursive. “Is cursive really a 21st-century skill?”

Well, is poetry a 21st-century skill? Or, writing romantic love letters?

Come to think of it, does anyone still write romantic love letters, or is everything communicated in text messages and emails?

In 'text', 143 = I love you. One number for each of the letters in each of the words.

It's clever, but you know, that just doesn't do it for me.

I love getting or giving little handwritten notes that say "I Love You" at the end. In cursive writing, of course.

In the classrooms of my elementary school - starting around the third grade and continuing until about the sixth grade - we practiced cursive writing. We had penmanship classes, and penmanship contests the way we also had math and spelling and reading contests.

Baby Jesus feeding the Pagan Babies

I went to Roman Catholic School, so we also had Pagan Baby Contests.

It went like this: You had to bring in a dime every week (some of the nuns allowed you to bring in pennies or nickels which you could save up and exchange for a dime) which would then fit into a slot on a poster which had your name on it. When you got to $1, you were allowed to 'name' your Pagan Baby and the money would be sent "to the missions" so "Father" could baptize one of the little Pagan Babies with your name.

Sister told us that we were saving the "little savages" Africa or Laos or Cambodia or Viet Nam, baptizing them in the name of Jesus. I know. Hard to believe that we once talked that way - and, meant it.

There were 30-40 kids in my class. We had Pagan Baby Contests every 10 weeks. Not a bad fundraising scheme, eh? I used to imagine that there was a village in Viet Nam or Africa somewhere with lots of girls named "Elizabeth".

Anyway, even the Pagan Baby Chart and the Pagan Baby Certificate you got were all written in Cursive.

We would practice and practice and practice our cursive writing, following the broken lines that formed each upper or lower case letter and number,  until it was letter-perfect.  Then, we were allowed to go on our own.

Sister would sit at her desk and call out a letter: "Upper Case 'G"'.  She'd repeat it three times slowly enough for us to scan the banners around the room or the poster near her desk which displayed the alphabet in cursive writing.

"Lower case 'd'".  "Lower case 'd'". "Lower. Case. 'd'".

Toward the end of the year, Sister would get out her egg-timer. We'd go through a similar exercise, but the one who finished first would get a special prize.

Usually, it was another Pagan Baby, but this time, you knew enough to choose Sister's name. Or, Father's name. It was just good Roman Catholic piety not bring too much attention to yourself and share your good fortune with others.

Sally Bennett, an 18-year-old freshman at Central Arkansas, signs her name in all capital letters and never gave any thought to it until she took the ACT college entrance exam. Students must copy a prompt, with explicit instructions that they do not print. So the classroom of test-takers tried cursive, Ms. Bennett said.

“Some people in there couldn’t remember,” she said. “I had to think about it for a minute. It was kind of hard for me to remember.”

I know. I know. Some of you are giggling and making snide remarks about Arkansas. Stop that. There are other, critically important things to consider.

People are unemployed. People do not have access to adequate health care. People all over the world are starving. Not to mention the fact that our educational system, itself, is in a shambles.

So, why am I distressed about the apparent demise of cursive writing?

It's not the pragmatics of the discipline, although, apparently some pediatricians say that that learning cursive helped students hone their fine motor skills. It’s the dexterity, the fluidity, the right amount of pressure to put with pen and pencil on paper.

No, I'm mourning the loss of the artistry of cursive writing. The beauty of it, when done well. The personalization of a handwritten note. The romance of its lovely swirls and curves.

So enamoured am I with cursive writing that whenever I see a little stationary store in town, I always stop in and buy a little something, just to do my part to keep the tradition alive.

I always try to write out personal notes of thanks after dinner with friends, but I have succombed, of late, to sending out Jacqueline Lawson email cards for birthdays and anniversaries or special holidays.

I draw the line at sending out email condolences for deaths. I'm sorry. I think it's just tacky.

I should be glad, I suppose, for progress. At least now we're allowing left handed-kids to write with their left hand. If I heard it once, I heard Sister remind us three times a day that the Latin word for 'left' is 'sinistra', from which the word 'sinister' is derived, and no one wants to be called 'sinister'.

It was cold comfort as I watched some of my classmates with their left hand tied (!!) to the chair of their desk so they wouldn't be 'tempted by Satan' to use it.

While I'm glad we have a better understanding of brain function, when it comes to the demise of cursive writing, I fear we're throwing out the baby with the bath water, as it were.

Just the other day, a story hit the media about historians finding a stack of index cards in the Ronald Reagan Library.

In his own hand - in "impeccable writing" - were quotes Reagan would use in his speeches. Another stack of index cards contained one-liners and jokes. It has all been collected and will appear in a new book called, simply, The Notes.

Biographer Douglas Brinkley, who edited The Notes, writes

All of the notes were handwritten. When Reagan was recopying various quotations, he was especially neat. His scrawl is impeccable—seldom does he employ a cross-out or correct a mis-start. Clearly, legibility was a high priority to him. Sometimes he uses an asterisk or makes a hearty underline for emphasis. Shorthand is often the order of the day.

I could never be described as a fan of "Uncle Ronny" - I still remember government cheese, number 16 cans of peanut butter, ketchup as a vegetable in school lunches, and, of course, AIDS - but I just might pick up that book about him the next time I'm in a bookstore.

Yes, I still go to bookstores, even though I love my Kindle.

I think one page of cursive writing can tell you more about a person than an entire megabyte of emails.

If there were a font on 'blogspot' in cursive, I would use it all the time, risking as I would, a certain percentage of younger readers. 

"Is cursive writing really a 21st-century skill?"

Is art a 21st century skill?  Do beauty and romance have no place in our future?

Beauty and romance and art may not define progress, but they define the humanity of our civilization.

If you look closely, in between the dips and curves and flowing lines of prose or poetry or notes, you'll find the face of an individual human being - someone who had passion and emotion and humor behind their thoughts and opinions.

You simply can't convey all that in an emoticon.

And, without a vehicle to express individual passion and emotion and humor, I fear whatever progress we make will not much advance civilization.

Gandhi was once asked what he thought about Western Civilization. He said, "I think it's a good idea."

I do, too. But I don't think we're going to build it on block lettering.

I can hear some of you wail, "Oh, but my handwriting is so bad!" Well, I think the nuns of my youth would be horrified to see my handwriting today.

Don't like your handwriting? Well, work on it. Practice until it gets better. I'm planning to do that, starting today.

Think of it this way: you'll be making your own artistic contribution to the advancement of civilization - one lovely cursive letter at a time.

'143' is okay. It's alright, as far as it goes.

"I love you," written by hand, in cursive style, just might communicate a beauty that could launch a thousand ships.