Geography and Identity

One of these days, I'm going to remember to make time, in my travels as a Hospice Chaplain around the western part of Sussex County, DE, to stop, get out of the car, and take some pictures.

Let the reader understand: Sussex County (AKA "Lower, Slower Delaware" or "LSD") is the southernmost, largest and oldest geographical county of the three counties in the "first state" of Delaware. The first European settlement in the state of Delaware was founded in 1631 near the present-day town of Lewes - in the eastern part of the county.

The three counties in Delaware are Sussex, Kent and New Castle. The three major cities in each of those counties are Georgetown, Dover and Wilmington.

The eastern portion of the county is home to most of Delaware's beaches and many seaside resorts.  Almost 23% of the entire county is made up of water. The western side of the county is the center of Delaware's agriculture industry with more acres of arable land under cultivation than anywhere else in the state.

I believe someone once told me that Sussex County, DE is the largest geographical county east of the Mississippi. I believe it.

I once had a patient in Gumboro - in the west - and had to "rush" to a patient in Bethany Beach who was actively dying and whose family was calling for the chaplain. It took me over an hour and a half - almost two hours - to get there.  Yes, I was doing the speed limit (25 mph in some places, but mostly 50 mph). No, I didn't get lost - although my GPS system doesn't always discriminate between "streets," "lanes," "roads," and "avenues".  Sometimes, the directions on the patient's chart say, "turn into the driveway next to the rusted, bent, unmarked mailbox".

You can get there from here. It just takes some time, is all.

It's also the most conservative part of the state. Here's a clue: Sussex County was the only county of three to vote for Christine "I'm not a witch" O'Donnell.

Can you say, "Tea Party"?

You can still spot people proudly sporting their "Christine O'Donnell for US Senate 2010" T-shirts at the market or gas station.

These folks are nothing if not loyal.

One patient explained it to me this way: "People who live off the land live close to nature. We know how nature is supposed to work. We understand the natural order of things. Killing your own baby 'fore its born ain't natural. Neither is homosexuality. And, every man's got a right to a gun."

I just smile and nod my head and say, "Ah." Just, "Ah." And then I say, "Is that your wedding picture there on the wall? You look so happy. Tell me about that day......"

Driving around the eastern and western portions of Sussex County sometimes feels like you have fallen off the map and are in a different reality altogether.  The east couldn't be more different from the west. While the east has its share of farms, it is mostly oriented to the resort areas. The west includes miles and miles and miles of farms - chicken, mostly, but dairy, horse, goat and even one fairly large bison farm. There are also acres and acres of corn and cash crop. 

Much of it looks fairly idyllic, but some of it just screams of poverty. Trailer homes with rusted downspouts and fallen down porches and patched up roofs with untold numbers of "dead vehicles" and rusted automotive parts and chickens and cats in the front yard. I feel sad just looking at it.

Sometimes, I have patients in those homes. Some are amazingly clean and homey - lots of pictures of family everywhere - with wonderful, strong, loving families who live there.

Others are beyond filthy - stacks of old newspapers everywhere, cluttered with plastic laundry bags filled with "stuff", reeking to high heaven of stale cigarette smoke, grease, body odor and cat excrement - where people with limited education (6-10th grade), basic skills (car mechanics and woodworking and canvass repair and alterations and truck drivers), with less than basic coping mechanisms to deal with illness and the grinding poverty they've known for generations and will most likely never escape.  And lots and lots of all the attendant drama.

So now you know where I spend most of my days.

I'm especially intrigued by the signs that are in front of some of these homes and the untold stories waiting to be told behind their messages.

There's this one sign outside a home. Wooden. Hand painted. On the left is the message: "Antique and vintage guns. Ammunition. Fireworks." On the right is the message: "Pretty Curls Hair Salon." Across the bottom is the message: John 3:16.

Besides the picture it paints of the family in that house, that sign brings a whole new definition to "Mom and Pop store," right?

There is no paucity of small, community, non-denominational churches that seem to pop up out of nowhere. Ex nihilo.  In the western part of the county, nearer the Maryland border, there seems to be a plethora of Mennonite Churches. And, near them, hardware stores and automotive repair shops, gas stations and woodworking shops and stores that sell handmade furniture.

When I'm out in the western part of the county, I frequently pass by this one Mennonite Church with a very intriguing sign which I've grown to love. Indeed, I look for it when I'm in that particular neck of the woods. It says.

Church is an identity, not an activity.

I keep meaning to take a picture of it and send it around to a few churches and dioceses, but I fear I'll just be wasting my time.

"Church is an identity, not an activity." What if we all began to understand that? And, live it out?

The earliest Creedal statement was very simple but highly radical and particularly dangerous to the People of the Way: "Jesus is Lord. We are the Body of Christ." (1 Corinthians 12 - especially vs. 27).

That profession of faith proclaims that no earthly leader has more power or authority than Jesus. And, because of the gift of the Holy Spirit given to us at the Resurrection, Jesus lives in us.

As I said, at the time, that was a very dangerous statement of faith.

Christians who embrace the catholicity of the church understand that our identity flows from the Nicene Creed's statement of the identity of the church as being "one, holy, catholic and apostolic."

From this foundational identity flows three characteristics - or, what Pope Benedict called "the church's deepest identity" - Proclamation (of the word). Celebration (of the sacraments). Charity (caring for the poor, the hungry, those in prison, and those in any need AKA Mission and Ministry). 

Benedict says that these three elements of the "deepest identity" of the church “presuppose each other and are inseparable.”

In other words, if the Church’s charitable works are disconnected from the others - proclaiming God’s word and the sacraments - it becomes disconnected from the whole and takes on another identity.

It remains a "good work," to be sure, one which can be - and, indeed, is often - done by those in the secular arena - but it is not part of the "deepest identity" of the church.

And, and, ..... AND.... if the sacraments are not accompanied by carrying out the mission of the church, it, too, is disconnected. So, too, with the Proclamation of the Word.

Now, I'm not a big fan of "Papa Bennie," and this might not happen again in my lifetime, but I find myself in strong agreement with him on this one.

I'm also in strong agreement with the Mennonites: "Church is an identity, not an activity."

What great company, right? Smack dab between the Mennonites and the Pope.

These two visions of the church are signs and symbols of life and vitality and faith.  Our charitable activity (mission and ministry) flows from who we know ourselves to be ("Jesus is Lord. We are the Body of Christ"), which is shaped by how we pray (celebration of the sacraments).

Proclamation. Celebration. Charity.

Identity. Prayer. Mission.

One without the other just isn't authentic. Not if you call yourself a church.

Whether we know it or not, whether we intend it or not, we reveal more about ourselves than we imagine without ever even opening our mouths.

Whether there's a sign outside our homes or how we just go about our lives, living the best we can, we send powerful messages about our understanding of who we think we are and our vision of who and what we can become.

It's a little like this: You couldn't get more different that the eastern part of Sussex County than the west. It just wouldn't be authentically Lower, Slower Delaware without them both. 

Georgetown. Dover. Wilmington. Three very different cities in three very different counties.

Sussex. Kent. New Castle.

Each one adds to the richness and diversity of the entire "First State".

Church is an identity, not an activity.

That'll preach!  It'll also work. If we let it. 

Buh-bye!

It was not exactly a big-ticket news item, but my ears certainly perked up when I heard the news.

Sarah Palin's million-dollar contract with Fox News has not been renewed.

Or, to use a word from the Palin Lexicon: She has been refudiated.

That's a word she created on Twitter when she wrote, "Ground Zero Mosque supporters: doesn't it stab you in the heart, as it does ours throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, pls refudiate."

She says she created the word that was named "Word of the Year" by the New Oxford American Dictionary when:

"I pressed an F instead of a P and people freaked out," said Sarah, pointing out that her blunder was the second-most-searched word on Google trends. "Make lemonade out of lemons," said Sarah.

Except, of course, that the 'F' and 'P' keys on a QWERTY keyboard are not near each other.

That never stopped Our Sarah. That kind of creativity can only come from Ms. Palin, when asked in a 2008 interview with Katie Couric, which newspapers or magazines she read, and her response was: "All of 'em, any of 'em that have been in front of me over all these years." 

She's also the undisputed Queen of Teh Stoopid, earning her crown when she wrote about Benghazi:

"Why the lies? Why the cover up? Why the dissembling about the cause of the murder of our ambassador on the anniversary of the worst terrorist attacks on American soil? We deserve answers to this. President Obama's shuck and jive shtick with these Benghazi lies must end."

Yup. She said that about the President of the United States. Who happens to be a Black man.

When she explained herself, however, she earned a jewel in her crown:

"I’ve been known to use the phrase most often when chastising my daughter Piper to stop procrastinating and do her homework. As she is part Yup’ik Eskimo, I’m not sure if this term would be deemed offensive when it’s directed at her or if it would be considered benign as in the case of Chris Matthews’ use of it in reference to Rachel Maddow," she wrote. "Just to be careful, from now on I’ll avoid using it with Piper, and I would appreciate it if the media refrained from using words and phrases like igloo, Eskimo Pie, and 'when hell freezes over,' as they might be considered offensive by my extended Alaska Native family."

Even Teh Stoopid has its own sort of brilliance, as amply demonstrated in this quote.

See, she was just talking to the Leader of the Free world the way she to her daughter.  Just stop procrastinating and do her homework. And, further demonstrating her firm grasp on that which is at least politically correct, she even asked the media to refrain from using words that might be offensive to her extended Alaska Native family. 

Like: Igloo. Eskimo Pie. And, 'when hell freezes over'.

Makes you wonder why Fox let her go, right?

I'm hoping that this means we'll be hearing less and less from Ms. Palin, and she will become a mere footnote on the pages of American History - in the chapter entitled, "When America Lost Its Mind."

I doubt it.

She'll become famous for once being famous.

Or, infamous.

I can't imagine her running for political office - at any level - ever again.  She would never take the chance of running and losing, and her chances of winning are pretty slim.

I think certain factions of what was once grand about the Grand Old Party have realized that she has seriously tarnished their "brand". My goodness, the Republicans have even capitulated on the Debt Ceiling and now, immigration. Of course, they've only done that because they know they need the Hispanic vote in order to win elections.

It's just politics.

To apply a word coined by George "Dubya" Bush, another leading intellectual of the GOP, don't "misunderestimate" Ms. Palin: she'll reappear somewhere.  The Political Theater needs her like, well, like an Eskimo needs an igloo.

Her leaving Fox News - or, Fox News leaving her - is just one more positive sign of the amazing victory won in the last Presidential Election. Yes, we won re-election of Barack H. Obama - an important achievement in an of itself - but we also won an ideological struggle that has had its grip on this country since the "game change" of 2008.

No need to get all "wee-wee'd up" - as Our Sarah likes to say.  She'll be fine. She's a Mama Grizzly. She can take care of herself and her young.

With apologies to Ms. Palin's extended Alaska Native family, she'll only disappear completely when hell freezes over.

Let's just say a polite but meaninful "Buh-bye" to Ms. Palin and wish her well.

And, breathe a sigh of relief.

That sound you just heard is this country, getting back on track.

Valor Knows No Gender

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the revolution is quietly but surely happening. 

Women are now officially allowed in combat roles - on the front lines of the battle.

That's because the lines are changing - or, perhaps, blurring.

Truth is that women have long been "in harms way," laying down their lives for their country.

 Truth is that, active-duty female personnel make up roughly 15 percent -- or 207,308 members of the more than 1.4 million members -- of the armed forces.  Since 2001, 280,000 women have been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. Of that number, 152 women have been killed in combat in the two wars, and 946 were wounded, according to the latest Defense data.

Veterans such as U.S. Rep. Tammy Duckworth (D-IL) — the purple heart recipient and the first woman injured in combat to be elected to national office in November — applauded the move as a broadening of opportunities for women and said it will improve the nation's armed forces.

But several older veterans said most women are not physically strong enough to participate directly in combat.

To reassure them, Secretary of Defense, Leon Panetta, said,  "If members of our military can meet the qualifications for a job -- and let me be clear, we are not reducing qualifications -- then they should have the right to serve."

He says that like this is a new concept. 

General Dempsy said that the ban was a "technical correction" that, "may help stem sexual assault."

I get the first part. It is a "technical correction," especially in face of the facts about women serving in Afghanistan and Iraq. I honestly don't see the new rules stemming sexual assault.

The "corrective," I fear, doesn't get that "technical".

I'm not sure, exactly, what the good General means, except that I think it's important that he raised that particular flag. It's an admission of the truth that, while women have been keeping the country safe, the military has not done much to keep women safe.

That was an unintended, additional benefit of the announcement. 

I confess that I am decidedly ambivalent about women in combat. I confess that I don't understand why a woman - or, for that matter, a man - would want to be in combat. That being said, I support equal access to employment, even if it's work in the midst of combat.

Of course, the new order doesn't go into effect until January, 2016, but it will open up hundreds of thousands of jobs for women.

Although the Defense Department opened 14,325 jobs to women in May 2012, some 237,854 (roughly 19 percent) of the 1.2 million positions available throughout the military remained closed to women.

Of these, 53,000 are jobs for which women would qualify -- as medics or mechanics or intelligence specialists -- but for the fact that the openings are in combat units, such as special operations forces and small infantry units.

Another 184,000 jobs involve specialties, such as tank crewman, that have also been closed to women.

All these jobs will officially open up to women January 2016.

Women who qualify - mentally and physically.

The standards have not been lowered, the qualifications have not been reduced and the requirements have not changed. 

Because valor knows no gender.

We the people, bending the arc

Yes, I was privileged to be at the Inauguration of President Barack Obama and Vice President Joe Biden on Monday.

Yes, of course, I collected souvenirs: my ticket, my commemorative Metro pass, my "I was there!" button, a few pens to share with family, my refrigerator magnet, and my coffee mug. No T-shirt. Got too many of them, anyway.

Yes, the crowds were....well...crowded. Estimates are between 800,000 and one million. People. In one place.  The Metro was excellent in terms of moving people along. Trains ran about every 2-3 minutes.  The people, however, were very cooperative and polite and festive.

This was the second inauguration of Barack Obama. We were "Fired up! Ready to go!"

The diversity was amazing. Old and young. Mink coats and puff jackets. Tights and Hajibs. Weaves and pony tails. Beards and clean-shaven faces - no matter, mouths and faces were covered with scarfs. African, Afro-Caribbean, African-American, Native American, Asian American, Hispanic American, Caucasian, people from the Pacific Rim, Arab, Jews, Muslim, Christians, and every creed.

Waiting to enter the TSA Security Tent

Security, of course, was tight.  The National Guard, the Army, and the Boarder Patrol were everywhere. In uniform.

Roads were closed and there was a HUGE tent set up just before Constitution Ave. where we all had to have our tickets checked and empty our pockets, endure having our bags gone through, and walk through a metal detector.

And yes, we had to walk. And, walk. And, stand for a long while. And then walk again.

It didn't matter. We, the people, were on a journey. We were not about to let a cold day in DC stop us from celebrating our victory.

Yes, it was Very Cold on the Mall in Washington, DC, but there were several moments that so warmed my heart that I only realized just how brutal the temperature outside had been once I was back at the hotel, all warm and snug.

Bundled - and fired - up!

My heart first began to soar when Myrlie Evers-Williams gave the Invocation. Just seeing the widow of Medgar Evers asking "blessings upon our leaders, the president, vice president, members of Congress, all elected and appointed officials of the United States of America," brought tears to my eyes and a lump to my throat.

She prayed:

One hundred fifty years after the Emancipation Proclamation and 50 years after the March on Washington, we celebrate the spirit of our ancestors, which has allowed us to move from a nation of unborn hopes and a history of disenfranchised [votes] to today’s expression of a more perfect union. We ask, too, almighty that where our paths seem blanketed by [throngs] of oppression and riddle by pangs of despair we ask for your guidance toward the light of deliverance. And that the vision of those that came before us and dreamed of this day, that we recognize that their visions still inspire us.

Their visions still inspire us. Indeed, they do. If you needed any evidence of that, all you had to do was listen to President Obama's Inaugural Address.

If you didn't hear it on Monday morning, you can certainly read the transcript by clicking the link above, or you can even find a video of it and watch it for yourself.

I, myself, watched it on the Jumbotron - along with all of the people in my section, which was just behind the reflection pool. What I would have missed, had I stayed home and watched the whole thing on TV, was the reaction of "we the people".

I wish you could have seen the electricity in the crowd when President Obama said:

We, the people, declare today that the most evident of truths —- that all of us are created equal —- is the star that guides us still; just as it guided our forebears through Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall;

People all around me looked at each other to make sure we heard it right. Did he say, "Stonewall"? Really? Yes! Yes! He said, "Seneca Falls, and Selma, and Stonewall"!

Oh, my!

We were all still letting that soak in when we heard the President say:

Our journey is not complete until our gay brothers and sisters are treated like anyone else under the law —- (applause) -- for if we are truly created equal, then surely the love we commit to one another must be equal as well. (Applause.) 

People - from all races and creeds and ages and walks of life - were fist-bumping and hugging and laughing and hooting and crying.  The joy of the young people around me was especially palpable.

Yes, he also talked about immigration and voter suppression and women's rights. But, he not only said, "Stonewall". He said "gay brothers and sisters". And, he talked about our love being equal.

Oh. My. God!

It was then that I heard it. It was an unmistakable sound - one I'd heard only faintly before - but I instantly knew what it was.

With my chaperone, Doug Condit

It was in the sound of the words once spoken by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

It was the sound captured in a vision that still inspires us. 

It was this: The sound of the arc of history bending toward justice. 

"The arc of history is long," said Dr. King, but it always bends toward justice."

Yes, we were watching history unfold and, in fact, participating in it, but we were also watching the future opening up in the same vision of freedom and justice for all that inspired the men and women who founded this nation.

And, we were being inspired, once again, to participate in the shaping of that vision for the future.

We. The People. 

It was a remarkable experience, and I feel so blessed to have been able to have been there to experience a piece of our history - and to catch a glimpse of a future in which we were all invited to participate and live with liberty and justice for all.

Yes, it was cold and yes, my feet and legs and back are still sore.

But my heart is still strangely warmed and my soul is still singing, "We the people."

Choose Life!

Walking With Love, Justice and Action

At the RCRC 40^th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade

 Washington, DC – January 20, 2013

The Rev’d Dr. Elizabeth Kaeton

Note: These remarks were delivered at the RCRC (Religious Coalition for Reproductive Choice) Interfaith Service of "Blessing and Welcome for our friends in Congress, the returning Administration and their staffs" at the First Congregational United Church of Christ in Washington, DC.

Choose life.

That’s a religious mandate for many people of many different expressions of faith.

I don’t know about you, but I am sick and tired of being sick and tired of being clobbered by scripture.  I am sick unto death of having this particular piece of scripture used – by some folks – as a guilt trip when I explain to some that I work for reproductive justice.

“But, what about what scripture says?” they ask. You know, 'Choose LIFE'?”

I’ve made a New Year’s resolution to take back scripture from the misuse and abuse of people who choose to use it for their own purposes. So, what I’m about to offer are a few of my thoughts about “Choose Life” as I reflect on the 40^th Anniversary of Roe v. Wade.

Choose life.  Choose what is good. Choose what is right. For you. For your life. 

In a very short, two-words sentence, we are asked to cherish the two great gifts of the human enterprise: Free will and the goodness of our creation.

“Choose life.” Not “Let someone else make the choice for you.” Not, “This is what life is and when it begins and how I define it for you.”

No, the directive is simply, “Choose life.” We are invited to discover the wonder and mystery and complexity of that simple sentence the rest of our whole lives.

Choose what gives you life. What enhances your life. What contributes to your life. For, in so doing, we contribute to the well being of the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, the ability for an individual – especially women – to define and decide what is good for their life is being limited by the definitions and decisions of others.

We have been in this place before.  

In June of 1969, a 21-year-old Texas woman named Norma McCorvey found herself pregnant for the third time. She had left home at the age of 14 and had lost custody of her first child to her mother and had placed her second child for adoption. She was living in Louisiana with her father and working several low-paying jobs.

She grew despondent and depressed and desperate as she began to understand that she would be unemployable as a young mother with a child and no support. Moving back to Texas seemed the only option left open to her. At least there she could claim she had been raped and be allowed to have an abortion. At least, that’s what her friends told her.

Due to lack of documentation and evidence of rape, her scheme did not work. She tried to obtain an illegal abortion at several clinics she and her friends knew, but found that the police had closed them down. The only other option was to seek out non-medical, non-professional “back alley” abortion – a procedure performed by persons either lacking the necessary skills or in an environment lacking the minimal medical standards or both.

It is important to know that, according to a 2002 study by Planned Parenthood, estimates of the annual number of illegal abortions in the United states during the 1950s and 1960s range from 200,00 to 1.2 million. During that same period of time, as many as 5,000 American women died annually as a direct result of unsafe abortions.

Indeed, Leslie Reagan chronicles many of these stories in her book, “When Abortion Was A Crime”. Women often tried to induce abortion or cause a miscarriage by throwing themselves down stairs or inflicting violence on themselves. They ingested, douched with or inserted into themselves a chilling variety of chemicals and toxins – from bleach to potassium permanganate to turpentine to gunpowder and whiskey. Knitting needles, crochet hooks, scissors and coat hangers were all tools used by women who had not choice but to resort to these means.

As Frederica Matthews-Green is quoted as saying, “No woman wants an abortion as she wants an ice cream cone or a Porsche. She wants an abortion as an animal caught in a trap wants to gnaw off its own leg.”

Every young woman, no matter her age, knew a story about a woman – a friend or a friend of the cousin of a distant relative – who had had an abortion. Rarely was the outcome good – which included either the death of the woman or her inability to conceive. Seeking to choose life for herself and her family, McCorvey did seek out legal assistance, turning to attorneys Linda Coffee and Sarah Weddington. Ultimately, she gave birth to the child three years before the U.S. Supreme Court finally heard the case.

On January 22, 1973, Roe (AKA Norma McCorvey) v. Wade (AKA Henry Wade, Dallas County DA) became an historical, landmark decision by the United States Supreme Court on the issue of abortion.  The Court ruled 7-2 that a right to privacy under the due process clause of the 14^th Amendment extended to a woman’s decision to have an abortion, but that right must be balanced against the state’s two legitimate interests in regulating abortions: protecting prenatal life and protecting women’s health.

In the midst of the tension of these two concerns, the country was plunged into the midst of a passionate national debate which has hardly abated over the last 40 years.

Meanwhile, Norma McCorvey went on with her life, choosing to live quietly and privately with her long-time life partner, Connie Gonzales. In 1995, she was befriended by evangelical minister Flip Benham and was baptized by him in August of that year. She also publicly announced her remorse for her involvement in Roe v. Wade and became an advocate of Operation Rescue’s campaign to make abortion illegal.

She changed her mind. She made another choice. I still shake my head whenever I hear people who are opposed to abortion defend the change of her choice, claim that it is “a woman’s prerogative” to change her mind. They say this without any evidence of an awareness of the irony of that statement. 

Twenty-two years after Roe v. Wade, Norma McCorvey made a different choice about the life-altering choice of abortion.  She was able to make that choice because she was free – she had the civil and spiritual right – to make another choice. How ironic that her choice includes restricting the rights of others to Choose Life for themselves. 

I confess that the logic of that position completely escapes me. When former Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin discovered that the child she was carrying had Trisomy-21 – a condition formerly known as Down’s Syndrome – she reports that she briefly considered abortion, but then proudly states that she “chose life.”

Yes, she chose the life that was best for her, which included the choice to continue with her pregnancy. However, she and others like her seem not to understand that their choices do not include limiting the choices of other women to choose life for themselves in the way that is best defined for them.

Choose life. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we do this work. We choose to do this work because we want to guarantee that a woman has a choice about what happens to her body. We choose to do this work because we want to guarantee that a woman has a choice about what happens to her family. We choose to do this work because we want to insure that a woman has a choice about her own future. We choose to do this work because we know that what we do is life-giving to millions of women in this country and around the world.  Can somebody here give me an, “Amen”?

According to the World Health Organization, in countries where abortion remains unsafe it is the leading cause of maternal mortality, accounting for 78,000 of the 600,000 annual pregnancy-related deaths worldwide.

According to the Alan Guttmacher Instituted, approximately 219 women die worldwide each day from an unsafe abortion.  219. Women. Worldwide. Every. Day.

Six months after abortion was legalized in Guyana in 1995, admissions for septic and incomplete abortion dropped by 41%. One year after Romania legalized abortion in 1990, its abortion-related mortality fell from 142 to 47 deaths per 100,000 live births.

Legalization of abortion allows women to obtain timely abortions, thereby reducing the risk of complications. In 1970, one in four abortions in the United States took place after 13 weeks gestation. Today, according to the Guttmacher Institute, approximately 88-92% of all abortions in the US take place before the end of the first trimester.

To keep abortion safe and legal for women is to choose life. It is choosing life for women whose life choices are already limited by poverty, unemployment, substandard housing or homelessness, limited access to quality education and few quality health care options.

For those who would choose to reduce or limit the number of abortions, I ask that you consider this choice: Put down your placards and posters that carry grotesque images and dire scriptural judgments and warnings. Seek not to pass laws to make abortion illegal. 

Choose instead to change the reasons women have abortions. Work to end poverty. Work to improve education. Work to create jobs. Work to improve health care. Make these choices and you will improve the choices women have and reduce the need for abortion.

Work to repeal the Hyde Amendment which prevents the very women who need it most – women who live in desperate poverty like Norma McCorvey once did and have no support much less resources for themselves and their families – from attaining reproductive justice.

Work to make real the acceptance of contraception as a normal part of a woman’s preventative health care. (Can somebody PLEASE tell me why we are still having this conversation in the year 2013?)

Work to dismantle the underlying oppressive, interlocking systems of racism and sexism and heterosexisms, so that – to paraphrase the great words of Martin Luther King, Jr., whose spirit continues to guide us and lead us in all matters of justice – a woman’s life may be judged, not by the color of her skin or the contents of her uterus, but on the content of her character.

Choose to understand that, long before a collection of cells grows into and is born and takes that first breath of life and becomes a person, the pregnant woman in whose body those cells gathered and grew was and is a living person whose dignity and free will and civil rights must be respected.

Her life, her intelligence, her integrity, her ability to make choices for herself and her family, her status as a citizen of these United States must be respected, and her freedoms must not be denied.

The choice is really simple: Choose life.

We choose life when we choose to walk together in Love – respecting the dignity of every human being. 

We choose life when we choose to walk together in justice – insuring that the civil and spiritual and religious right of free will is protected and guaranteed for all.   

We choose life when we choose to walk together in action – moving ourselves out of our complacency and past our illusions of security.

Choose life, my sisters and brothers, that we may walk together as children of God. 

And let all God’s children say, “Amen.”

Writer's Block

The irony has not escaped me that I am writing this blog about writer's block.

In case you haven't noticed, I have it. Writer's block, that is.

I understand that some of the contributing factors to writer's blog include stress, sickness, lack of sleep, overwhelmed by projects and deadlines, having lots of creative demands, and (speaking of irony) having to have something to write.

I understand professional writers and journalists get this from time to time. I'm neither. I don't have to write. I write because it keeps me sane, not to put food on the table.

I've not been unusually stressed, or ill (well, a few days of the sniffles). I've been getting my usual hours of sleep. And yes, we're in the middle of Christmastide. I think that counts for "being overwhelmed by projects and deadlines" as well as "having lots of creative demands".

Truth is, I have been writing. A lot. Well, journaling. Which is how most of my blogs begin anyway. It's just that this is really personal stuff - yes, even more than what I normally write about on this blog. I mean, I DO have some boundaries!

Most of it is sorting through some of the stuff I deal with as a Hospice Chaplain. No, I'm not overwhelmed by dealing daily with people who are dealing with dying and death.

If I'm overwhelmed about anything, it's the ability of the human spirit to soar as death approaches. Sometimes, it's the patient. Other times, it's a family member or the entire family.

I'm amazed - no, really amazed - at the capacity of the human spirit to forgive -  and/or hold grudges.  Sometimes, I've heard expressed - with the last few breaths of life - such pure love or pure rage that it takes my breath away.

And yes, you can have a 'peaceful death' taking your last breath while spewing out the name of a person who has hurt or betrayed you. Forgiveness? Yeah, well, that's nice, but, you know, it's not my death. Thankfully, no one has to live up to my expectations of what it means to have a "peaceful death" - and, I don't have to live up to anyone else's expectations.

Everyone has to walk their own path.

I figure it's none of the patient's concern if it's my need to have him/her leave this planet with everything all neat and tidy and wrapped up with a nice big bow.

Sometimes, it's a real tribute to real life if it isn't. We all come into this world naked, raw, messy and screaming. Some of us need to leave that way, too.

I'm astounded - no, really astounded - by the way words fail to describe some of the things I've witnessed. Words like "amazed". And "astounded". And, how "awful" can be "awesome".

The best way to do that is to tell the story - paint a word picture so you can see what I see and experience what I've experienced - and let you all be amazed and astounded.

I can't do that. Not without giving away too much information and jeopardizing the identities of my patients. I would be a bad chaplain - the worst - if I broke the sacred trust and confidentiality of the patients entrusted to my care even in the smallest way.

I've tried to write in generalities - like I'm doing right now - but I only get frustrated. I want so much to tell you about what I see and hear and feel. To let you into this part of the world.  To see how all the things we think are so important mean little or nothing - or, absolutely everything - when death begins to knock on your door.

Oh, I could write something that would be analytical and theological. With appropriate professional distance. Sanitized. Impersonal.

I'm just not in that place. My heart and my head and soul are still with my patients and their families.

How do you write about awe?

So, you understand my writer's block. Well, on this blog. I'm still writing. A lot. I just can't print it here in this public space.

For those of you who may have had or may one day get writer's block, I'm told there are things one can do.  Read more. Talk to creative people. Change your environment - get up and take a walk. Or, take a trip. Go to a place that gets your creative juices flowing: The ocean. The mountains. A lake. New York City. Or, you could drink coffee. Hi octane caffeinated. Or, take a nap.

I've been reading. A lot. I'm three-quarters of the way through "Team of Rivals" by Doris Kearns Goodwin. She is highly talented at drawing word sketches so thorough you can see the characters in front of you. I'm also fascinated by the way she treats the reports of homosexuality in that age and time. I've just finished reading "Proof of Heaven" and can't wait to start "Gone Girl", the breakthrough murder mystery novel by Gillian Flynn.

No, I'm not a murder-mystery fan, but I understand this one is so well written it's irresistible. So, I'm giving it a try. I mean, the NY Times review said this:

It is wily, mercurial, subtly layered and populated by characters so well imagined that they’re hard to part with — even if, as in Amy’s case, they are already departed.

See what I mean? 

When I'm not reading well-written books by highly skilled and talented authors, I am blessed to hang out with amazingly creative people - many of whom are in my own family.

Besides,  I'm going to be in New York the end of this month and North Carolina for a week in February.

This will lift. I'll be able to write here about other things. Or, I may find a creative way to write about what I've been seeing and feeling and doing.

Thanks for bearing with me through this time. 

I'm thinking it's not so much 'writer's block'.

It's more like ''writer's break'.

Aum.

What a very rational way to begin the story of creation.

Poetic, but rational.

Word. Not "sound". That would have made it more mystical.

Word.

Not "OM" or "AUM" - which Hindus say is the sound at the beginning of the universe. Hindus believe that as creation began, the divine, all-encompassing consciousness took the form of the first and original vibration manifesting as sound "OM".

The vibration of "OM" symbolizes the manifestation of God in form. "OM" is the reflection of the absolute reality, it is said to be "Adi Anadi", without beginning or the end and embracing all that exists.The mantra "OM" is the name of God, the vibration of the Supreme.

When taken letter by letter, A-U-M represents the divine energy (Shakti) united in its three elementary aspects: Bhrahma Shakti (creation), Vishnu Shakti (preservation) and Shiva Shakti (liberation, and/or destruction).

It's the Hindu expression of what Christians call "The Trinity".

It is a sacred sound, one that can be translated as meaning, "I am existence."  Not just creation, but that which preserves and liberates (and/or destroys) creation.

Or, in the words of John's Gospel:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Jesus, of course, is the "Word of God" who was in the beginning with God and is the light that shines in the darkness that darkness did not - can not - overcome.

The sound of the name of Jesus is a vibration of the sound of God which is Love.

Love incarnate. Love divine.

In the beginning was Love and Love was with God and Love was God. Love was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through Love and without Love not one thing came into being. What has come into being in Love was life and the life was the light of all people. The Light of Love shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

That's a lot of words to describe what Incarnate Love is and what love incarnate can do.

I think the Hindus may have it right.

No rational thinking. No poetic words to describe a mystery.

Just a sound that vibrates throughout the cosmos, through human constructs of time, surpassing all human ability for reason and understanding.

It's the sound of Divine Love incarnate in humankind.

Aum.

Which sounds enough like "Amen" for me to say, "May it be so."

In memoriam

I occasionally preside at military funerals and they always bring about mixed emotions.

On the one hand, all that rigid precision of movements kinda creeps me out - I mean, from the "half time" step march, to the "present arms' and the snap of rifles, to the unfolding and folding of the flag, and including the scripted words said to the bereaved as the precisely folded flag is handed to them - the ritual never changes. Not even an iota.

In some ways, the boys in the military are more 'catholic' than the boys in Rome.

On the other hand, I'm glad that our government and the various veterans organizations have made provisions to recognize and honor the sacrifice of the former soldier who served in one of the branches of the military.

Part of my ambivalence comes, in part, because it's easier to show up at a funeral than to provide adequate care for veterans. Especially those whose scars are not visible. Those with PTSD who 'self-medicate' at the bar of AMVETs or VFW halls that seem to proliferate in rural areas where I live (there are three of these places within a 10 mile radius of my home - 2 within less than 5 miles). Or, those who move on to stronger drugs and alienate their families, or can't keep a steady job or keep a roof over their heads or, as in one case in NYC, shoes on their feet.

I sure wish the government would show up for them. You know. While they're alive. And, need stuff. Like health care and mental health care and social services.

I'm probably most ambivalent about the 21-Gun Salute.  I mean, I'm not that dense. I get it. Veterans are about wars and wars are about guns.

There's just something kinda creepy about an honor guard made up mostly of old, retired soldiers who half-step march their way outside and fire off their pop guns. I was especially surprised when the leader of the honor guard gathered up the spent shells and presented them to the family.

Right. Just what I want to take home from my loved one's funeral: bullet casings.

To each his own, I suppose.

There are two things, however, that are always deeply moving to me. The first is the folding of the flag. The flag often drapes the casket and then is folded. If there is no casket - if the body has been cremated and there's an urn - the soldiers unfold the flag, snap it out to its full length, and then refolded precisely 13 times.

I always thought it was symbolic of the 13 original states in America but, turns out, each fold has its own meaning. One of the men from the honor guard was able to rattle them off for me, in proper order. He also told me that the folded triangle shape serves to remind us of the hats worn by the soldiers who served under General Washington and the seamen who served under Admiral John Paul Jones - the original "defenders of freedom".

And, here I thought it was folded into a triangle so it could fit into those triangle glass cases.

No matter. There is something deeply moving to see a young soldier gently and tenderly hand over the folded flag to the grieving family. I'm not certain why, exactly, but it always makes me tearful.

And then, of course, there's taps. These days, it's hard to find someone who plays the bugle who will come out to the graveside service of an old, retired veteran, so they have it on tape. Or, iPod. It's a recording, anyway, that gets amplified as if the bugle were right in the room.

It's a very haunting melody that finds its way around around one's heart strings and gently tugs until tears appear.

Here's the thing: Presiding at military funerals has emboldened me to be less apologetic about the church's rituals and liturgies. I preside at lots of Christian but non-Episcopalian funerals and I've always been reticent about doing things like blessing the urn or casket with holy water, or saying 'traditional prayers' or sprinkling the casket with dirt and saying, "ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

I'm not rigid about it, but I have come to understand that those symbols and rituals and liturgies bring great comfort to those who mourn. No, it may not come from their particular tradition, and - don't kid yourself - there are as many of the older generation who are as much a part of the growing demographic of the "Nones" as there are young people.

And yet, people seem to know intuitively what to expect at a funeral or memorial service. They know it as well as they expect a wedding ceremony to begin, "Dearly beloved, we have come together in the presence of God........".

They might not darken the doors of a church at any other time of the year, but when they step through those doors for a wedding or a funeral, they have a basic sense about what is going to happen and how its going to go and what words are going to be said. The words may not be exactly the same, but the 'shape of the liturgy' stays pretty consistent.

And, they take great comfort in and from it all.

I'm thankful for the military honor guard for helping me remember what I learned so many years ago in seminary but had forgotten: We humans are ritualistic creatures who simultaneously embrace and rebel against the traditions of our human institutions.

Grief can intensify either feeling of embrace or rejection, or it can push us to a sense of ambivalence and lead us to a sense of apathy.

If the church as an institution ceased to exist tomorrow, our need for ritual and tradition and liturgy would go on. We'd just make up new stuff that will probably look and sound a lot like what we've always done.

Because that's just how human beings are set up.

Sometimes, it takes watching a rigid, militaristic ritual to remind you of the baseline, foundational importance which ritual and tradition capture: Memory.

Jesus knew that. That's why he instituted a simple meal -  the common occurrence of a meal and the common elements of that meal - and said, "Do this in remembrance of me."

Bread and wine beat bugles and flags, hands down in my book, but their real power is not in the elements themselves but, rather, in the memory - or memories - they provoke.

One of the greatest balms to sooth the sting of death is memory.

In memoriam.

As Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote in his poem by the same name:

I hold it true, whate'er befall;

I feel it when I sorrow most;

'Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

Christmas Scrabble

I am happily, deliriously exhausted.

Christmas festivities can do that to a body.

I think my favorite part of the day - I mean, besides the opening of presents and the fantastic standing rib roast dinner and and the Christmas cookies, and the eggnog (newly discovered Lewes Dairy brand which is Out.Of.This.World.) - is when we play Scrabble.

Our daughters are smart and creative and competitive, but our son-in-law is a brilliant strategist.  And, he knows how to use the Scrabble dictionary app on his iPhone to good advantage.

His team won but, you know, it was really no contest. I mean, I'm a total, unrepentant logophile but there's just no match for a good strategist.

For example, you can probably score 15 points for the word "logophile" just with the letters alone, but you can vastly improve that score depending on whether or not, say, the H tile (worth 4 points) or the P tile (worth 3 points) fall on a double or triple letter square.

Or, you might just place the word in such a way that it builds off another word and then you get all those points, too.  IF, that is, another team doesn't use that word to build their word.

Just to add to the fun, you can use an egg timer to limit the amount of time spent on strategy. Which is really important when you've got one player who's really good with strategy.

It's a little like life, you know? It's not what you've got. It's how you use it. And, with whom you play. Sometimes, you've got all the time in the world. Other times, someone flips over the timer and you've only got a minute to make your move. And, sometimes....well, sometimes you just get lucky with what you pull out of the bag. 

Our whole family gets into it.  Which I love. 

I know. That's probably not what some people expect is on the "agenda" of a bunch of people who live an "alternative lifestyle".

I'm not sure what we're supposed to be doing, exactly, but as for me and my household, this "new normal" family plays Scrabble.

I can hardly wait for next year's Christmas game of Scrabble.

Thank goodness I get a whole year to rest up for it.

Have I mentioned that I'm happily, deliriously exhausted?

No matter how many points any of those words earn - or how they get played.

Gathering 'round a mystery

Christmas Day - December 25, 2012

The Episcopal Church of All Saints, Rehoboth Beach, DE

Today - this Christmas morn - while countless others gather 'round the tree and lots of presents, we gather in this church, 'round a great mystery.

The Incarnation - that God took on human flesh and came and lived among us - is one of the Great Mysteries of our lives of faith.

The Incarnation is a mystery second only to the mystery that is God.

God, who shaped and formed the world - our universe, our cosmos - and set the stars in the sky and ordered the sun and the moon to obey and rule the night and the day and the seasons and all creation and creatures of this earth, this same God created us and entrusted all of creation to humankind and gave us the gift of Free Will.

Because we do not always use this gift wisely or well, God became one of us, to walk with us and teach us how to walk with God on the path that leads us back to Paradise.

It's all a great mystery - how it all works - but here's the thing about Christmas: It's what makes us Christians.

Not Santa Claus. Not his eight tiny reindeer.  Not Frosty the Snowman or Susy Snowflake.

Christmas makes us Christians.

Believe what you will about the Virgin Birth or the Atonement or the Resurrection or even the Trinity. We have Free Will. You can believe what you want - and, God knows, many Christians do.

But, if you don't believe in the Incarnation....if you don't believe that Jesus is God incarnate....well, why call yourself a Christian?

And, if you are a Christian, why not strive to walk in His ways?  If you do, just be prepared for a few surprises to appear on the path you walk with Jesus.

Let me give you an example.

I've been caring for an elderly man in his nineties who, among his other many physical ailments, suffers from what is known as senile dementia. He sometimes doesn't remember things - important things - like, his wife's name or, some times, his own.

He recently asked me to bring him communion. This was a huge request. He has been a Roman Catholic all his life. Well, up until twenty-five years ago when he divorced his first wife and remarried a woman who is a devout Presbyterian. Because of his divorce and marrying "outside the faith," he has been denied communion all these 25 years.

As soon as we began to say the "Hail Mary" together, he began to weep. Big, fat tears filled his tired, cloudy blue eyes and rolled down his hollow cheeks.  "I've said that prayer to myself, alone, every night, for the past 25 years," he said. "It feels so amazing to say it out loud with another person."

We then said the Lord's Prayer together and again, he wept. After he received communion, the man wept and wept and wept for joy. When he was able to collect himself to speak,  he said, "You, my dear woman, have made me a new Catholic."

I smiled and said, "Well, let's not tell the Pope." And, we laughed and laughed through our tears.

And then, he cleared his throat and said the most amazing thing.

"Do you know why we couldn't eat of the fruit of the tree in the Garden of Eden?"

I prepared myself for the "traditional" theology of the sin and wretchedness of the human condition. I was totally unprepared for what he was about to say.

"Well," he said, "it's because we were not yet ready to eat of that fruit of the tree. And, it's because the fruit itself was not yet ripe. We had to wander around for centuries, straying far from God, while the fruit of the tree continued to ripen. Finally, when the fruit was ripe, it hung from a tree in Calvary and finally, finally, we were ready to learn that, no matter how far we stray from God, we can always eat of the fruit of Wisdom and find our way back to God."

I sat there, astonished. Now, I've read more books of theology than is probably healthy for one body and I can tell you that I've never read anything that sounded anything anywhere near that. It's mostly about how we are wretched creatures and miserable offenders who need a savior.

Hearing that we weren't yet ready and the fruit not yet ripe enough with wisdom was astounding and marvelous to my ears.

I said to him, "Good sir, I believe you have made me a new Christian."

He smiled mischievously and his blue eyes twinkled and he said, "Well, let's DO tell the Pope!"

We gather around a mystery this morning, to begin anew our walk with Jesus. We can take baby steps at first, just as he did.  Just plan to be surprised as you walk along His path. 

Don't be surprised if you find yourself, one day, on the path that leads into a wilderness desert to confront some of your own demons.

Or, to be confronted by the poor and hungry and find yourself strangely moved to care for them.

Or, you might stumble upon someone left to die on the side of the road and suddenly find yourself organizing the community to care for him.

Or, you just might find yourself witnessing an injustice and suddenly become involved in a political battle to bend the moral arc of the universe toward justice.

I don't know how that happens, exactly, but I know it's a mystery that begins with the mystery of the Incarnation.

I also know that it is a fearsome thing, indeed, this idea of the Incarnation - of Emanuel - of God with us. Which must be why we hear the angels say - as Mary heard and we read the shepherds heard - "Be not afraid."

Be not afraid.

God is with us.

Jesus is born unto us.

It is a mystery 'round which we gather.

Be not afraid.

Merry Christmas.

Amen.

Are you still here?

According to some interpretations of The Mayan Calendar, we should all be dead right now.

Or, perhaps, sometime today.

I mean, it's been "today" in New Zealand and Australia for so long it's almost "tomorrow" there. Word is, New Zealand and Australia still exist, so, there's that.

The 21st of December is also the Winter Solstice. It is the time at which the Sun is appearing at noon at its lowest altitude above the horizon. This earns this day the significance of being the shortest day and the longest night of the year.

This explains the various "Festivals of Lights" celebrated for centuries by people of various cultures and religious expressions, from Druids at Stonehenge in Britain and Celts at Newgrange in Ireland, to Jews celebrating Hanukkah to Christians who celebrate the birth of Jesus, "The Light of the World".

Some are calling this "The 2012 phenomenon" - a range of escatological beliefs according to which cataclismic and apocalyptic events will occur round 21 December 2012. This date is regarded as the end-date of a 5125-year-long cycle in the Mesoamerican Long Count calendar.

Some Republicans thought the end of the world came on November 6th when President Barack Obama was re-elected to a second term.

An astounding more of them thought the world as we now know it ended last night when House Speaker's Boehner's "Plan B" - which would raise taxes on those making $1 M and more and cut funding to things like "Meals On Wheels" - did not have enough votes from the Republican Party to pass the House.

So, the Speaker of the House declared a Merry Christmas to one and all and sent everyone home - on the path to go directly off the fiscal cliff.

Maybe the Mayans were right.

Truth is, most scholars believe that the Mayan calendar wasn't the "end of the world" but an end of a cycle of time and that we are entering a new period of transformation.

Mayan museum guide Karla Chan Poot said that, "(Mayan) People believe that they're going to see a change, in humanity, in our thinking, that there should be a return to nature. This won't be anything like the world ending, or a meteor crashing, or extraterrestrials arriving."

Actually, I do believe that the cosmos is conspiring with our culture to give us lots of messages about a transformation that is already upon us. We have damaged Mother Earth, almost beyond recognition.

Yes, WE - human beings - have done this.

"Climate change" is not an "act of God". It's a response of the universe to human beings polluting our environment.

The PBS series "The Dust Bowl," based on the work of Ken Burns, chronicles the worst man-made ecological disaster in American history, in which the frenzied wheat boom of the "Great Plow-Up," followed by a decade-long drought during the 1930s nearly swept away the breadbasket of the nation.

Beyond the historical facts and the powerful narrative from people who survived that period, "The Dust Bowl" is a morality tale about our relationship to the land that sustains us—a lesson we ignore at our peril.

Apparently, we have - and, we are, in fact, in great peril. The ice caps are melting.  The rain forests have been devastated. More and more species of animals are almost extinct.

We now have major snow storms in October in the Northeast part of this country. Hurricane Sandy completely and forever changed the Jersey Shore, Staten Island, and parts of the waterfront of New York City, bringing great torrents of water into the NY subway system.

I can tell you that, in the past ten years of owning a home on Rehoboth Bay, that the water levels are changing dramatically.  As I write this, there are piles of sea grass in my front yard from the severe wind and rain storm last night. My bird house is now lying on the ground, the pole that held the Christmas banner on my deck snapped off, and a piece of flashing on the roof has blown off.

That didn't happen during Sandy.  It happened last night.

That never used to happen in December. Not on Rehoboth Bay.

Clearly, the change and transformation of the earth is already in process.

Deena Metzger has written movingly of the Winter Solstice:

Our very sun, around which we circle, will be, with other planets, in a direct alignment with this dark hole, this place of birth and death, the heart of the universe, at 3:12 am on December 21st. The light of the sun aligned with the dark at the center.

Or so it is said.

How will we meet the demand? How will we meet the Heart of the Universe? How will we step out of our involvement and enchantment with the details of our own little lives, the bloody sacrificial altar to which we have been relentlessly bringing the earth, so as to meet this sacred challenge, the great possibility of our collective and community lives?

Everyone who is reading this is has been met by spirit and called to some awakening. How will we treat and take care of each other, human and non-human, and the earth in the 5th world?

I wonder if the shootings and killings - seven this year, including the horrific killings last week in Connecticut - aren't also cosmic and cultural messages that prompt these questions.

Will we be able - finally - to awaken to the depth of violence and corruption in our culture? Will we be able to take an honest look at the disconnection, isolation and pain in America that not only wound the human spirit and soul of this country but are devastating to Mother Earth?

How are we to make the dream of freedom and justice a reality when everything in our society is translated into the language of money and power?

Can we each, individually, shift our thinking away from greed, ego and self-centeredness towards a more compassionate understanding of how we are all interconnected with all of life?

Will we be able to find and create beauty in the wounded places of our earth and our lives? Can anything good come after Hurricanes Katrina and Irene and Sandy?

Mother Jones - Make that 155

As I write this, the Associated Press reports that a shooting rampage near Altoona, Pennsylvania, has left four people, including the shooter and two state troopers, dead. If those numbers are confirmed, the incident would add to the victim count for a year that has already seen a record number of lives lost to mass shootings.

Mother Jones reports that, since 1982, there have been at least 63 (now, possibly 64) mass murders carried out with firearms across the country, with the killings unfolding in 30 states from Massachusetts to Hawaii.  All of these murders - with the exception of one - have been committed by a lone, young (average age 35), male shooter, more than half of whom were considered mentally ill.

Instead of blaming the movie industry or the people who produce violent video games, might we take this opportunity to take a look - a long, hard look - at ourselves? Might we consider our own penchant for violence and why some of us seem to need to own assault guns?

Might we take a long, hard look at the invisibility of people with mental illness in our midst and the shame of our seeming inability to find effective treatment modalities for them?

Can anything good and noble be created after the mass shootings this year in Colorado, Wisconsin, Minneapolis, California, Washington, Connecticut and Pennsylvania?


What if the universe is conspiring towards a great turning?

What if we decide to act as if that's true?

Might there then be reason to hope, to awaken, and to be open to a new alignment?

Perhaps the world as we now know it is, in fact, coming to an end.

Maybe what we've seen in the November Election and again last night in the House of Representatives are all part of the process of the dying and death of the old way.

Perhaps a new world is in the midst of the hard labor of birth.

We can only hope and pray that we might be co-creators and spiritual midwives to this new world.

Because maybe, just maybe, we are the light we've been waiting for.

O Antiphons

 

I look forward to them every year. 

Even more than lighting the Advent Wreath.

Beginning December 17th, the O Antiphons are sung. One each day for 7 days, during Vespers/Evening Prayer or, if you're like me, during Compline. 

They are sung immediately preceding the Magnificat. A new one each day. Right up to Christmas.

The antiphons bring us closer to the incarnational event that is Christmas. Not to worry, we are still in Advent, but our journey to the birth of Christ comes closer and closer to 'emanuel' = God with us.

The O Antiphons are each named with the prophecy of Isaiah as a backdrop, and each one calls out a name for the messiah.

• December 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
• December 18: O Adonai (O Lord)
• December 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
• December 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David)
• December 21: O Oriens (O Dayspring)
• December 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations)
• December 23: O Emmanuel (O With Us is God)

The first letters of the titles taken backwards form a Latin acrostic of "Ero Cras" (Emmanuel. Rex. Oriens. Clavis. Radix. Adonai. Sapientia.) which translates to "Tomorrow, I will be there", mirroring the theme of the antiphons. (Clever, right?)

If you're not a liturgical junkie and don't know about the O Antiphons, you probably know the hymn "O Come, O Come, Emanuel". The hymn is a lyrical phrasing of the antiphons, which are best when chanted.  Of course. 

If you can't chant and Latin isn't your thang, as it were, then it's perfectly acceptable to sing the appropriate verse of the hymn before saying (or singing) the Magnificat.

To be honest, this Advent has been so frenetic, the only Advent discipline I've been able to keep is chanting the O Antiphons before the Magnificat when I say Compline. Then, I put my head down on the pillow and I think I fall asleep 30 seconds later.

No, my Christmas shopping isn't done. Not all my cards are written. I haven't started baking. I did make some Ghanian Peanut Soup last night for the staff Christmas Party this afternoon. I also wanted to make bread but, well, best laid plans and all of that.

I'm not sure how it works but the O Antiphons help me to keep the focus of my anticipation on the coming of Christ, which frees me up to stay focused on today.  This day. This present. Not the presents I've yet to buy and the things I've yet to do.

It's really quite wonderful and magical the way it lowers my stress level - well, enough for me to let go and get to sleep. 

If you haven't started saying the O Antiphons, I recommend it highly. 

Here's today's chant of the O Antiphon "O Root of Jesse" from the Benedictine Sisters of Erie, which you can hear by clicking this link. 

O Root of Jesse, standing as
protector of the people; silencing
rulers, inspiring the people to make
supplication. Come, do not delay,
deliver us.

Here's Sr. Joan's meditation on the O Antiphon.

December 19

It takes generations to build the
Christ vision in the world, just as
it took generations after Jesse to
prepare for the coming of the
Christ. It is our task to root ideas
now that will bring the next
generation to wholeness.
— Joan D. Chittister, OSB

And here's a lovely Healey Willan arrangement of O Radix Jesse.

It's never too late to have a Blessed Advent.