The Last Debate

Having Trouble With Genesis

2012-01-29T09:16:00.000-05:00

No profound insights or conclusions here, just something that I noticed recently that has been nagging at me.

The Old Testament readings appointed for the Daily Office in Year 2 begin with Genesis so that by the time we get to the end of Lent we are reading about the plagues in Egypt and, in the first week of Easter, the story of the Exodus.

Last night, the eve of the fourth Sunday after Epiphany, Abraham was visited by the "three angels" (about which I have some things I do want to say in another post that was meant for yesterday but for which I didn't have time...), and today God (at least in the text...) turns his attention toward Sodom and the evil people who live there. In a remarkable exchange, Abraham wants to know if there might yet be any "righteous" people in Sodom, and whether God intends to destroy them along with the evildoers. As it is rendered in the KJV (18:25), "That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked: and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee: Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?"

Abraham gets God to agree that if there are fifty righteous people in Sodom, he will spare the city. "But...what if there are only 45?" asks Abraham. God concedes that is close enough. "What if there are only 40?" God says, "Okay, for forty righteous people, I will spare the city," and so forth, on down to 10. (And now I want to ask Abraham, why did you stop at 10? What if there is only one righteous person in Sodom?)

Here's my question: how does God define "righteousness" at this point?

Just before the story of Abraham we have the story of Noah, where the Bible tells us that the entire world, save Noah, was so awful and wicked that every last human on earth had to be destroyed; and not only the humans, but all of the animals, except for a breeding pair of every kind, to be taken into the ark to start over.

I have a LOT of questions, of course. Like, what is the point, really, of killing off all the animals because of the wickedness of humanity? And, even if that were necessary, why can't God just start over with a new creation? And why does there have to be a natural disaster, a physical cause for the death of all life on the earth -- couldn't God just snap his fingers and presto! everybody's gone?

But all of that is secondary and trivial in the shadow of my larger question: how does God define "righteous" and "unrighteous" and "evil"?

There are no ten commandments. There's no torah. Certainly no Gospels. God has told people to "be fruitful and multiply," but that's about it. He has, so far as the Bible tells us thus far, not sent any prophets to teach or warn people. If God has not yet set forth laws and expectations and given humanity some frame of reference upon which to determine morality, then how does he condemn them as immoral? As so hopelessly evil that they have to be destroyed?

I'm probably missing the point. The Bible, I know well -- particularly this part of it -- cannot be read too literally, or you'll miss the forest for the trees, as I am almost certainly doing.

My guess, at this point, is that there is an assumption that even if it hasn't yet been written out on stone, God's law (which can be summed up as: love God, love your neighbor), was already written on the hearts of humanity. That humans came with at least a vague understanding that "God is good." That's how Abraham can question God's intention to destroy Sodom: "Surely the judge of all will not destroy the good with the wicked?"

I often think that the reason that there is so much emphasis on "Adam and Eve" and "creation" and "Sodom and Gomorrah" is because many people who set out to "read the Bible" start with page 1 and just keep going until they can't -- which I'm guessing is somewhere toward the end of Exodus, or somewhere in Leviticus, or certainly by Numbers. What starts as a series of really dramatic stories becomes an endless list of strange and repetitive regulations, many of which are irrelevant to modern life. So this is the part of the Bible with which they are most familiar (and also because the stories of Genesis and the patriarchs form the basis of a lot of early Sunday School education).

It's easy to get the idea from Genesis that God is easily angered and that the result is terrible destruction. I think this is why so many "casual Christians" buy easily into the notion that God sends plagues like HIV/AIDS to destroy the sexually immoral; in their limited understanding, it seems perfectly consonant with the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. And it's easy to understand why so many people turn away from Christianity altogether; if stories like the flood and Sodom and Gomorrah are what you know, then it seems in rather hopeless conflict with the idea that "God is good."

Just thinking out loud.

The Rock of our Salvation

2012-01-01T18:52:00.000-05:00

I was especially stressed out today. For some reason, I am always, always depressed on New Year's Day. No idea why, it just happens every time. This year the depression seemed also to manifest itself in a sort of short-tempered, uncharitable outlook on the world, and every time I wondered what was wrong with me for being so unreasonably mean-spirited it seemed I found a new reason to be angry with someone or something else.

Fortunately I had the presence of mind to deliberately take time to stop and break the cycle; to sit, close my eyes, and just focus on my breathing. No thoughts, just breathing.

Eventually a thought did come into my mind, but it was a pleasant one, so I let it stay...and that was to wonder whether God, who is so good and so full of love, ever maybe does get exasperated with us, if his patience ever wears thin, if he tires of hearing nothing but constant prayers of complaint from billions of people the world over, some of whom really, really need some serious help, but many others -- like myself -- can't ever seem to just be content with all the amazing blessings in their life, there's always something to want or to fear, something to be dissatisfied with. Does he ever get tired of my silly, self-centered prayers?

And then I saw in my mind the image of a small rock. Not a big boulder or heavy stone, just the sort of small rock you might find along the edge of any garden. And my mind seemed to be asking me if I thought this rock, small and unimpressive, ever got tired of being hard. Of course the answer was no, hardness is the rock's essential nature. It doesn't ever become soft and pliant from exhaustion of being hard, it takes no energy, it uses no resources to sustain its hardness. It's just hard.

God is the same way. God is good, God is love. It is his essential nature.

Food for Thought: Christmas Edition

2011-12-26T20:14:00.000-05:00

Does "the Christ" really need to be in "Christmas"?

Maybe that sounds like an absolutely idiotic question coming from a Christian person, but bear with me for a moment. This is, unfortunately, not a fully-fleshed out essay, just an idea/question I'm sitting/wrestling with for the moment.

Two of my absolute all-time favorite Christmas stories are It's a Wonderful Life and, of course, Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

Last night, for whatever reason, it suddenly occurred to me that I could not recall a single mention of "Jesus" in either story. So...off I went to the interwebs.

And...it's true. The text of A Christmas Carol does not mention Jesus even once; there is a single mention of Jesus at the very beginning of It's a Wonderful Life, in a voice-over prayer for George Bailey by Mr Martini.

Does this strike you as strange? It seemed astonishing to me. And then I went and checked Miracle on 34th Street and White Christmas: no mention.

So for an entire day I've been kind of preoccupied with this. Can these be considered "Christian" stories, however much they have to do with our modern conception of "Christmas," if they don't directly deal with the person of Jesus Christ?

Moments ago I had an answer/idea: well, none of the parables mention Jesus, either. Jesus told many, many stories to illustrate the nature of God and God's kingdom, and he never mentioned himself by name in these stories and, in some of them, I believe, he doesn't even appear, at least not as a character in the drama.

So, then, despite the lack of explicit reference to Jesus, these are, nonetheless, Christian stories, because they definitely are parables. And now I feel better. Maybe I will have more to say later.

God's Promises & Our Expectations

2011-12-20T11:34:00.008-05:00

Luke 1:26-38

The Gospel appointed for the Fourth Sunday of Advent this year* (Lectionary Year B) was Luke's tale of the Annunciation, the Archangel Gabriel's visit to young Mary to announce that she will conceive a child by the Holy Spirit.

Last night I was talking to a friend who attends a different parish, which had their Christmas pageant this past Sunday. It was a hilarious story of confused children and general chaos; things definitely did not go as expected. "It was a complete zoo," he remarked, and then both of us suddenly remembered that Jesus was born in a barn in the middle of the night, and decided that probably hadn't been exactly what Mary had envisioned, either.

This set me to thinking about Gabriel's announcement. The angel tells Mary that her son "will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."

What must Mary have imagined that would look like?

I'll bet, as she knelt and said, wonderfully, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord," that it never occurred to her that nine months later, after having endured a long, arduous journey in the last days of her pregnancy, she wouldn't even be able to give birth in a house, but out in the stable, surrounded by animals, and they'd have to sleep outside. Could she have imagined having to put her newborn into a trough for his first cradle? What must that have been like for her faith? Did she say to herself, as she reclined or squatted in the hay and the mud among the stalls, "Oh, who cares, I'm giving birth to the Savior!" or, perhaps, did she feel a sense of frustration and resentment? "The angel didn't say anything about this!"

Did it give her pause? I suppose the fact that she got pregnant while still a virgin gave her sufficient proof that God was at work in her life in a pretty spectacular way, but she must have wondered why God would want or even allow the future king of Israel to be born in such inconvenient and somewhat shameful circumstances; as St Ambrose wrote in his famous Advent hymn, "Marvel now, both Heaven and Earth, that the Lord chose such a birth." Did she perhaps think maybe she was entitled to a slightly easier time of it, having agreed to carry God's son in her womb for nine months? The Gospel of Matthew tells us that for a time Joseph considered divorcing her, and we can only imagine what the reaction from her family and friends might have been. Did they lie and say the child was Joseph's? Or did she say, "No, an angel visited me and told me I would become pregnant by the Holy Spirit, and, voila!" Would her friends and family have believed her? It was probably a very difficult time, and now, after putting up with all that, here she is in the mud, in the cold, no comfortable place to lie down, no place to wash up. Ugh.

"The Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever."

How did Mary imagine herself, as mother of the king? Did she envision Israel free from its Roman occupiers, free from the corrupt, violent, illegitimate Herodian rulers? Did she see herself living in a palace -- in Jerusalem, or maybe on the coast? Did she imagine a future life of peace and prosperity, with her son reigning into his old age, the father of an unbroken dynasty of Davidic kings? In her darker, weaker, frustrated moments did she say to herself, "Someday, you'll be in the palace"?

Instead, she got a son who was, certainly, wonderful in many ways, but must also have been a source of worry and frustration. He just sort of wandered around, and while he was a great teacher and healer, he didn't seem to be getting himself ready for the promised kingship. As the years wore on it must have gotten harder and harder to imagine that Israel would ever be free from the Romans. Every popular revolt against them was mercilessly and bloodily crushed. How was her son who was maybe in Capernaum today, maybe in Samaria, maybe in Bethany, going to end up being chosen king? No one even knew who he was. Was he somehow going to figure out how to lead an army into Jerusalem? His friends certainly weren't going to be much help; a couple of fishermen, a former tax collector and others of uncertain backgrounds. Bunch of slackers, all of them -- heck, James and John actually left their father in the boat and went and followed Jesus around the countryside.

The one time he did come home to visit, he went into the synagogue and told the assembly that he was the fulfillment of Isaiah's prophecy; the villagers were so outraged they nearly pushed him off a cliff and chased him out of town. Mary and her other children went to go see Jesus where he was teaching, and when told that his mother, brothers and sisters were here, he could only say, "Who is my mother? Who are my brothers and sisters?"

"Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God."

Well, he has a funny way of showing it.

And then came the end, suddenly, out of nowhere. One day you hear a rumor that he's headed for Jerusalem, and then a message -- maybe a friend or relative, maybe one of the apostles. "Jesus was arrested late last night and taken to Pilate."

That could only mean one thing.

There was no habeas corpus, no bill of rights. Commentators over the centuries have marveled, like Pilate himself, that Jesus didn't seem to want to say much in his defense. But truly, what could he have said that would matter? It was a show trial, a pretense of justice. No appeals. No right to a jury, no attorney. And by the next afternoon, he was dead.

And not just dead; arrested in the dark of night, dragged before the officials and an angry mob, summarily condemned and then beaten, viciously. Flogged. A crown of thorns mashed onto his head. Spit on, hit with reeds and poles. Forced to carry the instrument of his own execution through the city streets. His friends, terrified for their lives, had mostly abandoned him.

But there, on that gory hill, was John, Mary Magdalene, perhaps a couple of other women (the Gospels have different accounts), and his mother. There they watched him stripped and nailed - nailed! - to a cross, where he hung for a few hours among criminals, and then he died.

"He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob for ever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."

One of the most famous recurring images in religious art is the Pieta, depictions of a grieving Mary holding the body of her son after he has been taken down from the cross.

What must she have thought?

Had she misunderstood? This was not what she was promised. Had God been defeated? Had God deceived her? "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God." How? How is this favor? He's dead! He's not king. Far from assuming the throne of David in a liberated Israel, he was brutally murdered by its occupiers and Jewish collaborators. He's dead. It's over.

"My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior." How empty and bitter the remembrance of those words must have seemed. "All generations will call me blessed." Ha.

But we, on the other side of Easter, know that Gabriel's announcement and God's promise were true. In this last week of Advent, we recite or chant or sing the Magnificat every day: "For he has remembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our fathers, to Abraham and his children for ever."

Many of the appointed lessons in the Advent season are apocalyptic in tone; as we prepare for the celebration of Christ's first coming into the world, we anticipate the second, and we imagine what the coming reign of glory will look like.

If Mary's experience is any guide, we haven't got a clue.

* Turns out it is also the Gospel appointed for today in the daily lectionary! Because the Sunday cycle is three years and the daily cycle is two years, it only happens once every six years that this passage will be appointed twice for the same week.

Eve of Advent IV...or VII...

2011-12-17T22:28:00.001-05:00

I'm not terribly proud of the earlier post this week on the parable of the talents. I think I'm "on" to something there, but I don't feel at all confident that I articulated it well, let alone proved my case. I wish that I had had more time to work on it, but there's so much going on this Advent season. It wasn't my best writing, and I'm out of practice. Recently I have also found that my extemporaneous speaking is not what it used to be, and I think there's a connection: I need to write more to practice training my thoughts to be both succinct and eloquent, and also, frankly, to "rehearse" talking points. I used to be better at this. May I find more time and energy to devote to this in the new year.

Today, however, was a special day. Today really felt like Advent. Come, Lord Jesus.

The Parable of the Capitalist Jerk

2011-12-16T15:00:00.000-05:00

Matthew 25:14-30

The Gospel appointed for today is the "parable of the talents," the story of the rich man who went on a journey and left some of his money with his servants. To one he gave five "talents," to another two, and to a third just one.

I feel like most explanations say that the master is Jesus, who has blessed each of us with certain "talents" (though we don't all get the same talents, in the same quantities), and expects us to do something with that treasure. We will have to give an account to Jesus/the master when he returns of what we did with the "talents" he gave us. According to this interpretation, it's pretty clear from the end of the story that we are expected to do something with those gifts. The story shows up in the lectionary in Advent season, and following as it does immediately on the heels of the story of the wise and foolish maidens waiting for the bridegroom, sounds like it is alluding to the second coming and the judgment.

But I just don't see how that can possibly be.

Here's how the story unfolds: the first two servants take the money (five and two talents, respectively) and invest it, doubling the initial amount. When the master returns, he praises them ("Well done, good and faithful servant!") and says, "You have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master."

The third servant simply returns the original talent, having buried it in the earth, and then rather brazenly says, "I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours."

The master furiously responds, "You wicked and lazy slave! You knew, did you, that I reap where I did not sow, and gather where I did not scatter? Then you ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest." The master takes the talent back and gives it to the first servant (so that he now has eleven, total) and then dismissing him as "worthless," orders that he be thrown "into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."

Where is Jesus in this parable? Frankly, I don't think he's in it at all.

The story is also told in Luke (19:11-27), and I think there are several clues that reinforce the suggestion that this "master" is the furthest thing from Jesus. Luke says that the reason Jesus tells them the story is "because [the people] supposed that the kingdom of God was to appear immediately." This time, rather than "a man going on a journey," Luke is specific that the master is "a nobleman [who] went to a distant country to get royal power for himself."

Again, it seems that the easy allusion here is to Jesus, who has "gone on a journey," so to speak (or is, at least, not physically present with us as he was with the disciples) and will return crowned as the King of Heaven. But I am uncomfortable with Luke's actual language here: "to get royal power for himself." Jesus, who is and who was and who is to come, was always the king; hence the magi who bowed before the child and presented royal gifts. Jesus did not have to die and "go away" in order to claim his kingship; he doesn't have to "get" royal power. And does he do this for himself?

I don't think Luke prefaces the parable meaning to explain that the kingdom of God is not near because the master still has to go on his journey, so listen up to what y'all are supposed to do with the "talents" he's going to give you. I think he sets it up this way precisely to illustrate that the Kingdom of God is not near because this is the sort of story that is happening right now, all around us. Luke and Matthew are saying that the kingdom and our relationship with God will be very, very different than the master/servant paradigm to which we are accustomed.

Here's the test for me in this story: let's say the third servant had taken that talent and used it to buy food for hungry people. What do you think this master's response would be?

Is Jesus a harsh man, reaping what he does not sow and gathering what he doesn't plant? And wherefore is this slave "wicked"? Wicked? Which commandment has he violated? What sin has he committed? What law has he broken?

"You ought to have invested my money with the bankers, and on my return I would have received what was my own with interest!" says the master. Do you know, in the KJV, instead of "interest" it says "with usury"? I would have received what was my own, plus what was not. That is exactly what the servant is saying: you make money from money. You don't make anything, you don't plant anything, you don't do anything for anyone, you just put your money in the bank -- or have people do it for you -- and you get more money. After all Jesus has told them during his ministry: sell all your possessions and give to the poor, it's easier for a camel to go through the eye of the needle, blessed is the widow who donated two cents because it was all she had, pass out free food to five thousand people, take people you find lying by the side of the road and pay for their lodging and medical expenses...all of that, and now suddenly Jesus is warning us that come judgment day, he will be mighty pissed off if we haven't wisely invested his money?

I think our discomfort with what seems like a cognitive dissonance has caused us to read this story metaphorically, that Jesus is not really talking about "money," he's talking about "talents." Do something with the "talents" God gave you. But this story is, emphatically, about money. A story can have multiple layers of meaning and can make sense literally and metaphorically, but if you have to read it metaphorically because the literal reading is nonsensical, then something is wrong.

What's "wrong," what does not make sense, is Jesus as this particular master. "For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away."

This is not the Kingdom of God, this is the world we live in right now. This is not an illustration of what is to come, this is a scathing indictment of what is already wrong. It is a parable right out of Occupy Wall Street.

The Length of Advent

2011-12-05T12:21:00.000-05:00

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 4

ADVENT 5

The sign at the entrance to my suburban Episcopal parish might well have puzzled visitors. Advent 5? There are only four Sundays in Advent...and three more weeks to go until Christmas. What gives?

Advent, for readers not cued in to the liturgical tradition, is the first "season" of the Christian year; for most Christians, Advent begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas Day. It is a time of introspection, waiting and preparation. As "Retail Christmas" now starts earlier and earlier and becomes an increasingly cheap orgy of gaudy materialism having essentially nothing to do with Jesus at all, Christians are finding renewed meaning in Advent. The Christmas "season" in American culture, which begins to appear in stores by mid-November at the latest and explodes on Thanksgiving weekend in a flurry of print and TV ads and the media frenzy of "Black Friday" shopping, has become an extended period of stress and chaos, so that by December 25 we are exhausted and bored and sick of it all.

The frustration with the way Christmas has been robbed of its joy and beauty and co-opted for the glory of the Dollar Almighty (and become a tedious culture-war touchstone for the fundamentalists) has led many Christians to reconnect with the traditions of Advent, and some are advocating expanding the season to seven Sundays instead of four. The Eastern Orthodox Church has long celebrated Advent for the 40 days prior to Christmas, just as Lent is the 40 days prior to Easter. Our parish is one of several around the country experimenting with a longer Advent this year.

I was skeptical at first, but my priest is a very wise (and liturgically generally very conservative) man and I wanted to be open-minded; I also believe the church does itself no favors with blind adherence to tradition. In explaining his decision to give this a try, the priest pointed out that the lectionary (the three-year cycle of Bible lessons appointed for Sunday worship) already begins pointing to Advent themes in November, and gave voice to the kind of inchoate general Christian sense of helplessness in the face of Retail Christmas by making a bigger deal out of Advent.

Without heading off into a complicated tangent about the Christian calendar (which I could easily, passionately do), let me just point out that the calendar is meant to be cyclical, not linear. We don't "number" our years, and we don't celebrate a "New Year's Eve" when Pentecost passes into Advent again. In figuring out that "lectionary" system for appointed readings for various holidays and seasons of the Christian year, the ancient church drew a parallel between the coming of Christ into the world as a newborn at Christmas and the anticipated second coming at the end of time. And so, while it may seem ironic and incongruous in the weeks leading up to Christmas at the beginning of the year, the worship directs our attention to the End.

This was the angle that most piqued my interest; not only am I in favor of Christians standing up and telling the world to slow the heck down before Christmas because they are really missing the point, the crazy eschatology (theology of the "end times") of some of our fundamentalist brethren has so dominated the popular imagination that the orthodox understanding of the Second Coming has been almost entirely eclipsed. Complicated timelines and checklists for identifying "the Antichrist" and predicting the Second Coming are so common that even wild-eyed crackpots like Harold Camping can make international news by predicting -- as he did twice this year -- the "precise" date of the End of the World. (He was, not surprisingly, wrong both times, and made himself and every other Christian look like fools in the process.) So, yes: the mainline churches standing up to counter the perversions of fundamentalist eschatology and reclaim Christmas from Wall Street? Count me in!

In practice, however, this experiment has been disappointing. I think, frankly, that my beloved priest overestimated the cultural impact of bringing out the blue altar cloths three weeks early.

Instead of feeling like a counter-action to the ever-earlier creep of Retail Christmas, starting Advent early seemed like surrender. And while we dutifully sang the traditional Advent hymns like, "Sleepers, Wake!" and read the appointed lessons full of warning, that seemed all we were able to muster. Granted, we still have two Sundays of Advent left so maybe I should not throw the manger out with the four-candle Advent wreath, but so far this process has not deepened in me a greater awareness of or appreciation for eschatology or supported my interest in a truly counter-cultural Advent. We have had no fiery sermons on the end-times texts or passionate calls to resist secular culture's idea of Christmas. We've not had any meaningful parish activities to further either goal. It's been Advent just like every other year, except longer. And no wreath.

Ultimately, I don't think I'm going to come down on one side or another as to how long Advent should be. The folks who support an expanded Advent have the right idea, and I am completely, totally and utterly in favor of making a much bigger deal out of Advent. But I'm also afraid my initial misgivings were correct: if you want to do Advent better, you have to really do it better, not just longer.

Bringing Down the House

2011-10-11T21:05:00.000-04:00

The first opera I ever saw was Camille Saint-Saëns' Samson et Dalila. I was 16 and just starting to take voice lessons, with no interest or view at all to taking on opera as a potential career. I just thought maybe I should go hear what "real" singing sounded like, and figured this one was safe because even though I didn't speak French (and this was pre-supertitles), I knew the basic story.

I was transfixed.

The real Samson saga, however, as told in the book of Judges, is pretty appalling. Samson strikes me as a thoroughly unlikeable person. Maybe it's because he took three hundred foxes, tied them two-by-two, tail-to-tail, set them on fire and sent them running through the Philistines' crops. (15:4-6) That, and he was a philandering mass-murderer.

For no apparent reason the other day I found myself thinking about him.

We all know how his story ends; seduced and betrayed by the Philistine woman Delilah, Samson is captured, blinded, shorn of his hair (the secret source of his strength) and chained up between two columns in the pagan temple to be mocked and abused by his captors. After a final prayer, he regains his strength, pushes against the pillars, collapsing the temple on himself and the Philistines.

It is awfully hard to reconcile ugly stories like this with the God who sent us Jesus who taught us to love our enemies, pray for those who persecute us, turn the other cheek, etc. What to make of this passage? Does God sometimes show His love and righteousness by empowering people to a mass-murder/suicide?

Then that still, small voice asked me to step back a pace from the details of this story and see it in more symbolic terms. Samson at this point is a deeply troubled, broken, penitent person. Despite his many failings, it remains that he himself has been betrayed by someone he trusted, tortured and humiliated. Robbed of his strength (literally), he turns to God. Now we may not like much what happens next in the story; it certainly fills me with discomfort. But what I began to understand in my meditation was that Samson didn't just casually lean against the columns and with a gentle nudge knock them over, though that might have been the case in his earlier days. No, in great pain, using every last fiber of his strength, both mental and physical, battling his own certain fear of ugly, imminent death and straining against his limitations, he did the unthinkable: with his bare hands he brought down a building.

The lesson, I think, is not that God empowers us in our desperation to commit awful crimes as long as the intended victims are judged even less worthy than ourselves. I think what we are to take away here is that when we are at our absolute nadir of weakness, God gives us the strength that is necessary, not so that things are easy, but merely so they are possible.

Argh and stuff

2011-09-22T16:21:00.000-04:00

I thought this would be easier - maybe just logging on for even ten minutes every couple of days and jotting something down. I am still pretty disciplined in my prayer life, but especially after a full work day trying to fit in some exercise, 30-45 minutes (or an hour, sometimes...) for keeping the Office, not to mention running errands, doing chores, keeping up with my volunteer commitments and also attempting to have something resembling a life, it is hard to fit in time to sit and be intentional in this way.

Maybe I should try harder, though. I am feeling very confused right now. Argh.

Proper 11, Saturday, Year 1

2011-07-23T21:39:00.000-04:00

The image above was taken tonight with my iPhone as the brilliant mid-summer sunset light streamed through the blinds in the kitchen and struck this icon in this rather unique way...what comes to mind is the Phos hilaron, one of the most ancient hymns of the church, traditionally sung/recited at the beginning of vespers or evening prayer:

O gracious Light,
pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven,
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!

Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O Giver of life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.

Today was interesting. I am the chair of the board of directors of the Oregon chapter of the Episcopal Church's outreach ministry to GLBT people, and today we had a much needed, long overdue board retreat. It wasn't a full-on retreat in the best sense of the word, but we spent a good six hours sequestered away in the basement of a suburban parish working out together what we think our mission is going to be in the coming year and some concrete strategies for doing that. It was a very inspiring afternoon. It's a really incredible, interesting, diverse group of people that God has brought together for this special ministry in this time and place. O God, you manifest in your servants the signs of your presence, says the BCP in one of the collects for mission at evening prayer.

The lectionary for today was interesting, as well.

The Saul-David-Solomon saga is only read during the season after Pentecost in Year 1, so once every other year. Yesterday's lesson, the last chapter of 1 Samuel, told of the deaths of Saul and his sons. Today, with the beginning of 2 Samuel, David is given the tragic news, and tomorrow he will sing "The Song of the Bow," his epic lament, in which he proclaims that his love for Jonathan surpassed his love for women. I find that a hard verse for the fundies to explain away; try as they might to dismiss it as poetic hyperbole, don't you agree that it's a very strange choice of words, of all the possible ways he might find to describe his friendship with Jonathan? "I love you more than I love women...no homo!" just doesn't seem to be credible...

Sigh...there's more I could say, but it was a long day with full on mental investment, and I'm fried. So I'll just leave it there. : )

Proper 11, Thursday, Year 1

2011-07-21T23:04:00.001-04:00

Mark 5:1-20

I have vague memories from Sunday school at the Lutheran Church where I was brought up of a video of the story of the demons that were cast into the herd of swine; I remember the image of pigs tumbling down an embankment into water, and I remember thinking that was pretty hilarious and strange.

Today, however, I find this story one of the most beautiful, moving, compassionate and terrifying segments in all of the Gospels.

So, last we talked about Jesus, he and the disciples were crossing the Sea of Galilee when a terrible storm arose and threatened to sink the boat and drown the passengers. Jesus calmed the winds and the waves, and the disciples were terrified.

Now they come at last to the far shore, and immediately they encounter a naked lunatic. This has to be one of the scariest images in the Bible, especially in the New Testament (outside of the Revelation): a naked man who lives in the hills among the tombs, howling incoherently, so violent and strong that he cannot even be chained down, for he rips the fetters apart, and he cuts himself with stones.

Do you believe in demonic possession?

For my part...yes, at least I think so. But there is also the reality of mental illness, and I think it's entirely possible that conditions which are diagnosable today would have been inscrutable in the first century and, not unreasonably, attributed to demons. Today I think maybe the opposite is true, that possession is often considered merely mental illness. I do not think they are the same thing, but they probably share many external characteristics.

My heart breaks reading about this man. For some reason, the image I have is of a young, strong adult who, if he weren't filthy and deranged, would be considered exceedingly attractive. He's bright, he's sensitive, and he's deeply troubled. He cuts himself with stones! And people are frightened by him.

I certainly get that. Having lived in Manhattan for many years, and now back in Portland which has a famously large street population, I've certainly beheld many people suffering from mental illness, and it can be very scary; it's that level of unpredictability and the knowledge/fear that you can't necessarily reason with them.

For me, the most terrifying part is when Jesus asks "the unclean spirit" what his name is, and the response comes, "My name is Legion; for we are many." It's the stuff of cheap horror movies, and yet I just...I can't quite articulate it. I really believe it. It raises the hair on my neck.

There is also a very deliberate political subversion happening here. A "legion," of course, was the basic unit of the Roman military; Rome was the violent occupier of Palestine and the empire that murdered the Christ. Scholars tend to think that the author of "Mark," whatever his (her?) name really was, was a follower of Peter (also murdered by Romans, in Rome), and the Gospel may even have been written in Rome. This is loaded and rich language, associating the demonic possession of a human with political and military occupation.

So, the demons negotiate a deal with Jesus to be cast into the swine, the herd of pigs leap into the sea and drown, and the man becomes his old self again.

Then what happens? Then people came to see what it was that had happened....and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion; and they were afraid.

Once again, we are shown how people witness the healing and saving power of God in spectacular fashion, and their response is not joy or comfort, but fear.

Proper 11, Wednesday, Year 1 - Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, Sojourner Truth & Harriet Ross Tubman

2011-07-20T16:18:00.001-04:00

Mark 4:35-41

Alas, I don't have much to say about the amazing women who are remembered in the calendar today, other than just how proud I am to be part of a church that recognizes their contributions to our modern world and honors them with a regular religious observance.

Instead, I have another reflection on the value of reading multiple translations of the Bible. Today's Gospel passage is the familiar story, found in all three synoptic Gospels, of Jesus and the disciples crossing the Sea of Galilee in a boat, only to have a terrible storm arise, threatening to swamp the boat and drown them. Jesus is asleep in the back of the boat, and the apostles wake him in terror and cry, "Do you not care that we are perishing?"

Jesus "rebukes" the wind and says to the sea, "Peace, be still." The wind dies down and the sea becomes calm, and Jesus says, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

The reader, of course, has the benefit of knowing who it is in the boat with them and, also, of not being in a small, fragile craft in the middle of a tempest. It's easy for us to scoff and think, "Pfft, they were with Jesus, really...what did they think could happen?"

But from their perspective, they were on the verge of imminent and unpleasant death, and their leader was not only not concerned or trying to help, he was asleep. It's not so strange that they were panicking.

The lesson for us is that Jesus asks us to trust that even now, right now, Jesus is in that boat with us. And yet, do we live our lives like that? How many of us have confidence to weather the storms, as the metaphor goes, without anxiety? That's hard, because to us it often does seem that perhaps Jesus is asleep or not paying attention; we need help, we want assurance of safety, and we want it right now. The Bible asks us to believe that we do have it, right now and always. "Have you still no faith?"

Note, however, the disciples' collective response to this miracle.

The King James Version has Jesus ask, "Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?"

And they feared exceedingly, and said one to another, What manner of man is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?

Beautiful. Why are ye so fearful?....And they feared exceedingly. So typical, right? It doesn't seem to matter how often God comes to our rescue in life, or how spectacularly obvious the intervention is, we cling to our fear. In this case, the miracle not only didn't inspire faith and confidence in the disciples, they became more afraid.

The language here matters, and this seems to be yet another occasion when the KJV, for all its shortcomings, strikes closer to the original Greek, which can be translated, "And they feared a great fear." "Fear" is the important word, we are to note that "fear" is the response to "why are you afraid"?

The NRSV, however, phrases it, "And they were filled with great awe." No!

I understand the editors' desire in many places to use "awe" instead of "fear" because this common phrase "fear of the Lord" doesn't make much sense in the context of God's repeated invitation, "Fear not." Awe, not fear, is the appropriate response in the presence of the Divine.

But the disciples do not respond appropriately; they are not filled with holy awe at the miracle they have just seen, they are filled with fear. That matters for the meaning of the story.

Proper 11, Tuesday, Year 1 - St Macrina

2011-07-19T22:16:00.002-04:00

1 Samuel 25:1-22

I have mentioned before that for this two-year lectionary cycle I am studying with the King James Version. This evening I was reading along, following a typically awful Old Testament-style story of betrayal and bloodshed in 1 Samuel (the chapter which begins, by the way, with the death of Samuel...even though there are five more chapters to go, plus 2nd Samuel) but was taken aback when I got to the last verse of the lesson where David is praying to God for assistance in avenging an insult by slaughtering a bunch of innocent people, vowing by morning to have killed "any that pisseth against the wall."

Come again? LOL.

Curious, I turned to the other translations on my shelf (the NRSV, the NIV and the NKJV), all of which instead simply (and preferably...) refer to "men" or "males."

I Googled the phrase, and while admitting it's not like I spent hours of research on this, it does appear that in fact the King James has the more literal rendering of a Hebrew idiom for "men." (The phrase "that pisseth against the wall" appears in the KJV a second time in 1 Samuel 25, and in four verses of 1 & 2 Kings.)

But what really blew my mind was a video that came up of a Baptist pastor citing these verses to insist that God wants men to pee standing up. I won't link to it, you can find it yourself, if you're of a mind.

He relates a story about visiting Germany and seeing signs over toilets asking men not to pee standing up, and, explaining that his wife is German, he asked her, "Is this a joke?" and she apparently said, "No man in Germany pees standing up." "That's where we're headed in this country," says Pastor Steven L. Anderson.

Where to start?

I lived in Switzerland for a year and have visited Germany a couple of times. I lived in a university dorm in Zurich and, yes, there were signs over the toilets in the restrooms saying that peeing standing up was verboten. Now, this isn't because Switzerland has been taken over by anti-Christian feminist zealots, it's because, well, some men have really terrible aim, and no one likes to have to wipe someone else's pee off a toilet seat before using it. Duh. It's called etiquette.

But the idea that there is some sort of Teutonic cultural prohibition against urinating in a vertical position on principle is ridiculous. Any public restroom -- especially in train stations, etc -- will have urinals. In fact, in Switzerland, where the German dialects are sprinkled with French words, the common name for a men's restroom is a pissoir, where there's not a toilet in sight, and not even individual urinals, but just one long porcelain wall (!!!) with a drain at the bottom.

Moreover, "Sitzpinkler" -- which literally means "one who sits to pee" -- is a very common German derogatory word for a less-than-manly man, specifically one who can't stand up for himself.

Anyway, this has nothing to do with poor St Macrina, whose feast unhappily coincides this year with this particular lesson, and who deserves a better post.

Pastor Anderson goes on to caution his listeners against judging him for using bad language by arguing that this word "pisseth" comes directly from the mouth of God, via the Bible. He rails against other translations, including the New King James, for rendering the euphemism as "males" instead of keeping the word-for-word idiom, and cites this as evidence of the extent to which anti-Christian feminizing political correctness has infested even the church itself, in what basically amounts to a xenophobic, sexist, homophobic rant where a holy concept of "masculinity" can be so narrowly defined as to require certain orthodox, patriotic postures for peeing.

I lament that this is the sort of sermon that gets regularly posted to YouTube, and this is what has the potential to go viral. When I think of the hundreds or even thousands of thoughtful sermons that must be given in all kinds of churches every Sunday, to think this is the sort of pathetic nonsense that will form or reaffirm some people's ideas about Christianity and the Bible, I am filled with anger and despair.

Ezekiel Goes to a Funeral

2011-07-17T19:55:00.002-04:00

So that post on Psalm 51 I've been kicking around in my head never got written. Another time, maybe.

The Gospel lesson appointed for the Office today (Matthew 25:14-30, Proper 11, Year 1) is the Parable of the Talents, where the guy goes off and leaves three of his servants with various amounts of money, each according to their abilities, and when he comes back he is full of praise for the two who invested the money and made interest, and furious with the one who buried it in the dirt and returned the original amount. That's another passage I just don't really get. Something really troubles me about the third servant, who accuses the lord of being 'harsh' and reaping what he hadn't sown and gathering what he had not planted, and the vitriolic response of the master -- "You wicked and lazy slave" -- seems to indicate that maybe he was on to something. I Googled the parable and looked for commentaries to help, but it seems the consensus really is that the traveling master is understood to represent Christ and that the third servant is duly punished for not doing something with the gift he was given. It still doesn't sit right with me, though, and I am unsatisfied. So that's all I can say about that.

This afternoon I went to the funeral of a beloved teacher from high school, who had also been a good friend and colleague of my parents. The funeral was at a Foursquare church, where apparently he was very active, and within the confines of my own ignorance and prejudice and snobbishness I am still trying to reconcile the memories I have of this very free-thinking, well-educated, objective, progressive person (who gave no hint that I ever picked up on that he was remotely spiritual) with the discovery that he was active in a Pentecostal community.

I confess to some ambivalence about going, not really sure what the worship experience would be like there, and wondering what kind of strange ideas, cheap theology and corny music I might hear. I thought fondly of Ouiser in Steel Magnolias, who declines to visit Annelle's church because "they'd probably make me eat a live chicken," to which Annelle responds, "Not on your first visit." But my mother needed to go, and I was more than willing, out of respect for this great man.

Well, it definitely wasn't an Anglican rite. But as the pastor got up to speak about the importance of community and God's healing power even and especially in times of great pain and bewilderment, I just had this sense that we really were talking about the same God. And then, suddenly, I heard that "still, small voice," and what came into my mind was a phrase from Ezekiel: "I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh," and I cried through the rest of the service.

St Elizabeth of Portugal

2011-07-08T20:22:00.002-04:00

OK, so here's another observance not in the Episcopalians' calendar.

However, unlike Thomas More, I had never before heard of St Elizabeth. How did she make it on to my blog?

This evening I felt a real desire to have evening prayer; whereas I have been feeling fairly disinterested and passionless, even sometimes thinking of the office as a chore, tonight I really felt called to enter into intentional meditation. We are right in the middle of a two-week period nearly unbroken by the observance of any special feast, with the exception of St Benedict of Nursia coming up on Monday. My own made-up discipline calls for music and incense only on feast days, and I was missing that particular vehicle for creating a sense of the immanence of the divine. So I decided to look to the list of proposed new feasts for the calendar (to be approved next year), but nothing for today.

Then I turned to my copy of the 1962 Roman Missal (one of my favorite resources), and saw that the appointed feast in the Catholic tradition is St Elizabeth. "Well, that's odd," I thought, since I was pretty sure that St Elizabeth is in our calendar, too. I turned to Lesser Feasts & Fasts and saw that, yes, St Elizabeth of Hungary is venerated on November 21. So I went back to the Missal for a closer look: ah, this is Elizabeth of Portugal, who was named for her great aunt, Elizabeth of Hungary. "Neat," I thought. As I read further, I saw that, after she was widowed, the queen took the veil and entered the order of the Poor Clares, the Franciscan order for women founded by St Clare of Assisi. That would be the same St Clare of Assisi whose prayer book I am using this week. Whoa.

After all this, I decided I didn't really want to bother with music and incense, so I just settled in and began. The texts were wonderful; I'll touch on them below. But the really weird thing? The "prayer of the saints" in the St Clare Prayer Book for Friday evening was written by...Elizabeth of Hungary. (Cue Twilight Zone music.) Chills.

I have had similar experiences before, when saints just sort of randomly decided to reach out of the ether and catch my attention. I will spend some more time this evening meditating on why I think this happened tonight. It is interesting; before I began evening prayer I remember thinking, I'm so tired of my prayer discipline becoming so rote, I need one of those rare spiritual experiences that keep me coming back. And, voila.

So let's talk about those texts. One of the interesting things about this St Clare Prayer Book is that each section of morning and evening prayer for a seven-day week opens with a form of confession using a portion of Psalm 51, the first half of the psalm for the morning, and the first verse followed by the second half in the evening. I had thought maybe this would be the focus for tonight's meditation, but then the whole double-Elizabeth thing came up and so I've put that off, maybe for tomorrow.

Each section also opens with a brief Gospel sentence, to help us focus our intentions on the given theme for the day. This morning's Gospel sentence ("No one can be the slave of two masters; he will either hate the first and love the second, or be attached to the first and despise the second," Matthew 6:24) was actually taken from the selected Gospel passage for tonight (Matthew 6:22-27), which I don't think happens anywhere else in the book.

The Franciscans, of course, were devoted to holy vocational poverty; that is, they chose it. They rejected the idea of possessions (Francis himself is said to have asked to be allowed to die naked so that he could leave this world possessing absolutely nothing at all, but the brothers persuaded him instead, for modesty's sake, to borrow a brother's habit, and St Clare's rules for her order were initially rejected by the pope for being too severe), and so this theme of the corrupting power of wealth and materialism is naturally recurring in this prayer book.

The idea is not so much to suffer poverty for God's sake, but to embrace poverty in an exercise of trust that God will provide all you really need. In the context of tonight's Gospel reading, that opening sentence from this morning is immediately followed by, "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?" This is a core principle of Franciscan life.

Of course, Christians throughout history have found this a difficult, even impossible challenge to accept. Fear and doubt keep us worrying about all kinds of things, and hold us hostage. One of the most salient critiques of the biblical literalists is that hardly any of them even acknowledge, let alone obey, Christ's requirement that to follow him we must sell everything we own and give the money to the poor. I freely acknowledge my own fears on this point, which is why I feel it is important for me to come back frequently to St Francis, and confess my failures.

Where I have come in this process is a belief that truthfully I possess nothing. Everything belongs to God, but some things have been entrusted to me, for my benefit and use. However, I should always be mindful that nothing is mine and I should always be willing to part with anything I have for the sake of someone else who needs it. It's not quite living fully into the Gospel life, but it's as far as my fears allow me to go right now.

And so, back to Elizabeth of Portugal. She had an illustrious pedigree, great-great-granddaughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I (also known as Red-Beard or "Barbarossa"), and became Queen of Portugal at the tender age of 12. Widowed at 54, she left the royal life and entered a convent, where she lived in voluntary poverty for eleven years, until her death.

This really speaks to me. I am always thinking about money, how my life might be easier or better or more interesting if I had more money. I think God asks us to accept that this is an illusion. A while back I was told I was being promoted and given a significant raise, but then one thing led to another and it all fell through the cracks. For many months I was just angry thinking about the money I should have been making. Eventually it worked itself out and I got my raise and, well, truthfully, I am no happier or less fearful than I was before the raise.

Maybe Less Discipline is Good Discipline

2011-07-07T12:27:00.000-04:00

Oh, dear, I have really fallen off the disciplinary wagon.

I attempted to write something last week for the Feast of Saints Peter & Paul, one of my favorites, but it was rambling and obvious, so it has been condemned to the purgatory of "drafts" and will no doubt remain there.

I might have had something to say yesterday commemorating the death of Thomas More, who was executed by Henry VIII for exercising his conscience and refusing to support the political separation of the Church of England from Rome. He is venerated as a martyr by the Roman church on June 22 (unclear why) and by the Church of England on July 6, the anniversary of his execution. Though the Episcopal Church in the United States is busily adding to the calendar what seems to be hundreds of people small and great who in some noteworthy way or other played a role in church history, Sir Thomas has yet to be nominated, an omission I find very strange in the context of new additions such as John Calvin. So although there is no official Episcopalian observance for Thomas More, I write him into the calendar myself and keep the day by watching the classic film A Man for All Seasons. (One week earlier I kept Saints Peter & Paul by watching the extraordinary Quo Vadis, which is campy and overwrought but magnificent). (For the record, I also write in my own observances for Gandhi and the Buddha, whom I am certain were saints who in fact preached the Gospel, even if not in the name of Christ.)

In general, my "daily office" discipline has been pretty weak. I think it's less about the health of my faith life than it is a symptom or symbol of my general state lately: I'm tired. I've worked incredibly hard the last few months both professionally and on volunteer projects, and I am needing a break from responsibility and commitments, more flexibility, more fun and more me-centered time.

For these two weeks in July, I have even set aside the BCP completely as there are no feasts in the calendar to observe. Instead, I have two Franciscan prayer books, one focusing on St Clare and another on Francis himself, which each contain a week's worth of morning and evening prayer liturgies. They are shorter and simpler than what I normally do, but I think that's a good boundary to stretch, as well. I use the readings provided therein, which are chosen for thematic relevance, rather than keeping the lectionary.

Even though the simplified liturgy means I can get through the office in 10 or 15 minutes, rather then 30-45, I'm still finding the structure burdensome, though I trust it is beneficial. My mind seems permanently elsewhere. I am reading, but not comprehending, looking, but not seeing.

This isn't to say that I'm not thinking about God these days. I am, and quite frequently. I am feeling rather unsettled -- or, perhaps, too settled -- and it reminds me of how I was feeling about five years ago back in New York when I had this great sense that what I was doing wasn't working and that a big change was needed. That change ended up being leaving everything behind in New York and starting over from scratch with a new life, new friends, new job and new community in Portland.

In hindsight, the change was absolutely the right one, for many reasons. I do truly feel that I had opened myself up to discernment, to listening to that 'still, small voice,' and was called back to Portland at an important time. Now I feel restless. I don't know whether this is leading me on to yet another city and another life, or whether it's change on a less dramatic scale. I think frequently about moving to another part of town, but the pro/con analysis always keeps me where I am. (For now.)

The other thing that is going on seems to be that I am possibly emerging from many years of emotional and romantic isolation. The Christian ethos I have been raised with trains me to seek one partner with which to make a committed relationship and to be abstinent otherwise, and so, in the absence of a partner all these long years, I have been...lonely, shall we say. But in my meditations in recent months (especially in Lent) I have had a great deal of focus on sex and sensuality and relationship, and as I enter tentatively back into the "dating world," part of me remains unclear whether I even want a relationship. I am sensing that the church's historic sexophobia is wrong and damaging, and yet also feel certain that there is a higher standard to which Christians are called for their intimate behavior.

The Bible doesn't anywhere condemn sex, or sexual pleasure, or sex for the sake of pleasure. That thinking is a product of the middle ages, a legacy of St Augustine's over-compensation for his own admitted debauchery and a mistaken assumption that "original sin" has something to do with sex. This got codified in Aquinas' ideas about natural law, and got us to the persisting religious argument that sex is for procreation, and only within the bonds of male/female Christian marriage; any sex that is not procreative in intent or capacity is sinful, and even procreative sex is understood to be sinful if the participants enjoy themselves. This cannot be what God intended.

Obviously this is the subject for a post of its own...many posts, probably. I concede the Bible repeatedly condemns fornication and adultery, but I think those are specific abuses of sexual behavior, not sex in general that is being condemned. Somehow I was raised with a very traditional, sex-negative religious outlook, and I think that has kept me emotionally and spiritually retarded in many ways. I have a sense that God is calling me to a healthier physical life. We'll have to see.

Late Pentecost

2011-06-13T22:11:00.000-04:00

Man, I just don't have as much free time as I used to. I guess that's good, in most ways.

Anyway. Lots I could say about Pentecost, which was yesterday, but no time and no energy. I'll just say that the Spirit came through in a couple of huge ways today and I am embarrassed that I didn't have more faith in a positive outcome.

"Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" That's from somewhere in Mark. I'm too tired to look it up. But it's one of my favorite verses and it's totally applicable right now.

Peace.

St Barnabas

2011-06-11T20:15:00.009-04:00

Ecclesiasticus (Sirach) 3:31-11; Acts 4:32-27

I suddenly dig St Barnabas. If you'd asked me yesterday who St Barnabas was, I couldn't have given you a very good answer. It's not that I've never kept his feast before, it just never stuck. I wish I had looked him up before I visited a parish of St Barnabas last week.

Reading the lessons appointed for morning prayer on this feast, one wonders just which Bible, exactly, a lot of Americans are reading. (Okay, fair enough: they are in fact probably reading one that does not contain Ecclesiasticus, found in the apocrypha.)

It's hard for me to resist the temptation of pointing out what I think other people should take away from these readings, instead of concentrating solely on what they say to me, but I just get so angry at the way our faith is misrepresented, distorted, even, yea, perverted by those who have appointed themselves its greatest advocates and true believers. Today's reading from Sirach is exemplary, but not unique. How is it, exactly, that so much of America's Christian culture aligns itself with a political system that serves Mammon? I get equally despondent over many liberals, the self-appointed guardians of objectivity and education, who are satisfied that all they need to know about the Bible or Christianity they have heard on television from crackpots, and dismiss Christians as ideological zealous bigots, or, at best, sad, deluded people clinging to some bizarre ancient myth to bring rays of hope into their pathetic little lives, and think of the Bible as an archaic manifesto for every kind of small-mindedness and oppression known to history.

The rich person toils to amass a fortune,
and when he rests he fills himself with his dainties.
The poor person toils to make a meagre living,
and if ever he rests he becomes needy.

Bam! That's about as succinct a summation of the progressive view of the shortcomings of capitalism as you could find. We hear a lot, especially from the "libertarian" crowd, about how the rich are the products of their own success and hard work and, ergo, the poor must be so because they chose not to work as hard. Assuredly, there probably are some underachievers out there who ought to take more responsibility and show some initiative, but a general philosophy that the poor don't work as hard as the rich when more often than not it's the poor who end up working the physically exhausting or the dangerous or the smelly or unpleasant or unrespected tasks is delusion. Some wealthy people definitely work very hard, but usually in a comfortable and safe way, and they are able to rest from time to time in comfort, if and when they choose. And, of course, some rich people don't work at all. We live in a celebrity culture, where some people are famous for being famous.

One who loves gold will not be justified;
one who pursues money will be led astray by it.
Many have come to ruin because of gold,
and their destruction has met them face to face.

Okay, enough shooting fish in a barrel. I certainly am no saint in this regard; perhaps I sin even more egregiously, because I read things like this, and I feel their truth, and while I desire to live a comparatively simple and modest life, the plain truth of the matter is that I am stinking, filthy rich. I don't think most Americans would agree with that assessment -- I drive a Honda, I live in a suburban apartment, I don't have a butler or a maid or take fancy vacations; in fact, I think a lot of Americans would say my life is kind of lame. I don't even have cable. And yet, given my income, I am in the top 1% of earners worldwide. More than 99% of humanity has less money than I do, so I don't know how I could define myself as anything other than loaded.

Sure, I work pretty hard (by "middle class" standards). But I'm not pursuing any particular passion; it's just a job. I want to have my modest but comfortable life, pay off my student loans, and put some money away for retirement. In our culture, that's not bad. It's considered normal and responsible. But there's the serious disconnect between a real Christian life and a generic American life. The stories of the saints are filled with people who walked away from comfort for the sake of the Gospel; in America, we tend to think that following the Gospel entitles us to comfort.

St Barnabas is one of these heroes. He was a landowner who sold his property and gave the money to the church. Now, maybe that doesn't sound so extraordinary to us. Wealthy folk - even the non-religious - commit acts of generosity and philanthropy all the time. But this information about Barnabas comes to us immediately following the controversial section of Acts that appears to claim that the early Christians were essentially socialists. "No one claimed private ownership of any possession, but everything they owned was held in common....There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold...and it was distributed to each as any had need." Barnabas didn't donate a fortune in exchange for getting the new wing of the hospital named after him. He simply gave away everything he had so that those who had nothing might have something, trusting that the community would be there to meet his needs, too. He didn't decide there was a certain fraction of his income he could do without; he laid his money at the apostles' feet.

Note how at odds this is with the political wing of our country that most loudly claims to be the paragons of Christian virtue. They abhor the notion of living like this, and rail against anything that might benefit the poor at the inconvenience of the wealthy. Of course, they defend this by noting that all this charity was voluntary, not compelled by the government. But we have a totally different system; we are not run by hereditary monarchs (hereditary oligarchs, maybe...), or puppet princes in the service of a foreign empire. We govern ourselves; it's not like Caesar taxing the poor to pay for his own excesses. Instead, we, like the apostles, are supposed to be sitting down together, adding up our resources, and using them to address our needs and problems.

I still have such trouble with the hypocrisy of these "conservatives" who claim the authority of Scripture, but only when it's not inconvenient or at odds with their personal political views. Somehow we end up with "Christians" who want to cut off unemployment assistance in a time when there are vastly more people looking for work than there are jobs to be filled, arguing that unemployment insurance just encourages people to be lazy. We get "Christians" who deny global climate change, even as poor communities in coastal areas around the world continue to be inundated by rising seas, as icecaps and glaciers disappear and deserts expand, because making a meaningful effort to combat these problems would necessarily mean making major changes in the comforts and conveniences to which Americans (especially, but not exclusively) have grown accustomed. We get "Christians" who argue that there is no "right" to health care, as though our capacity to prevent and cure disease and eliminate or ameliorate suffering is a special privilege of the wealthy, rather than a moral obligation.

Blessed is the rich person who is found blameless,
and who does not go after gold.
Who is he, that we may praise him?

Good question.

Friday in Week 7 of Easter, Year 1 - Ephrem of Edessa

2011-06-10T19:26:00.004-04:00

Luke 10:38-42

The video here doesn't really have anything specifically to do with today's lectionary, but it's a good example of the stuff I love to listen to.

I've always been very uncomfortable with Luke's story of Jesus' visit to the home of Mary and Martha; as a perfectionist and control freak myself, I relate to Martha. I can only imagine the emotional state I'd be in if freakin' Jesus were coming to my house. I would be frantically trying to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect, and I, too, would be very annoyed if someone I thought should be helping abandoned me altogether and went to the party, as it were.

Maybe it seems a little juvenile of Martha to go to Jesus and say, "Can you tell her to help me, please?" instead of talking to Mary directly and saying, "I really need your help for a little bit."

Perhaps there's a lesson in that, too: how often when difficulties in our various relationships arise, do we turn to God in prayer and ask, "Can you please tell her to help me?" or "Can you please help him understand what I'm going through right now?" If you are conflict-averse, like me, that's probably your preferred strategy, rather than confronting the person.

Now, Martha's request frankly doesn't seem all that extraordinary. Really, why should Martha do all the work by herself while Mary's off having a grand time? So I'm always really bothered by Jesus' response: "Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her."

What's that about? Mary called dibs on hanging out with Jesus so Martha has to suck it up and do all the work by herself?

Well, let's back up, here. So Martha complains, but first Jesus says to her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things." This is a very comforting statement; there is compassion here. Imagine Jesus saying this to you: "You are worried and distracted by many things." How would you respond? I would probably say, "Totally." And Jesus continues, "There is need of only one thing."

This is one of those "lilies of the field" moments, a speech that Jesus is working toward in chapter 12 of the same Gospel; "Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?" Oh...busted.

I think what has troubled me is the language of the NRSV, "Mary has chosen the better part." I'm no Greek scholar (understatement...) so for all I know, Luke's original text is best translated "better." But again, this year I am reading the KJV, which instead renders it, "But one thing is needful: and Mary hath chosen that good part, which shall not be taken away from her."

Maybe what Jesus is really saying here is not so much, "Sorry, Martha" but rather, "Stop putzing around in the kitchen and trying to do too many things and come sit by me and listen for a while." Stop being resentful of Mary and realize that she has chosen well: to not worry so much about this that and the other thing and just go and sit quietly at the foot of the Lord. I like this wording, "that good part," because it implies that Martha (and the rest of us) can choose it, too, that those of us who are busy working hard behind the scenes to make sure everything is right and perfect need to trust more that a) that is not the most important thing and b) that our needs will be met, and scurrying around trying to make perfect what God has already made perfect is wasted energy.

I don't know. Maybe that's not the point of this passage, at all. But it's always been one of my least favorite readings, as I had this notion that Jesus was condescending and dismissive of Martha. Now I have an avenue toward understanding it differently.

Thursday in Week 7 of Easter, Year 1 - St Columba

2011-06-09T22:11:00.001-04:00

Ezekiel 18:1-4, 19-32

I was first exposed to Celtic spirituality about four years ago, and I was deeply and immediately attracted to a way of relating to the goodness of God by seeing it reflected in all of creation, even and especially in simple things, and in discovering "thin" places, those locations or moments when, for whatever reason, the immanence of the divine is palpable. Many Christians give a lot of lip service to how good God is, but focus more on the darkness of the world and the human heart.

The darkness is real; but light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. It is perhaps good for us now and again to spend some time in the darkness, to be reminded of the healing and comforting powers of the Holy Spirit, and to help us empathize with those whose lives are very dark, indeed.

Earlier this week I was very much in that darkness; not only did I not blog, I wasn't even interested in intentional prayer, at all. I was overcome by negative thoughts and emotions, and instead of engaging with them, discerning their source and praying for wisdom, guidance and hope, I gave in to them. Last night I began to emerge from my funk, realizing that part of my problem was tremendous anxiety about all the many things I need to do in the next week or so, and deciding that the best way to combat that was to, you know, actually get some of that stuff done, and was up late crossing things off the list. By the time I woke up this morning and realized it was St Columba's day, it was too late for me to have morning prayer and still make it to work at a respectable time. However I am very glad I set aside time tonight for prayer; I feel very different now than I did an hour or so ago.

A lot of the fears and frustrations from earlier in the week are still with me. There was great temptation not to pray tonight, either, and go out and have fun instead (or at least look for it). But somehow I knew this restlessness I felt would be best addressed by some time of focused stillness; there's time this weekend for fun and certainly many opportunities in the coming week. It took some mental and spiritual effort to calm myself and enter into prayer, but the result is undeniable. With Celtic spirituality's emphasis on nature I took advantage of this warm, light and quiet evening and threw the windows wide open and listened to the birds and felt a gentle breeze as I settled in.

Today's lesson from the Hebrew scriptures is from the prophet Ezekiel. "But when the righteous turn away from their righteousness and commit iniquity and do the same abominable things that the wicked do, shall they live? None of the righteous deeds that they have done shall be remembered; for the treachery of which they are guilty and the sin they have committed, they shall die." [18:24]

Oh, yeah...that's where I am. Okay, I'm not saying I want to run out and commit "abominable" actions; although I suppose the normal social life of any single gay man qualifies as "abominable" in some circles. But I have been feeling the occasional desire to give the church stuff a rest, and go be a normal gay guy and date and maybe find a boyfriend and go to parties and events and wear nicer clothes, instead of always being so freaking responsible and cautious. I found myself tonight praying for help finding a balance between a healthy faith life and a healthy social life, when suddenly I realized that the seeking of a balance is the problem, because it implies that faith and social life are separate, competing needs that need to be figured out. So I stopped in mid-thought and decided instead to ask for help in integrating them.

Somewhere along the way I picked up an unhealthy dose of Calvinist fundamentalism, this notion that fun = iniquity = death. This is where the important lessons of Celtic thinking can help; there is beauty in life, there are good, divine things to be found in laughter and the company of others, alcohol (used responsibly) is a wonderful gift, dancing is one of humanity's most ancient expressions of joy (and clearly approved of by the psalmists), and there are good, healthy, divine gifts in our sexuality. That's not a carte-blanche license for debauchery, but it is an invitation to think outside of the Augustinian box, as it were.

The chapters of the book I use for my reflections on the great Celtic saints (Holy Companions) always include a short snippet of actual quotes (or at least attributions) of the saint in question; tonight I was struck by Columba's own words, "Let me study sacred books to calm my soul....let me say my daily prayers, sometimes chanting, sometimes quiet, always thanking God," and how closely that articulation resembles my own practice.

I always say this prayer in the evening: "Most holy God, the source of all good desires, all right judgments, and all just works: give to us your servants that peace which the world cannot give, so that our minds may be fixed on the doing of your will, and that we being delivered from the fear of all enemies, may live in peace and quietness, through the mercies of Jesus Christ our Lord." Tonight I really felt that peace.

Monday in Week 7 of Easter, Year 1

2011-06-06T21:50:00.000-04:00

Luke 9:51-62

Today's Gospel passage contains a fascinating episode highlighting the importance of understanding what you're reading by knowing something about historical and cultural contexts and the history of biblical texts themselves.

The lesson opens with the beautiful phrase, "When the days drew near for [Jesus] to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem," a unique Semitic idiom expressing resolve. Jesus spent the majority of his ministry in rural areas around the Sea of Galilee, and so from this point the story proceeds both geographically and spiritually toward his destiny in Jerusalem, marking a significant shift in the narrative.

In order to reach Jerusalem from Galilee one had to pass through Samaria; Samaritans revered a version of the Torah and considered themselves the true descendants of the ancient Israelites, objecting to the temple worship in Jerusalem as a fabrication invented after the Babylonian exile. Naturally, tremendous tension existed between Jews and Samaritans (a recurring theme in the gospels), and the Samaritans were not inclined to be hospitable to Jews traveling to Jerusalem.

That, then, is the important background for understanding why Jesus was not "received" by the Samaritans. The brothers James and John - the Gospel of Mark tells us Jesus referred to them as boanerges, or "sons of thunder" in Aramaic - react to this affront by asking if they should "command fire to come down from heaven and consume them," referencing one of the tales of Elijah told in 2 Kings. In the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV), the preferred text of the Episcopal Church, Jesus "turned and rebuked them."

However, for this lectionary cycle I am reading from the Authorized, or "King James" version (KJV), in honor of the 400th anniversary of its publication. Whatever its scholarly or linguistic shortcomings compared to modern translations, it remains one of the greatest achievements in the English language and, for better or worse, is the source of the Biblical texts that most people recognize or can quote.

This is one of those occasions for which it is instructive to read multiple translations. Whereas Jesus "rebuked them," full stop, in the NRSV, the KJV says Jesus "turned, and rebuked them, and said, Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of. For the Son of man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." (The NRSV puts this language in a footnote, "Other ancient authorities read...".) I would be interested to know why the editors feel the shorter text is the more authentic; presumably it has to do with the preponderance of manuscripts deemed more reliable.

We could wade deep into the weeds beating our heads against the proverbial wall at the idiotic intransigence of the folk who insist the Bible is the inerrant "Word of God," period, when the simple truth is that we have none of the original texts and the surviving manuscripts - case in point - do not always agree. Alas, it's a tired and unoriginal complaint, and one not remotely compelling or successful with the "inerrant" crowd. Criticizing fundamentalists for their lack of academic rigor is truly shooting fish in a barrel. Hooray for us contemplative eggheads who are interested in these sorts of complexities.

What caught my attention here is that the KJV is oft betimes the preferred translation of the fundamentalists, kind of in the same way that for centuries the Vulgate was the only permissible version of the Bible, even though not a single word of the original texts was in Latin. The NRSV indicates that Jesus rejected James and John's suggestion, but does not provide any further explanation. The KJV, on the other hand, has Jesus dismissing the invocation of divine violence against sinners and saying, "Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of," implying that what James and John think is righteous is actually demonic. This is, sadly, one of the things that is least understood about the Devil; we are not enticed to do "evil" things, we just become confused. Little wonder that the serpent tempted us with the fruit of the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, that we might become like God. One of the Enemy's most successful strategies - sadly illustrated by centuries of church history - is suggesting to us and thereby convincing us that acts of dire evil are actually God's will. And this power of darkness is not merely aimed at those who are weak in faith or poor in theology; this is James and John, for goodness' sake. That should be a warning to us all.

What makes the story even more interesting is that this is not some random idea the brothers came up with; they are inspired by the story of Elijah, who in fact did successfully call down fire from heaven against a hostile army. There is, so to speak, biblical precedent for their suggestion.

Jesus then goes on to say that he did not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them.

Do you ever get the feeling that folks like Pat Robertson would just love to call down divine fire on people who believe different things than he does? Bible, Bible, Bible...that's all a lot of these "Christian" extremists can talk about, and yet their referencing of it is so selective as to be comical, if it weren't so painfully serious. You can, like James and John, find plenty of Biblical support for praying for violence against sinners or enemies; the psalms are full of imprecations. But here's Jesus saying bluntly, "That's not what I'm about." And still we get "Christians" referencing Psalm 109 - "Let his days be few; and let another take his office. Let his children be fatherless and his wife a widow" - on anti-Obama t-shirts and bumper stickers. In fact, much of the Evangelical culture is built around this heretical and unbiblical notion that Jesus is coming back precisely in order to rain fire down upon the unorthodox and the unbelievers.

The only way to arrive at such a sick notion is to rip various verses from the Bible free of their important contexts, and string them together in a way in which they were not intended to be associated, and you have to completely ignore or deny a bunch of other passages.

As the saying goes, you can take the Bible literally, or you can take it seriously. You can't do both.

The Seventh Sunday of Easter - Sunday after the Ascension

2011-06-05T23:22:00.004-04:00

I'm not a particular fan of Salvador Dali, but I do love this vision of the Ascension. There are certain paradoxical qualities about it; Christ's arms are outstretched in a gesture of triumph, like Pavarotti after a climactic high note, and yet of course we are to notice that he is ascending in cruciform, that wonderful juxtaposition of triumph and tragedy at the intersection of the cross. Note how his body appears healthy, whole and strong, but the hands are tensed and the fingers are curled, as if in agony. And we mostly see the bottom of his feet, just what the "men of Galilee" who stood there gaping slack-jawed would have seen, but they do not bear the wounds of his execution. The world he leaves behind is a landscape of death; dark and dry. No trees, no lush green spaces, just a few brown buildings in a dark grey world under gathering black clouds. It's just an astonishing painting.

This morning I visited St Barnabas parish in McMinnville, a good hour from home -- but a very pleasant drive through the most lush and green pastoral landscape imaginable, dotted with beautiful farm houses, fields and orchards -- because a close friend of mine, an aspirant for holy orders, was preaching. He had the unenviable task of not only addressing the Ascension but also the mission and ministry of Integrity, the Episcopal Church's gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender outreach and advocacy organization, in a rural congregation (which it appears was very well received).

He had an interesting metaphor for the Ascension, comparing it to being a child and learning to ride a bicycle with training wheels. One day the father decides that it's time for the training wheels to come off. The child may not be ready; indeed, it may be very frightening, but the father knows this push has to be made. The father also does not turn his back and leave the child to chance, but walks or runs alongside, there to tip us back to center or pick us up if we fall over all together, until we are really ready to ride off on our own. Ascension Day is the training wheels coming off. We're still a little wobbly, but the time has come. Jesus taught us what we need to know, it's our job now to develop the skills and the confidence to ride out into the world. But we haven't been abandoned; the Holy Spirit is right there, running alongside us, encouraging us, teaching us, and ready if we fall.

I enjoyed the visit to St Barnabas very much. It was very different than my home parish in some ways, and I thought maybe I ought to make more of an effort to visit other churches. Not because I am unhappy where I am, but because I think for my own prayer disciplines it's good to expose myself to different ways of approaching worship. I am grateful that the Episcopal Church accommodates so many styles.

Recently I've been in one of those places where keeping the Daily Office has seemed more of a chore than a joy, and while I'm supposed to be focusing on my devotion, my mind wanders off to all manner of things. Last night's study of St Kevin, however, sparked my imagination and I have continued to ponder him today. I am drawn to his passion for and friendship with all kinds of animals, and his frequent desire to retire in solitude to the wilderness to pray. I wish I could find a nice place in the woods somewhere where I could go on regular, affordable retreats.

I am a big fan of the Portland-based women's vocal ensemble In Mulieribus, who specialize in medieval and renaissance polyphony. Tonight they gave a concert at St Stephen's RC church in SE Portland called Legenda Aurea, based on the medieval book of that name about the lives and legends of the saints. I almost didn't make it; I woke up from my nap late and hadn't eaten, but I managed to cook dinner, shower and get dressed all in about 45 minutes and flew out the door, arriving with about five minutes to spare at the concert. I am glad I made the effort. The music was so transcendant, I could not wait to come home and have my own private evening devotions with recordings of sacred music. I had originally planned to stop at a bar on the way home and see what was going on, but decided to go straight back, light some candles and incense and pray.

For the evening hymn, I just put my playlist on shuffle until I landed on something that was appropriate, which rather ironically/coincidentally turned out to be Hildegard von Bingen's "Cum vox sanguinis," from her body of work meant for the Feast of St Ursula, which had been on tonight's program.

Saturday in Week 6 of Easter, Year 1

2011-06-04T22:28:00.001-04:00

I have been too busy to do much about this discipline this week. Yesterday in the calendar of the Episcopal Church we celebrated the Feast of the Martyrs of Uganda, an observation that has added import given the ongoing anti-gay insanity in that country, which recently resulted in the new martyrdom of civil rights advocate David Kato.

June 3 is also the traditional date of the Feast of St Kevin, one of the great Celtic saints, who has been proposed for inclusion in the Episcopal calendar; I decided to "transfer" his feast to this evening, and am glad I did. I am exhausted and can't say much beyond the fact that I just felt a powerful resonance with his story. I hope I find the time, opportunity and energy to learn more.

Memorial Day

2011-05-30T12:14:00.002-04:00

O Judge of the nations, we remember before you with grateful hearts the men and women of our country who in the day of decision ventured much for the liberties we now enjoy. Grant that we may not rest until all the people of this land share the benefits of true freedom and gladly accept its disciplines. This we ask in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year 1

2011-05-30T09:13:00.002-04:00

Sirach (Ecclesiasticus) 43:1-12, 27-32; Matthew 13:24-34

We could say more but could never say enough;
let the final word be: ‘He is the all.’

I love the 'wisdom' books, especially Ecclesiasticus and the Wisdom of Solomon from the apocrypha. When people have shallow arguments over whether the Bible is "true," they usually reduce it to banal carping over whether the Earth was created in six days or pointing out or defending chronological inconsistencies in the gospels. Rarely does anyone seem to ask, or care, whether the Bible contains truth. That there can be truth in something that is not necessarily true from a historical or scientific standpoint is lost on a lot of people.

* * * * *

I really need to read Rob Bell's new book Love Wins. The gist of it, as I understand it, is that none of us goes to hell. I think I can understand theologically and scripturally how one gets there, but I'm not sure you can do it without disregarding a lot of other important passages that seem to make it very clear that some will be shut out of the Kingdom, especially from the Gospel of Matthew.

Today's lesson is an interesting one with a series of three parables; the last one is so brief, it's only one sentence, but it is notable that Jesus says "the kingdom of heaven is like a woman." The second parable is a famous favorite trope for the "is the Bible true" crowd, because it refers to a mustard seed as "the smallest of all seeds," which scientifically we know today is not correct. Again, we miss the forest for the trees, or the mustard shrubs, as it were. Why ignore the wisdom of the saying over a technical irrelevance?

It's the first and longest of the three stories for today that is best known and what I wish to ponder.

The parable of the tares is one of many apocalyptic passages in Matthew that seem to refer to Judgment Day, when the good will be separated from the bad, which in this tale are bound into bundles and burned.

But a closer reading does not support the notion that the meaning of this parable is that some people will be separated out. The kingdom of heaven is compared to "someone who sowed good seed in his field." Then an enemy comes overnight and sows weeds in among the wheat. This is interesting; it's not good wheat and bad wheat, it's two different kinds of plants. One kind came from the farmer, the other kind came from an enemy. Maybe it doesn't refer at all to "good" people and "bad" people and judgment, but rather God's wisdom in letting us grow, even with bad things in and among us, content in the knowledge that at the harvest time everything will work out the way it was meant to, and the enemy's efforts were in vain.

***
Sorry this post is late, I was working later than anticipated last night and then when I went back and re-read what I had written, I hated it and deleted it and started over.

Saturday in Week 5 of Easter, Year 1

2011-05-28T23:23:00.007-04:00

Psalm 27; Luke 9:1-17

The calendar notes that the General Convention of The Episcopal Church in 2009 proposed that this day be set aside for the regular liturgical commemoration of John Calvin, which suggestion will be presented for ratification in 2012. I have to say: I don't get it. Admittedly any student of theology and Christian history ought to know who he is and generally what he was about, but I find this a very odd celebration for Episcopalians. His focus on predestination and the quasi-Augustinian notion of the complete and total depravity of humankind is somewhat alien to the usual Episcopalian view of things.

* * * * *

I had originally written a much longer introduction here, and decided to file that under "TMI."

CliffsNotes version: I am the diocesan organizer in Oregon for Integrity, the national advocacy and outreach organization for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Episcopalians. Three weeks from tomorrow is the Portland Pride Parade, and for the first time in history, our diocesan bishop will be marching with us. We have also (I think...) successfully coordinated the participation of all the gay-friendly parishes in the metro area so that we march as one group.

By themselves, these should be sufficient cause for jubilation. But that's not how my mind works.

For one thing, though the bishop will be just a few blocks away, celebrating the mass at Trinity Cathedral in NW Portland (Pride is on Trinity Sunday this year), the parade starts at noon. We strategically registered late, hoping for a spot toward the back to give the bishop reasonable travel time after the Eucharist, but it's still going to be a close call. I'm already hyperventilating about that.

Second, last year's turnout (I blame the weather) was not inspirational. But this year we have the bishop. (Assuming he gets there.)

Third, we don't have a booth at the waterfront festival this time, and that's my fault. I assumed the registration deadline was a lot later than it was. Oooops. We're on the waiting list, but I think it's too late. Even if a spot opened up, how would we coordinate two days' worth of volunteer shifts on such short notice?

Fourth, I'm struggling to feel like our work is generating much if any interest beyond a tiny dedicated core, and even that has recently fractured somewhat, with the sudden resignation of one of our board members. Given that and various other scheduling conflicts that have arisen, only one other board member can attend our June meeting. Arrrghghgh.

Ooooookay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

Recently - I forget exactly where, alas - I read that when you reach a point where you can't do anything else, you should rejoice, because that means God has taken the matter out of your hands. There's a part of me that believes that, part of me that wants to trust that, and another part that wants to dismiss it as cheap Hallmarky quasi-religious schlock for the hopelessly naive.

So then we come to tonight's readings for the office. Maybe they haven't anything really to say about the underlying issues of sexuality and inclusion and equality and all that, but they do speak to the question of anxiety.

Psalm 27 is all about anxiety.

There's tons to say here about the various forms of cheap grace, as Dietrich Bonhoeffer termed it, that people ascribe to the Bible and Christianity, about the ways in which faith protects us. But this can be very dangerous thinking, leading to arrogance if our lives are presently comfortable and blessed, thinking we have earned it; leading to contempt, if we similarly look on the unfortunate and imagine if they only had our faith and our virtues they wouldn't be in that mess; or leading to guilt in thinking we have deserved our adversity. The Bible doesn't teach or promise that nothing bad will ever happen to you if you just believe the right things; the right thing to believe is that you needn't fear the bad things that may happen to you. All shall be well.

The psalmist here spends a lot of time thinking about unpleasant possibilities. Maybe evildoers will assemble against me and devour my flesh. False witnesses arise and "breathe out" violence. None of that sounds good. But in the end he advises, "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!"

Well, easier said than done. But faith is an active thing. Being strong is not about never being afraid. Being faithful is not about never doubting. From fear and doubt come strength and faith. And what's this about waiting? I want my resolution now! I want to know that everything is going to work out!

Well, it is going to work out. Maybe not in the way you'd imagined or hoped; and that's not to say there will never be pain or heartbreak. But so, so many times I look back on worries that I had or fears that I nurtured and see that they were wasted time and energy. Of course, in the moment, it's difficult. Faith isn't about being dismissive of negative possibilities, it's about hanging in there when the outcome appears bleakest. Think of the Israelites backed up against the Red Sea with Pharaoh's host charging them; all the signs and miracles that they had already witnessed didn't even come to mind, they just thought they were going to die, and this pattern repeats itself throughout the story of the Exodus. No matter how many times and how spectacularly God comes to our rescue, the next time we worry.

The Gospel passage for today is relatively long and tells two stories; one about Jesus sending the apostles out on a mission of healing (with a kind of odd interjection about King Herod), and concluding with one of the great miracle stories, the feeding of the five thousand.

I once heard in a sermon the interesting idea that the miracle Luke is talking about here isn't that two fish and five loaves of bread were somehow enough to feed five thousand with leftovers. One way of looking at the story is seeing it as a parable of anxiety: there isn't enough. Imagine everyone there has a fish, or two fish, and a loaf of bread or two. But they look around and they see all these hungry people, and they think to themselves that, as much as they might wish to help, they can't, because then there won't be enough to meet their own needs, let alone those of their 4,999 neighbors. But as soon as someone has the courage to share something from their meager lot, it inspires similar acts of confidence and generosity. And before you know it, not only was there enough, it turned out to have been this tremendous feast, and there wasn't any reason for anyone to have worried in the first place. It's a miracle of trust, not of multiplication.

Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.

So now I look back on my worries about the parade challenges. I will wait, and I will trust in the Lord. I will not think about the time and the money and the things and the people and the resources I wish I had, I will trust that not only do I already have them, I have more than I need.

Amen.

Starting Again?

2011-05-28T21:06:00.006-04:00

It's been over two years since I wrote anything for this blog; it's kind of amazing I even remembered the password!

So, why am I here? What brings me back?

I have gotten into a fairly regular discipline of keeping the "Daily Office," the practice of setting aside regular times for prayer and contemplation, using the liturgies and lectionary (a two-year cycle of daily Bible readings) of The Book of Common Prayer (BCP) of The Episcopal Church. It's a tradition that has its origins in the monastic life of the ancient church, also known as the "liturgy of the hours."

Of course, the monks said prayers about every three hours, beginning at midnight with matins, then at 3 a.m. with lauds, 6 a.m. for prime, 9 a.m. for terce, noon for sext, 3 p.m. for none, 6 p.m. for vespers and concluding at 9 p.m. for compline. Obviously this is not really practical in the context of a modern, secular life, but the BCP simplifies and consolidates it into Morning Prayer, Noontime Prayer (which is very brief), Evening Prayer and Compline.

Often, given the realities of daily life, I only manage to fit in one session, usually Evening Prayer, because that seems to be the time of day I feel at my most contemplative, and as I grow older I'm less and less of a "morning person." It is a rare day when I don't get around to it at all, and I make it a point to keep Morning and Evening Prayer and Compline (right before bedtime) during Advent and Lent.

Why do I do this?

There are many reasons, actually, and it's kind of hard to articulate some of them. For one thing, I have just fallen in love with liturgy; it appeals to my passion for structure, and I feel a deep resonance with the wisdom of the ancient church. I love that I open to the lectionary pages at the back and see, "Okay, here are the psalms appointed for this morning, and here are the lessons." I like that the lectionary forces me to read parts of the Bible I might otherwise ignore, and I like the way it is organized thematically by the seasons of the church year. I like that there's even a recommended schedule for canticles ("songs" or poems from scripture, especially Isaiah, Revelation and Luke) that are said or sung or chanted after the lessons. Thursday evening? Okay, the canticle after Old Testament lesson is the Surge illuminare. (And yeah, I like that canticles and psalms are still often identified by their Latin titles.) Sunday morning? The Benedictus Dominus...unless it's Lent, in which case it's the Kyrie Pantokrator, or Easter, when it's the Cantemus domino. I like these "rules" -- I like in such and such a season, you "must" do or say this, or in such and such a season, you "must" not.

I put "must" in quotes because I'm not under any illusion that God gives a flying one if we say "alleluia" during Lent. Still, I believe that the Holy Spirit has spoken powerfully to the church over the centuries, inspiring the development of these practices, and that following them carefully teaches us many important things that God wants us to know.

I've even created my own rules to complicate things further; at certain times I light candles and burn incense; at other times, I do not. Some days I use recordings I have collected of the psalms, canticles and ancient chants of the church; some days I do not. Most of the time I just read the Office, but sometimes I chant the whole thing, and sometimes I read it silently. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate (especially on those "silent" days), sometimes I don't feel like chanting, sometimes my mind wanders somewhere very far afield while listening to a hymn...and sometimes the experience is completely transcendent. The lectionary has this effect on me, too: some passages I read and think, "Oh, that's nice," and sometimes my honest reaction is, "What the fuck?" (You have to be honest with God, and frankly, putting the Bible down in exasperation and saying in a loud voice, "WHAT???!?!?" is a good discipline.) And still other times, I am amazed that the given passage for the day seems to speak directly to present matters; sometimes I am reassured and comforted, sometimes I am inspired, and sometimes severely chastised. This is what keeps me coming back, those hoped for but often unanticipated moments of wonder and illumination. In a way I am glad they only happen occasionally, because otherwise they might not be so special. One has to keep that in mind on the days when keeping the Office feels like a chore.

OK. So...why go back to the blog?

Well, the Office should be the means to an end (prayer), not the end itself. It should help you get started in this conversation with God. There are many beautiful prayers in the BCP: thumb through the collects or the list in the back and be reminded of all the many things we can and should be praying for, articulated in language that is more eloquent than most of us could hope to come up with. And yet, too often, I let the BCP speak for me. Too often I search the pages for a prayer that seems to encapsulate what I'm trying to say. Now, that's not all bad; in fact, that's what it's for. But at the same time, I feel a need to work harder to discern what I need to say to God and, thereby, open myself to what God has to say back.

I also want to go deeper into my contemplation of scripture. I want to force myself to address those "wtf" passages and see if I can't find something there; I want to explore the things that leap off the page and excite me.

What I am not here to do is "preach." This isn't a sermon blog, though perhaps it will sometimes read that way. My goal here is not to tell you what you should be praying for, or what a passage of scripture should mean for you. It won't help me much to be reading the Bible in the light of what I imagine you need to hear.

So why blog? Why not just keep a private journal?

Well, again: discipline. Writing for an "audience" will force me to be as concise and accurate in my meditations as possible, and will discourage intellectual laziness (I hope). I want to be open, also, to the opportunity for various readers, such as may exist, to share their own insights or offer suggestions for alternative understandings. And maybe I can form a sort of online "monastic community," where a few of us can share our meditations together, and pray for each other.

This will be a different way of blogging for me. I won't be posting much about things going on in my life, except from a spiritual perspective. I think Facebook takes care of that particular need now. I also will not be focusing on politics; I think our political culture today is positively toxic, and it is physically unhealthy for me to spend much energy there. However, I may be unable to resist the temptation to address certain political events or questions as they arise in the context of spiritual contemplation, especially in the case of political figures who play the Bible card to advance an un-Biblical argument.

I used to have a nice core of regular readers; I imagine they are all gone now. I've probably been deleted from their blogrolls and RSS feeds due to my inactivity, and that's okay. If any of you happen to still be around, say "Hi." : )

In Which I Take Hillary Clinton's Side

2009-03-30T15:53:00.001-04:00

Okay, so lately, I confess I have been on a personal journey learning more about the saints and exploring Christian mysticism and having some remarkable experiences of my own...but on the other hand, let's get real.

"The image of Our Lady of Guadalupe was miraculously imprinted by Mary on the tilma, or cloak, of St. Juan Diego in 1531."

And the pope is infallible and condoms spread HIV.

Battlestar Galactica as Apocalypse

2009-03-27T15:05:00.001-04:00

A week has gone by now since the series finale of the SciFi Network’s Battlestar Galactica, an epic television saga that stretched over four years and held my imagination captive, sometimes to the point of obsession.

In the first couple of days after the final episode, I was hesitant to admit even to myself that I felt disappointed. As I thought backwards over the series, I had so many unanswered questions and was frustrated that some things didn’t appear to make much sense, and I worried that what had seemed like one of the most complex and brilliantly thought out television shows of all time (especially during the first two seasons, with competing theologies and prophecies as a major plot element) had been rather carelessly wrapped up.

However, it suddenly occurred to me that when considered as an apocalypse, the finale was infinitely richer and more interesting. Now, what do I mean by that?

In modern English, the word “apocalypse” has come to mean “disaster,” especially relating to a cataclysmic vision of the end of the world. But in its Greek origin, it’s the “vision” that’s the apocalypse, not the disaster; literally, it just means “unveiling” or “revealing” – hence, the ancient literary work originally entitled Apokalypsis in Greek was translated into English as The Book of Revelation. The story told in Revelation is not “the end of all things,” but the passing away of the current state and the transition to a new and better existence; this is an archetypal theme that recurs across time and culture in human history, and can be found even in modern popular culture: classic examples would be Star Wars and The Lord of the Rings, as well as Richard Wagner’s four opera cycle The Ring of the Nibelung, which partly inspired the Tolkien saga. Battlestar Galactica has much in common with all of these stories.

In his preface to The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien was careful to insist that his story was not allegorical, but rather “applicable,” meaning that it was intended to be flexible enough to allow readers to find meaning however the tale resonated for them; hence, at its first publication many thought it was about the rise of Hitler, and in 2001 when Peter Jackson’s films began to come out, some people thought Sauron was Saddam Hussein and others thought he was George W. Bush; other authors have asserted that it’s a highly symbolic Catholic re-telling of John’s Revelation. Wagner’s Ring Cycle has the same advantage: vast tomes have been written discussing the political, economic, psychological, philosophical and autobiographical interpretive possibilities of the work. Viewed this way, the fact that Battlestar Galactica left many questions unanswered enhances the opportunities for finding individual and multiple relevances.

Despite claims to the contrary by many so-called literalists, the Biblical Revelation also (and intentionally) leaves many questions unanswered; though many insist that “the Bible is very clear on [fill in the blank],” even the most casual backward glance across history shows that Revelation, in particular, has been understood many different ways; still, the basic gist (after much chaos, everything turns out for the best) is (almost) universally recognized.

Battlestar Galactica most definitely cannot be said to be “allegorical” to Revelation, but it is so frequently and so overtly referential – episode 4.12 was even called “Revelations” – that parallels are inevitable. There are angels and symbolic beasts and holocausts, plagues and resurrections, even visions of destroyed and rebuilt cities. The show quite literally featured “a new earth” (Rev. 21:1).

Yet it is – ironically – in its eschatology that Battlestar Galactica most closely resembles Revelation. This may sound startlingly odd, given that BSG had no obvious redemptive savior figure or Rome/Beast character and dealt largely with two religious groups at war with each other (the quasi-evangelical monotheistic free-will Cylons vs the polytheistic predestinarian humans, with a smattering of atheists on either side), especially since members of both “sides” end up in the new Eden.

There are no saints in Galactica’s universe, but there aren’t any villains, either. All of the characters have flaws, but none of them can be said to be “bad.” Even the unscrupulous Gaius Baltar, who helped to usher in the initial cataclysm by giving the Cylons access to the security mainframe did so inadvertently; he thought he was doing Number Six a favor and never intended the consequences.

Baltar is a particularly interesting case; in the last two seasons, he was unsubtly depicted as a Christ-like figure, complete with Jesus-y hair, beard and a cult of followers who believed in his teachings. And yet he is clearly not a Jesus stand-in, not least because he doesn’t believe in God; whereas the biblical Jesus sacrificed himself for others, Gaius Baltar is first and foremost about self-preservation. Every choice he makes in the series, and all the consequences that follow, stem from selfishness and cowardice. He is the first to throw principle out the air lock.

This is significant because it underscores the important point that this is not a Christian allegory; if it were, it would alienate many viewers and restrict its applicability. Instead, it uses certain familiar references as a framework on which to hang a larger point, much in the same way that Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen has absolutely nothing at all to do with Nordic religion.

The other major BSG character who serves as a referential Jesus is Kara Thrace, better known as “Starbuck.” She literally dies, is resurrected and leads the people to salvation, though even she does not know it or understand her role. She is, in many ways, the anti-Baltar: though also obviously a flawed and broken person in many respects, she is deeply spiritual and militantly principled, willing to risk everything, her life included, in the pursuit of what she believes to be right; she goes on faith. But Kara Thrace is not a God stand-in, either; she’s a stand-in for us, as is Baltar. In the same way that humans and cylons and Wotan and Alberich and Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker are initially held up as opposites but are revealed to have much in common, they represent the inherent complexity of individual identity.

As an allegory Battlestar Galactica would make no sense because there are no direct correlations; yet the series derives many layers of meaning from overt references. Consider that, in their own ways, Starbuck, Baltar, Number Six, Roslin, Apollo and Hera are all referential Jesus figures. (Recall especially the episode where Apollo, the son of the top authority in the fleet (Apollo is also the son of Zeus), is floating in cruciform in a lake, that Roslin is a “dying leader” and Hera is a “miraculous birth” both foretold by prophecy, and that Number Six was given Jesus’ place in the famous “Last Supper” parody photo.)

So what to say about the finale itself? Bearing in mind that things can be referential without being allegorical, ultimately Battlestar Galactica presents us with a hopeful, redemptive vision akin to the 21st chapter of Revelation’s “new Jerusalem.”

Masterfully, BSG viewers were led to assume from the initial miniseries that the saga would end at Earth, and were then flabbergasted to arrive there half-way through the fourth season only to find an uninhabitable post-apocalyptic world. We stood with the characters on what appeared to be the Brooklyn waterfront, gazing at a ruined and deserted Manhattan skyline and wondered, now where?

Like many things in the biblical Revelation, it doesn’t seem to make literal sense that we stood in a nuked-out New York City two-thousand years gone and then a few weeks later arrived at a different place that is explicitly shown to be Earth, but 150,000 years before the present day. But Admiral Adama explains to us, “Earth isn’t a place, it’s an idea.” Similarly, I’m not sure we are meant to believe that the “new Jerusalem” is literally a city that will descend out of the clouds.

The “new earth” isn’t the spiritual end of the road, either. We know this because Anders says farewell to Starbuck with the words, “See you on the other side,” and because Laura Roslin finally dies upon reaching “the promised land.” (See, with “applicability” you can be both Moses and Jesus and simultaneously neither!)

Despite this emotional denouement, the overall mood of the final scenes is hope-filled. As in Revelation, where the tree that spans both banks of the river that flows from the throne of God grows leaves to be used “for the healing of the nations” (22:2), cylon and human have recognized their common origin, put aside the mutual injuries of the past, and committed to a new way of living. They, like the people of Nineveh, discover that prophecy doesn’t mean you throw up your hands and surrender to inevitability, it means that you respond. We are told over and over again in Battlestar Galactica that “all of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.” In the final episode, the characters collectively decide to break the cycle, and thus achieve their redemption.

At Long Last

2009-01-20T07:00:00.000-05:00

On Hiatus

2009-01-16T14:26:00.000-05:00

Hello,

Thanks to those of you who have emailed me to make sure everything is all right. I apologize for my absence on this blog. Everything is fine. Not fantastic, but fine.

I think I am just taking some undefined period "off" from blogging. I would like to blog again, I am just feeling kind of at a loss.

I would happily accept your prayers on my behalf for renewed inspiration. Hopefully I will be back soon.

Andy

Obama's First Huge Mistake

2008-12-18T17:06:00.000-05:00

The selection of evangelical megachurch pastor Rick Warren to deliver the invocation at the inauguration of Barack Obama on January 20 is absolutely astonishing and tremendously disappointing.

President-elect Obama's defense of the choice is ironic: claiming that he wants to honor and represent the diversity of America, he has gone with a pastor who has stood in public opposition to that ideal.

Rick Warren is entitled to his religious views that homosexuality is incompatible with Scripture and to hold the belief that marriage should be between one man and one woman. He is even entitled to disregard all the available scientific research on the subject of sexual orientation and continue to maintain that homosexuality is a "lifestyle choice" that can be "treated." He was entitled to support California's Proposition 8 and to campaign on its behalf.

What Pastor Warren was not entitled to do, however, was to participate in a campaign of dishonesty about the "threat" the civil marriage of same-sex couples posed to religious freedom and freedom of speech. He claimed that any religious figure who spoke out against homosexuality or same-sex marriage could be "charged" with hate speech and fed the silly fear that churches would be "forced" to hold same-sex wedding ceremonies.

Either Mr. Warren does not understand his own first amendment rights that he claims to be so worried about, or he is a liar.

The legalization of civil marriage for same-sex couples does not restrict in any manner any person's fundamental right to speak in opposition. Just look how many people were censored or arrested for "hate speech" in California during the four months that same-sex marriage was legal there: zero. And how many pastors were forced to bless same-sex unions agains their deeply held religious beliefs? None.

It is true that Warren's rhetoric has been more moderate in tone than many other conservative religious leaders, but the content was no less poisonous. It is odious that in the name of "diversity" Barack Obama has given this honor to a person who used his pulpit to call for the elimination of existing rights for a minority population based on prejudice -- whether protected speech, or no.

Barack Obama's victory was in large part possible because the nation chose to soundly repudiate the politics of pander perfected by Karl Rove in targeting people like Rick Warren and his supporters. It is disheartening that this selection reinforces the notion that to be a credible religious figure in America one must be socially conservative. Why couldn't Obama have picked a progressive member of the clergy, like evangelical activist Jim Wallis? Or why not Katharine Jefferts Schori, the first woman presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, who is also a scientist? Or perhaps a prominent African American scholar like Harvard's Peter Gomes?

Consider me extremely disappointed.

Thank God for CNN

2008-12-14T19:18:00.001-05:00

Today's top story: "A man identified as an Iraqi journalist threw shoes at -- but missed -- President Bush during a news conference Sunday evening in Baghdad, where Bush was making a farewell visit. In Arab culture, throwing shoes at someone, or sitting so that the bottom of a shoe faces another person, is considered an insult."

Okay...unlike, where, exactly, where chucking footwear at someone is a compliment?

So, Portland is having this once-in-a-century kind of blizzard thing. The cats and I are curled up under the tree listening to the wind howl. There is nothing on TV. I am actually considering watching the SciFi original movie about the great white shark terrorizing the canals of Venice. I'll probably just watch until a gondola gets eaten and then go to bed.

I'll leave you with this parting thought:

Somewhere Out There...

2008-12-11T18:33:00.001-05:00

Hi, y'all. Thanks for the comments and the inquisitive emails that have come in. I'm okay. Just haven't felt any inspiration to write at all for days. I know, right? So much going on. Newsweek publishes a coverstory on the Biblical argument FOR gay marriage. George W. Bush says he's not a biblical literalist and says evolution is not incompatible with scripture. Blagojevich. (What a bleepin' blogging goldmine THAT is.) And yet...thoughts (at least, coherent ones) just aren't coming. All this stuff is right up my alley! But all I can manage right now is a "meh."

For the Record...

2008-12-01T21:30:00.001-05:00

As much as I opposed Hillary Clinton's pursuit of the Oval Office, I am rather intrigued and excited by the notion of having her as Secretary of State. She makes Sarah Palin's "pitbull with lipstick" look like a poodle.

Blasphemy on Several Different Levels

2008-11-29T18:08:00.000-05:00

Wow, here's maybe the worst idea anyone's ever had. Paul McCartney and Jesus are both spinning in their graves.

I Thought I'd Seen Everything

2008-11-29T13:31:00.001-05:00

You know, I feel like more than 13 years of living in Manhattan allows me to be pretty jaded about quite a lot of stuff.

Nonetheless, when I was strolling around downtown Portland this morning and witnessed a man with his pants down around his ankles humping a trashcan, I have to say I was surprised.

Continuing Saga of the iTunes Genius Sidebar FAIL

2008-11-28T14:35:00.000-05:00

I know I have taste in music that runs outside the mainstream, but seriously...what's going on at iTunes? Why is it that when my selection is "Il segreto per esser felice" from Donizetti's Lucrezia Borgia sung by Marilyn Horne that the iTunes "Genius" recommendation is "Con te partiro" as "sung" by Andrea Boccelli? This would be like me going into a restaurant and remarking that I like Veuve Clicquot and having the sommelier respond by suggesting a glass of Diet Pepsi. WTF, people?

Day Trip to Cape Meares, Oregon

2008-11-27T00:15:00.010-05:00

My New Mantra

2008-11-24T21:17:00.000-05:00

So, I was just thumbing through a new book my therapist -- oh, yes, NEWSFLASH!, I am crazy -- anyway, my therapist recommended, and I was browsing through a page of affirmations. I misread "I am prosperous" as "I am preposterous."

I think I like that better.

iTunes Genius Sidebar FAIL

2008-11-23T20:18:00.001-05:00

Currently playing: the Benedictus from Mozart's Great Mass in C Minor.

iTunes: "We currently have no matches for this selection. Recommended: "Single Ladies" - Beyonce Knowles."

Ummm...?

Is Anybody Home at CNN?

2008-11-23T12:55:00.000-05:00

Here's a lame-ass headline from CNN.com: "Obama's Vetting Could Chase Away Candidates."

Yes, you morons. THAT IS THE POINT. Sheesh!

Sarah Palin's Secret Gay Son

2008-11-23T08:49:00.000-05:00

So, I had this very odd dream last night.

My father was reading to me out of The National Enquirer -- so, already you know we are in some kind of alternate-reality here -- an article claiming that Alaska Governor Sarah Palin (you might remember her from such political disasters as "The Turkey Slaughter that Upstaged My Press Conference" and "The Couric Interviews") had a secret son named Brian no one knew about, who had been disowned and exiled because of his homosexuality.

Well, I had to find out if this was true, so immediately I set out to investigate. And then, well, this being a dream, suddenly I was no longer with my father, I was entering a building that appeared to be a library. A vaguely cherubic, slightly pudgy, rosy-cheeked teenager passed me and said, "Hello, Andy."

"Wait -- how do you know my name?" I inquired of the stranger. He winked at me, and then presto we were in some kind of underground lair where he revealed his identity to me.

"You know who I am," he said -- and I did! -- "but I no longer use the name that was given to me. I am now called Shhhhhh." When he pronounced his name, it echoed around the subterranean cavern with terrible authority.

He then explained that during his years of exile he had come in contact with a master race of alien homosexuals and had become their military commander. He was right this moment in the process of initiating an intergalactic invasion that would wipe out fundygelicals once and for all and then said, "But I am looking for a pastry chef. Are you interested in the job?"

Even though I am not a pastry chef, naturally I accepted. Then I woke up.

This Opera Rated PG-13

2008-11-22T19:45:00.000-05:00

This afternoon I was chatting with a friend of the family who casually mentioned that she was thinking of taking her nine year-old daughter to see an opera, and asked if there was anything coming up soon in Portland that I could recommend.

"Well," I said hesitantly, "there are only two more productions left in the season. In February there's The Turn of the Screw by Benjamin Britten, which is about two ghosts who sexually abuse children, and then there's Rigoletto, which is about a teenage girl who gets abducted, raped, stabbed and stuffed in a sack."

Opera Review: Fidelio in Portland

2008-11-16T21:02:00.001-05:00

It seems odd that it took seventeen years for an avid opera goer like myself to make it to a performance of Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio, but that's how it turned out.

I confess, Fidelio is not one I'd really been dying to see. The Met had a new production with Ben Heppner and Karita Mattila when I was still in New York, and even though it was a hot ticket, I imagine I could have gotten in if I'd summoned a little effort. I just wasn't that interested; in college, while I was busily devouring every recording I could get my hands on, I borrowed Fidelio from the library -- admittedly, the messy Behrens/Hofmann recording which, to put it nicely, doesn't capture either of them at their best -- and just wasn't that impressed. I don't know it nearly as well as the rest of the standard canon.

Fortunately, I was able to attend both the opening and closing performances of Portland Opera's recent run, which ended last night. The PO folks should be extremely proud of the first-rate roster they were able to field of this extraordinarily difficult-to-cast opera. It was the best all-around singing I have heard there, and would have impressed audiences at any of the great houses in the world.

In the title role, soprano Lori Phillips tackled the often awkward vocal line with gusto, especially on closing night, in which she and the rest of the cast were infinitely more confident and committed. Her voice is strongly reminiscent of Leonie Rysanek's. Tenor Jay Hunter Morris may not have the most appealing tone quality, but he has the technique and stamina to get through some of the least gracious vocal lines ever set to paper, plowing heroically through the ridiculous -- and yet, emotionally powerful -- "In des Lebens."

Deeper voices were gloriously represented by Greer Grimsley as Don Pizarro, Arthur Woodley as Rocco and Clayton Brainerd as Don Fernando. Grimsley has one of my absolute favorite voices; his incredible power and infinitely rich tone more than compensated for the handicap of being stuck with a one-dimensional role and school-pageant style dialogue. Mr. Woodley has an especially appealing voice; a wonderful basso cantabile, I hope he comes back to Portland soon and would love to hear him in a lieder recital. In Don Fernando's brief outing, Clayton Brainerd nearly stole the show just by virtue of his incredibly imposing presence and classically handsome face. That he can sing -- and sing very well! -- was just icing on the cake.

In the smaller roles, Portland Opera studio artist Brendan Tuohy gave an affecting account of the first prisoner's solo. Tenor Jonathan Boyd sang prettily as the oaf Jacquino. The best singing of the evening came from soprano Jennifer Welch-Babidge in the role of Marzelline; she has an extremely beautiful voice and is charismatic and comfortable onstage. I hope to see her return in a meatier role.

Under the baton of Arthur Fagen, I would say that perhaps Beethoven's score would fare better with a slightly more polished orchestra, except that they played so well in Aida and Traviata. It just didn't seem to me to be a particularly passionate, imaginative rendering. The augmented chorus was impressive.

I would complain that the updated, modernized production gave no hint of the story's Iberian setting, except Beethoven's music has about as much Spanish flavor as knockwurst and sauerkraut. I remain unconvinced as to the wisdom of producing operas sung in the original language but with English dialogue; it seems hopelessly schizophrenic. The supertitles aided and abetted the contemporary setting in questionable fashion; I am pretty certain that Jacquino does not actually sing, "Damn that telephone!"

I'm afraid it's 0-2 for director Helena Binder at Portland Opera, whose debut was last season's trainwreck Rodelinda. True, she has taken on difficult assignments. Rodelinda makes no sense at all, so Fidelio -- which starts out as a quirky romantic comedy and then abruptly makes a 90-degree turn to populist political thriller -- seems like Shakespeare in comparison. Still, there is no evidence that she has any clue what to do with a singing actor. Ms. Phillips, in particular, would have benefited from a better director. Having not seen this production's original incarnation under Chris Alexander at Seattle Opera, I cannot say what Ms. Binder's innovations, if any, were. Overall, the stage action was limp at best; the choral finale, while vocally thrilling, lamely consisted of a casual semi-circle and unconvincing, synchronized fist-waving. God only knows why a prisoner would attempt to scale a barbed-wire fence under the watchful eyes of six automatic-rifle-armed guards two feet away, but if Ms. Binder was just being faithful to the original production, perhaps she might have selected a chorister for the job who looked less like he was barely able to hop the curb, let alone a fence.

Join the Impact: Photos from Across the Country

2008-11-16T09:06:00.000-05:00

Wow, is all I can say.

Join the Impact: Prop 8 Rally in Portland!

2008-11-15T17:47:00.000-05:00

In which it is revealed that I suck at community organizing.

In the wake of the passage of California's Proposition 8, which took away the right of same-sex couples to marry in that state, a national day of protest was organized by a group called "Join the Impact," with simultaneous rallies in every state in the country.

I decided this would be a boffo opportunity for the recently resurrected Oregon chapter of Integrity. The local network coordinator could not attend (Ducks game!), but he gave me his email password and on Thursday I sent out an email blast to basically the entire Diocese inviting them to the protest.

I know it was short notice -- the whole event was planned over the internet in just a couple of days -- but I confess I'd hoped for slightly better Episcopal representation. Only one other member of Integrity showed up -- and he hadn't gotten the email, he was just there by coincidence. So it was me, him, his straight roommate, and one very nice, very supportive lady from my church. Oh well.

The rally consisted of a series of speakers. For the first 20 minutes, they had no amplification whatsoever. Then someone brought a bull-horn, but the speakers were in the center of the crowd, so if the bullhorn wasn't pointed right at you, you couldn't hear what was being said. Eventually we moved away from the main part of the crowd since we realized no one could see our banner, and took up a spot on the steps of the PSU library. I think people maybe thought we were crazy Christian counter-protesters.

Sam Adams, the openly gay mayor-elect of Portland, gave a barnstormer of a speech. At least, I'm guessing he did. We heard the crowd roar repeatedly with approval, but I didn't hear a single word. Next time some AMPLIFICATION might be in order, folks.

At least I got this cute new profile pic of me and some other guy's dog. How gay is this?

Random Memories from Hell

2008-11-11T19:56:00.000-05:00

When I was in kindergarten, I had a horrible teacher.

Students were required to bring something in for Show & Tell. I decided I'd bring in my stuffed elephant, Bart. (Technically, BART, named after the Bay Area Rapid Transit.)

Ms. Kusmal asked me what Bart ate.

I thought I would play along and cheerfully responded, "Peanut butter!"

Then Ms. Kusmal made me stay in at recess for "being silly."

Bumpersticker of the Day

2008-11-09T17:32:00.001-05:00

"If We Ignore the Environment, It Will Go Away."

Thought for the Day

2008-11-07T06:41:00.001-05:00

Those who hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of my head;
my lying foes who would destroy me are mighty.
Must I then give back what I never stole?

Psalm 69:5

She Thought Africa Was a Country

2008-11-06T07:30:00.000-05:00

FOX News doesn't just throw Sarah Palin under the bus, they tie her to the bumper and hit the gas.

Sign of the Apocalypse

2008-11-05T20:08:00.001-05:00

Perusing the Google searches that are leading folks to my blog 1 day after the election, "Obama Antichrist" and variations seem to be winning.

For the curious, here's every post I've written that contains "antichrist."

Whoops, I Was Wrong

2008-11-05T18:42:00.000-05:00

I predicted Obama would get 355 electoral votes.

Looks like he's headed for 364. My bad!

CA Prop 8 to Face Court Challenge

2008-11-05T15:57:00.002-05:00

Opponents of Proposition 8 in California have refused to concede the election, citing the approximately 4 million absentee ballots that have yet to be counted. That's probably a long shot, but apparently we have another ace up our sleeve.

Originally I believed there would be no recourse in the courts; after all, Proposition 8 amends the state constitution, which the state supreme court must uphold and enforce. However, an emergency appeal was filed today by Lambda Legal, the ACLU and the National Center for Lesbian Rights urging the invalidation of Proposition 8.

Here's the argument: in May, the court cited numerous precedents and reiterated that marriage is a fundamental right. Proposition 8 improperly eliminates access to a fundamental right by targeting a specific group. To put that another way, it's as if California voters had passed an amendment to deny the right of free speech only to women, or the right to vote to non-whites. According to the brief filed today, "any measure that would change the underlying principles of the constitution must first be approved by the legislature before being submitted to the voters. That didn’t happen with Proposition 8, and that’s why it’s invalid."

There's even a precedent for this. In 1990, the state supreme court reversed an initiative that "improperly attempted to strip California’s courts of their role as independent interpreters of the state’s constitution. "

The state legislature voted twice to legalize same-sex marriage in the state, and the supreme court ruled 4-3* back in May in favor of marriage. Proposition 8 may yet fall.

The bigots will scream bloody judicial activism, but we have to win this. Proposition 8 is a manifest injustice. Under the banner of righteousness, these people campaigned on fear and deception to villainize and victimize thousands of their fellow citizens. Prop 8 protects nothing -- least of all children or the free expression of religion -- and serves only to deny thousands of Americans their fundamental rights for the sake of outright prejudice.

In yet more reassuring news, the California Attorney General issued a statement today that the 18,000 same-sex marriages that have already taken place will continue to be honored.

This is not over!

* In the original version of this post, I inadvertently wrote that the supreme court ruled "unanimously" in favor of marriage; I was thinking of New Jersey's Lewis v. Harris. In the California case, three justices concurred and dissented in part.

Mixed Blessings

2008-11-05T07:00:00.000-05:00

Right now, my relief and joy that Barack Obama was elected president has been momentarily supplanted by distress that Proposition 8 in California appears to be passing. This country took one giant leap forward for civil rights last night, and one step back.

Still, there are reasons to be encouraged. That fully 48% of California voters said they were okay with same-sex marriage is a huge milestone and shows just how far the gay rights movement has come. Younger voters overwhelmingly opposed it. Our day will come.

More on this later.

The Mac is Back

2008-11-04T21:25:00.000-05:00

John McCain -- your concession speech was amazing. That was the John McCain I thought I knew. Where have you been?

Too little, too late.

Dodged That Bullet

2008-11-04T20:21:00.000-05:00

Sayonara, Sarah!

It's Over

2008-11-04T18:23:00.000-05:00

Going out on a limb, but with MSNBC calling Ohio for Obama, it's over. According to my projections, Obama did not need Ohio to win. This clinches it.

Ready for Tonight

2008-11-04T06:06:00.000-05:00

Which will it be?

And, a propos of nothing, a gratuitous picture of the kids enjoying the last nice weather of 2008.

Confession (2)

2008-11-03T20:48:00.001-05:00

I am freakin' NERVOUS!!!!!!!!!

2008 Election Predictions

2008-11-02T08:50:00.002-05:00

Because I am so good at this, I'm going to go ahead and offer up my predictions for election night: Barack Obama will win with 355 electoral votes.

What to Watch For on Tuesday Night

Despite John McCain's claims that they are making a last minute national surge -- his campaign manager, Rick Davis, argued that Barack Obama is advertising in Arizona, Montana and Georgia in a desperate last-ditch attempt to broaden his territory to eke out a win -- there are hardly any scenarios in which McCain pulls this off.

McCain's one hope is to win Pennsylvania, but poll guru Nate Silver has said that Obama has a better chance of winning Arizona than losing the Keystone State...so, not great odds for McCain. As I said last week, I think Obama's electoral floor is 272, and that's without Ohio, Florida, Nevada, Missouri, Colorado, New Mexico, Indiana and North Carolina. Barack Obama doesn't need any of those states to win, but McCain needs them all, plus PA.

Once Virginia and Pennsylvania are called for Obama, we can start popping the champagne. (Nonetheless, I also have a bottle of Jack Daniel's on hand, just in case.)

Other Races

Oh, I am looking forward to cleaning house in a big way. Buh-bye, Senator Stevens and Senator Dole. Sayonara, Michelle Bachman. I am also crossing my fingers for the end of Ohio's crazy congresswoman Jean Schmidt. My wish list includes victories for Al Franken in Minnesota and incumbent governor Chris Gregoire in Washington, but those are too close to call.

Proposition 8 in California...we just have to hope.

In Oregon, it appears the bell will toll for Senator Gordon Smith. I struggled with my vote on this one. I don't have any particular issue with Sen. Smith; I think he's one of the few congressional Republicans with any integrity, and he's been a faithful steward for the state of Oregon. That was almost enough for me to vote for him, right there. His challenger, Jeff Merkley, ran some dispiriting ads, and Smith responded in kind, which has been very disappointing. Nonetheless, when it came right down to it, I couldn't deny that Merkley is going to be the more reliable vote on issues that are important to me.

The Future of the Republican Party

Civil war's a-brewin'.

Many Republicans will chuck Sarah Palin under the bus as the albatross that sank the USS McCain; others will hold her up as a martyr. McCain will be marginalized, blamed by the economic conservatives for selling out to the fundamentalists, and villainized by social conservatives for being too soft on Obama.

There is no "Republican Party," and hasn't been for a long time. The leading lights of the party, such as it is, are Mitt Romney and Mike Huckabee. John McCain was the sorry compromise that emerged from the inability of the two wings of the party to agree. Romney is the standard-bearer for the small-government, big-business neocons who are far more concerned about the capital gains and inheritance taxes than they are about gay marriage. Many of those Republicans, despite their philosophical differences with the Democrats, will vote for Obama this year because he's the lone voice of sanity on the ballot. (Hence the rash of recent endorsements.)

What's left is the loony right. They will be convinced that they lost because they weren't right-wing enough. These are the folks who live in the fantasy universe where Barack Obama is a socialist radical Islamist whose friends are PLO spokesmen and domestic terrorists, who will ban the Bible, prohibit religious speech and force gay marriage on the country while taxing us all into poverty. Their new heroes are Sarah Palin and, yes, Joe the Plumber.

Department of Unintentional Irony

2008-11-01T22:05:00.000-04:00

Anyone who knows me knows that I can't stand scary movies. My imagination is waaaayyyy too suggestive. Sometimes I had to turn off "The X-Files." I didn't sleep for a week after Congo.

And yet...? I looooooove The Shining.

So, Starbuck and I are watching it right now on A&E. (Rocky is cowering under the bed.)

Twice now, there's been a commercial for Pella Windows featuring a young boy riding around the house on a tricycle.

Nice.

Turnabout is Fair Play

2008-10-31T18:28:00.000-04:00

Bill Clinton for Marriage Equality

2008-10-31T14:19:00.000-04:00

Via Andrew Sullivan:

"This is Bill Clinton calling to ask you to vote NO on Proposition 8 on Tuesday, November 4th. Proposition 8 would use state law to single out one group of Californians to be treated differently -- discriminating against members of our family, our friends and our co-workers. If I know one thing about California, I know that is not what you're about. That is not what America is about. Please vote NO on 8. It's unfair and it's wrong. Thank you."

Sullivan writes, "If he makes the difference, we can finally forgive him for DOMA."

I second that.

Happy Halloween!

2008-10-31T06:06:00.000-04:00

Barack Obama for President

2008-10-30T11:55:00.001-04:00

This is a defining moment in American history, and the choice before us is clear. Barack Obama is the man we need to take the helm and steer us in a new direction.

At this point, there are only two justifications for supporting John McCain: short-sighted greed and fear.

Back in June, Obama headed to Florida to reassure Jewish voters. "Let me know if you see this guy named Barack Obama," he quipped. "Because, he sounds pretty scary." The Republican Party has spent all of its time manufacturing a grotesque caricature of the Democratic nominee that bears no resemblance whatsoever to the original. John McCain has campaigned nearly exclusively on wild, fear-mongering claims about what Obama would "do" to the country, while offering almost nothing in terms of policy and vision.

John McCain has served his country admirably and once had broad, bi-partisan appeal. He is a true American hero who suffered unimaginable horrors in Vietnam. He has stood up for sensible policies on taxation, immigration, the treatment of detainees and campaign finance reform.

Unfortunately, that John McCain didn't run for President.

The John McCain that did run has so little idea of what to do for this country and so vague a concept of why anyone should vote for him that he had a create a straw bogeyman, banking his candidacy on fear and prejudice and hoping that he could convince moderates and independents that Barack Obama would be so terrible for America that we should prefer to prolong the Bush years.

The latest bizarre smear is that Obama is a "socialist" who wants to "spread the wealth around." The picture he paints is of a Robin Hood government, robbing hard-working Americans to give handouts to the poor and lazy. But all Obama wants to do is return us to the tax structure we had under the Clinton Administration. Republicans can chant all they like that higher taxes shrink the economy and eliminate jobs, but if you compare eight years of George W. Bush and eight years of William Jefferson Clinton, you'll see that our economy did just fine with the top 5% of Americans paying slightly more. Most Americans remember the economic boom of the 90s rather fondly. I, for one, certainly miss my Intel shares that used to trade at $145. (As I write, that stock is currently at $15.81.)

McCain accuses Obama of being naive on foreign policy, but the record demonstrates that he has been sound and prescient. Most Americans now understand that the war in Iraq was an enormous mistake. Whether Iraq can evolve into a functioning democratic society is not up to us and is not something we can unilaterally achieve through military force. We can't achieve it in Afghanistan, either, but at least there we can pour our resources into chasing down Al Qaeda and Osama bin Laden, who remains free these seven years after 9/11. McCain speaks of diplomacy as if merely sitting down to negotiations with the likes of Castro or Ahmedinejad is some sort of enormous concession. But talking to our enemies doesn't mean we concede anything. It's the adult thing to do. Eight years of neocon-fantasy foreign policy should be enough to convince us that it doesn't work.

Obama's proposal for fixing healthcare in this country isn't perfect, but it's a step in the right direction. Frankly, the solution -- eliminating the scourge of for-profit private health insurance -- is presently politically untenable, so Obama has put forward the best we can do for now. McCain, on the other hand, has famously argued that we should eliminate consumer protections and government oversight so that we can do for healthcare what we did for the banking industry. His plan taxes healthcare benefits for the first time in history, with the express intent of driving employees to find their own coverage on the open market. In exchange, he offers them a tax credit that, in most cases, wouldn't even amount to half of the annual cost of a policy. He would allow insurance companies to exclude patients with pre-existing conditions.

McCain is now attempting to make the argument that, after all these years in public service -- as a community organizer, as a professor, a state legislator and a senator and twenty months on the campaign trial in a 24/7 news cycle -- that we don't know who Barack Obama is. They are openly trying to align him with radical fringe elements of society and despicably claim that he is "pals" with terrorists. This is beneath contempt. He has generally allowed some of his supporters to believe that Obama is a "secret" Muslim, and has not even had the principle or the courage to stand up to this appalling bigotry to remind people that there is no religious litmus test for public office in this country, that we have many citizens of all faiths in the United States, including many native-born Muslims, and that Muslim-Americans are presently fighting and dying for us in Iraq and Afghanistan. Barack Obama is not a Muslim but the only honorable response to the "accusation" is, "So what if he were?"

In his choice of a vice president, John McCain has selected a religious zealot who wears her ignorance as a badge of honor and calls it patriotic. Her job on the campaign trail has been to wink and fan the smoldering flames of ancient hatreds from our nation's ugly past.

On Tuesday, please vote Barack Obama for America.

The Religious Case Against Proposition 8

2008-10-28T14:00:00.005-04:00

Next Tuesday, when California voters head to the polls to pick the next president, they will also be deciding on Proposition 8, which seeks to amend the state constitution and thereby nullify the state supreme court's ruling from earlier this year, which found that a ban on same-sex marriage was unconstitutional.

Supporters of the proposition claim to be protecting "traditional" marriage from a threat that is clearly non-existent. Their entire campaign is based on lies, distortions and the absolutely preposterous notion that heterosexuals will opt for non-procreative same-sex relationships leading to the extinction of the human race, simply because the law says they can, as if homosexuality is contagious and can be legislated out of existence, rather than a biological phenomenon affecting a tiny percentage of the population.

One of the myths being pushed by supporters of the proposition is that a "no" vote would have a profoundly adverse effect on First Amendment guarantees of free speech and religious expression; in fact, the opposite is true.

Anti-gay forces are claiming that legalized gay marriage somehow gives the state the power to force clergy to perform same-sex marriages and would ban religious speech against homosexuality. These accusations are utterly without merit.

There is a difference in this country between civil marriage and religious marriage, whatever the protestations of the extreme right wing, that is very clearly illustrated: no state in the union requires the religious solemnization of a marriage nor recognizes a religious marriage without a civil license. Same-sex marriage does not change this.

The argument that churches would be "forced" to perform a marriage that was against their religious beliefs is utterly unfounded. For example, there is no limit to how many times a person can be legally married and divorced in the United States, but the Catholic church does not recognize the re-marriage of divorced persons. You can trot down to city hall and get your third, fourth, eighth license, whatever. But the government is absolutely powerless to require a Catholic priest to officiate at a marriage ceremony for you.

Most churches require couples counseling with a minister before a marriage ceremony; it's rare, but clergy have the pastoral right to decide a couple should not be married for whatever reason and decline to officiate. That can't stop them from obtaining a civil license.

Similarly, Catholics, Mormons and Orthodox and Conservative Jews oppose interfaith marriages. A Mormon can legally marry a Jew, but no church or synagogue can be compelled to host the ceremony or recognize the relationship. The plain truth is that federal and local governments already recognize the marriages of couples whose unions are opposed by various longstanding religious traditions.

Ask the Catholic Archdiocese of Boston how many same-sex marriages they have been forced to perform since 2003.

Far from protecting first amendment guarantees about the freedom of religion, Proposition 8 actually imperils them. One of the many bogus assumptions supporters of the proposition make is that to be "religious" means to be anti-gay. Some religious groups openly oppose Proposition 8.

Furthermore, religious groups including Unitarian Universalists, the Metropolitan Community Church, the United Church of Christ and Conservative and Reform Jewish synagogues routinely bless same-sex unions. While the practice remains controversial in many other denominations, individual churches within mainline traditions (especially the Episcopal and Lutheran churches) often welcome and bless same-sex couples.

Rt. Rev. J. Jon Bruno, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles, recently had this to say: "Performing and blessing [same-sex] marriages is not simply theoretical. There are real people in congregations large and small who have waited sometimes for many years for this opportunity, and the witness of their faithful love has been an inspiration to me....While no one in this Diocese will be forced to move beyond what his or her conscience allows, we seek to provide that gracious space for those whose conscience compels them to bless the marriages of all faithful people as together we discern the work of the Holy Spirit who continues to lead us into all truth."

Thus, Proposition 8 does not protect religious expression at all but rather threatens the legitimate diversity of opinion on this issue among people of faith in the name of a narrow, fundamentalist orthodoxy. Legal recognition and protection of same-sex unions threatens no one and enhances freedom of religious expression in the State of California.

This post is written in support of Write to Marry Day.

Practical Uses for Pornography

2008-10-26T21:52:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend I was in the town of Monmouth, Oregon to lead another LGBT faith outreach workshop centered around the documentary For the Bible Tells Me So. Just to put this in context, the giant billboard alongside Highway 99W just north of town proclaims in bold red letters, "POLK COUNTY IS PALIN COUNTRY." (In 2004, Polk went for Bush by 12 points.)

After the screening, we broke up into small groups for discussion. I talked about the challenges of trying to conceal my sexuality as a teenager from a born-again father. "That must have been very difficult for you," said a concerned, sympathetic older woman. Then I recalled one of my more brilliant strategies.

"Yeah. I used to hide pictures of naked women in my bedroom for my dad to find, to throw him off the trail."

Where Have I Heard That Before?

2008-10-24T14:44:00.002-04:00

From the New York Daily News:

"Rep. Pete King (R-N.Y.) said the Arizona senator wasn't talking about "real New Yorkers."

"He's talking about Park Ave. and the upper West Side, which is inhabited by the liberal socialites and the media types who, yeah, are certainly elitists," King said.

As it happens, the U.S. zip code that's given the most to the McCain campaign - $909,128 - is Manhattan's 10021, which includes a swath of Park Ave. "

* * * * *

Also this today from James Carville: "The reason Republicans are happy about Joe the Plumber is they're glad they got somebody hanging around a toilet other than Larry Craig."

Who's Got the Last Laugh Now?

2008-10-24T14:03:00.002-04:00

Gail Collins' column from yesterday's New York Times brought back memories of my first-ever temp job as a telemarketer.

Picture it: Portland, Oregon, the fall of 1993. I was preparing to transfer to a school in New York City and took a semester off to live at home and work to save money for the move. I signed up with a temp agency.

When they called with the first assignment, they didn't really make clear that this was going to be a telemarketing job. I'm pretty sure they said I would be "handling the phones" at a comedy club downtown. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind -- anyone who knows me knows I hate telephones -- but I had to accept the first job.

I took an instant dislike to the manager of the club, the type of guy who obviously thinks of himself as a complete hot-shot. After telling me I didn't need to dress for work since the place wasn't open during the day, he showed me to a small, fluorescent-lit office where about four other people were sitting at folding tables with telephones and phonebooks.

"Here you go," he said, pointing to a chair and handing me a script.

"Hi, my name is _________________, and I'm calling from the Last Laugh Comedy Club in downtown Portland. Do you like to laugh? I thought so! The Last Laugh features today's hottest comics, including headliners from top-rated cable comedy shows. Can I interest you in a free pass for two to our club for this weekend?"

Ugh.

Now, this was before the days of fancy computer operations. I had an old-style touch-tone phone and a phonebook. We were under explicit instructions to ask for the person in the listing.

So, do you know who's home in the middle of the day? The unemployed, the elderly, sick people, and people who work the night shift. Very few of these folks are interested in free passes (with a two-drink minimum...) to a comedy club, and even fewer of them appreciate being awakened from their nap for the offer. I was hung up on. A lot. This exchange stayed in my memory:

Me: Hello, may I please speak with Mr. Edward Thomas?

[long, uncomfortable pause]

Fragile-sounding elderly voice on the other end: Who's calling, please?

Me: Hi there, my name is Andy, and I'm calling from the Last Laugh Comedy Club in downtown Portland. Is Mr. Thomas available?

Fragile voice: [after another awkward pause] Mr. Thomas has been dead for ten years, sir.

Me: [thinking silently, then why is he still in the white pages?!?!!?!] Oh. Ermm...well...I'm sorry to have bothered you...

That was one of the more successful conversations. The goal was to get them to give us their address so we could mail the flyer, which presumably they would present upon entry. The reason we were required to speak only with the person listed in the phonebook was because the management wanted to be sure we were sending the flyers to actual people; on my first day, the guy sitting next to me got reamed out by Mr. Hot Shot because a flyer came back marked "undeliverable." It was addressed to a guy named...Jim Shorts.

On my second day, Mr. Hot Shot told me I was "a natural" and that I had a really good "schpiel." This made me feel icky and it began to dawn on me that this was not actually a temp job, but professional limbo, where I supposed to linger indefinitely between hell and New York.

I called the temp agency back, explained that I was not comfortable in that environment, and asked if something else might be available. The receptionist who took my call was cheery and supportive and understanding and said, "No problem, Andy."

Except, she forgot to tell the person who assigned me. Which meant that no one told Mr. Hot Shot. So when I didn't show up the next day, he called the agency. The staffer called me and demanded to know why I hadn't gone to work; my explanation that I called yesterday and asked to be reassigned fell on deaf ears. "You embarrassed me in front of my client!" she shrieked, before hanging up on me.

I took a job at the mall, instead.

Greetings from a Fake American

2008-10-23T16:41:00.002-04:00

I haven't written very much about the political world recently. Frankly, the prospect of a McCain presidency, however depressing and terrifying, is presently so unlikely that it animates me less than the prospect of a Hillary Clinton presidency did during the primaries. (And, in a couple of weeks, I presume I will be receiving apologies from the Clintonistas out there who insisted that Obama would be powerless in the face of constant Ayers/Wright/Hussein smears from the right.)

Don't get me wrong; it's not in the bag and Obama is right to warn against complacency. In one respect, this will be a fairly close election: I would be very surprised if Obama is more than five points ahead of McCain when the popular vote is tallied. However, I think the Democrats' electoral strategy is solid, and I'm glad our hopes aren't pinned on Ohio and Florida. Barack doesn't need either of them to win; this year he needs Pennsylvania and Virginia. If he gets those two, it's over. He can lose Colorado, New Mexico, Missouri, Nevada, Ohio, Florida, Indiana and North Carolina -- and he'll win at least some of them -- and still take the election. (I base that on the assumption that Obama wins CA, CT, DC, DE, HI, IA, IL, MA, MD, ME, MI, MN, NH, NJ, NY, OR, PA, RI, VA, VT, WA & WI for a total of 272 electoral votes.)

I guess now is also a fine time to admit that I was wrong on this point.

However, I am being roused out of my blogging apathy by the recent common mantra from the McCain campaign and their supporters that they somehow represent "real" America. First there was John McCain's brother, who said that northern Virginia was "communist country," which was echoed by McCain spokesperson Nancy Pfotenhauer when she talked about "real Virginia." Touting "small-town" values had always been a part of Sarah Palin's campaign schtick, but then she had to go off in North Carolina and talk about "real America," saying, "the best of America is in these small towns that we get to visit," and lauded them for their "pro-America" stance. (She has since apologized for those remarks.) Rep. Michelle Bachman of Minnesota called for an "expose" of anti-American members of Congress.

So much for George W. Bush's 2000 strategy of campaigning on a message of bipartisanship and his famously worthless oath to be "a uniter, not a divider." We've now reached a point where supposedly serious people can say with a straight face that only parts of this country are "real" or "pro-America," and we have a candidate for the White House who can somehow claim that grass-roots efforts to register first time voters and get them to take advantage of the primary fundamental right bestowed on us by the Founders threatens to destroy "the fabric of democracy."

Yesterday, McCain and Palin clarified their stance in an interview to air tonight on NBC. In response to a request from Brian Williams to define what they meant by "elite," Palin said this: "Oh, I guess just people who think that they're better than anyone else."

McCain went on to elaborate that by "elite" he means the folks who live "in our nation's capital and in New York City," adding, "Who think that they can dictate what they believe to America rather than let Americans decide for themselves."

Okay, so...wow.

Because, you know, our country's largest city and of course the capital don't have any "hard-working, middle-class Americans," just atheist feminist socialist gay-married immigrant welfare queens who drive Priuses, instead of American-made Cadillacs, on their way to abortion parties with a bottle of chardonnay in one hand and the Koran in the other.

The rhetoric from the right really is that bizarre these days. Consider Rep. Robin Hayes of North Carolina, who tried to deny that he warmed up a McCain rally crowd by saying, "liberals hate real Americans that work and accomplish and achieve and believe in God" before he was exposed by a tape of the event.

You know, look: I'm a liberal. I'm gay, I drive a Honda, I live in an infamously progressive city, I believe climate change is real and has human causes, I think healthcare is a fundamental human right, I think the Iraq war was a mistake, I do not believe that all Muslims are terrorists, and I happen to like sushi, goat cheese, lattes, pinot noir and imported vodka. I supported Obama against Hillary in the primaries because she's too conservative for me. (Well, and she's a liar.) Sue me. But dangit, I was born in this country, I work hard (and make roughly one-fifth of Joe the Plumber's salary, apparently), I pay taxes and I frickin' go to church and believe in God. And I vote. I don't "hate" hard-working religious Americans, I am one.

The Republican Party, as embodied today by John McCain, has no message for the country and no vision for the future aside from a rude, non-sensical belief that (at least) half the country is fake, unpatriotic, hateful, lazy, elitist and amoral. Their ideas and policies are so exhausted and bankrupt that their last remaining argument is a spurious claim that they represent the "real" America. No wonder conservatives of principle are deserting in droves to endorse Obama.

Flew the Coop

2008-10-19T18:34:00.000-04:00

Well, I guess you can't make chicken paprika without chicken.

I bought chicken, but it seems not to have made it into the shopping bag I brought home. I would go back to the store for it, but that was, oh, four hours ago now. What I can't believe is that I unpacked all my groceries when I got home and didn't notice. I only made the sad discovery once I set everything out on the counter five minutes ago to start cooking and couldn't find the chicken in the refrigerator.

I am an idiot.

Opera Review: Elektra in Seattle

2008-10-18T23:32:00.003-04:00

There was much to admire on the opening night of Seattle Opera's Elektra by Richard Strauss, but nonetheless I have to admit I came away a bit disappointed.

Taking on the title role, soprano Janice Baird -- who became famous earlier this year when she made her Met debut jumping into the middle of an in-progress Tristan und Isolde -- sang the smartest, most secure Elektra I've ever heard. Though it took her a few minutes for the voice to gain full power and lustre, she sang radiantly through her nearly two hours on stage, and finished sounding like she was ready to do it again. Everything was wonderfully aligned, her rich tone shimmered up and down the scale, and her high notes were perfectly in tune and vibrant, whether she was singing full out or sweetly and delicately in the second half of the recognition scene. Unlike many Elektras -- who shriek, wail, scoop, caterwaul and sometimes actually scream to get through the killer role -- Baird was completely in control...which was part of the problem. You see, Elektra is not in control. Elektra is nuts.

Now, I'm not saying a wonderful artist with a long, promising career ahead of her should sabotage her vocal future by adopting all the vulgarities of her colleagues, but Baird just didn't convey much of Elektra's shattered personality. Her vocal restraint was mirrored by her physical performance. This is a woman so obsessed with revenge that it's literally what keeps her alive: at the end of the opera, she simply drops dead from relief. Baird didn't begin to approach the necessary level of fixation and desperation. But damn, she can sing.

As her sister Chrysothemis, German soprano Irmgard Vilsmaier was much more succesful in protraying the fragile, jumpy, shell-shocked survivor of an abusive househould. She looked like she'd shriek if you said "boo." Which is a safe bet, because she did shriek. A lot.

At first she displayed a rich, warm voice, but soon ran out of steam in the high-flying aria "Ich kann nicht sitzen," stumbling badly on the climactic high B-flat. She did the same thing on the high B in the final duet, finding herself unable to sustain the tone for the full duration the score requires, almost causing an orchestral fender-bender in the process. Maybe she was ill or just having an especially bad night? If not...I think she needs to visit mezzo-land, where she might thrive at lower altitudes.

Veteran mezzo Rosalind Plowright as Queen Klytaemnestra was a horror. (In a good way. ) Finally we got some old-fashioned scenery-chewing and a healthy balance of good singing and cheesy vocal histrionics. (Her "und schlachte, schlachte, schlachte Opfer um Opfer" was a particular highlight.)

Alfred Walker sang a beautiful, if not particularly passionate, Orest. Gorgeous voice, but we could have used a little more personality and warmth after he revealed his identity to his long-lost sister. I'm not clear why Richard Margison -- a sturdy and reliable if not especially compelling tenor who has sung all the leading roles in all the great houses of the world -- took on the brief and ungrateful role of Aegisthus, usually reserved for tenors who are on their way out. He sounded fine to me...when you could hear him. I don't know where he was during the murder scene, but he was utterly inaudible. "Help, murder! Doesn't anyone hear me?" read the supertitles.

No, actually, we didn't. I'm sure it wasn't Margison's fault, because we couldn't hear the chorus, either, in the glorious finale. I was in the chorus as an apprentice at Santa Fe, so I know what to listen for, and it just wasn't there. They should fix that.

Among the smaller roles, mezzo Melissa Parks as the Third Servant was a standout, with a powerful, voluptuous tone.

The production, by Chris Alexander, was only so-so. Wolfram Skalicki's set gave no hint of classical Greece and instead looked like it was borrowed from one of those corny episodes of Stargate Atlantis on SciFi, where they visit yet another new planet where everyone seems to be living in medieval England and the climate looks just like British Columbia. Alexander missed that Elektra is a very, very lonely opera. Aside from the opening bit with the five maids and the overseer and Klytaemnestra's entrace, there are never more than two singers on stage at a time. This production was too busy; instead of staging a goofy battle between Orestes' men (where did they come from?) and the palace guards (who looked like they wandered in from Monty Python's Holy Grail), complete with clanking swords and unconvincing grunts from the actors distracting from the gorgeous music, if they felt they needed more people on stage, they should have just trotted out the chorus, so we could hear them.

Under Lawrence Renes the Seattle Opera Orchestra played magnificently. McCaw Hall is my new favorite opera house, not least because of the wonderful acoustics. I'll be back in the early spring for their Erwartung/Bluebeard's Castle double bill.

Grey Goose Was Made for Drinking, Not Bashing

2008-10-12T08:10:00.003-04:00

A disturbing story via Andrew Sullivan.

Oh, and ps, Maureen Dowd still sucks. Or, should I say, Maureen Dowd etiam combibo.

OH! and PPS, we are 100 days away from the end of the Bush Presidency. Can I get a "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah"?

Opera Review: Salome in Hi-Def

2008-10-11T13:51:00.001-04:00

First, a note to the Met website people: please post the complete cast list, not just the principal artists. Because this information is unavailable, I'll have to refer to some performers by character name only.

Today's live high-definition broadcast of Richard Strauss' Salome from the stage of the Metropolitan Opera reminded me again how valuable this project is. In addition to being a front-row seat to a world-class performance at semi-reasonable prices ($24 in the movie theater, versus $275 for orchestra prime in the house), viewers get a rare chance to see what's going on behind the scenes at the performance. Salome, being a single, salacious one-acter, had no intermission features, but we were treated to a brief introduction by dramatic soprano Deborah Voigt moonlighting as host. We were there for the moment when the afternoon's star, soprano Karita Mattila, opened the door of her dressing room, beamed into the camera and said, in faintly Finnish-tinted English, "Let's kick ass!" as the camera followed her to the stage.

And kick ass, she did.

There's a special place in my heart for Salome, not just because it's kinda twisted: it was the occasion of my European debut in November 2000, in the teeny role of the Cappadocian at the Zurich Opera under the baton of Valery Gergiev. Plus, where else can you get a Bible story featuring nude dancing as told by Oscar Wilde and set to music by my favorite composer? How can you go wrong?

The amazing thing about Salome is that it still seems shocking and modern 103 years after its premiere. It's two decades older than Turandot, but still comes off edgy and risqué. The audience for today's broadcast at Cedar Mill Crossing in Beaverton -- also generally two decades older than Turandot -- visibly and audibly shifted in their seats in discomfort at some of the purpler moments. They may have thought they were ready to see a woman sing to a severed head (though, the lady behind me too loudly commented that the head in question was unnecessarily realistic), but they were unprepared for the subtitles to reveal just what it is that she's singing: "You would not let me kiss your mouth, Jochanaan, but I will kiss it now! I will bite it with my teeth, as one bites a ripe fruit." Good stuff.

In the title role, Karita Mattila gave a glorious performance. Previously when I have heard her live, especially in the similar role of Chrysothemis in the same composer's Elektra, her top lacked focus and could occasionally be dry and husky. Today, however, the highest notes were spun like shining silver threads, even as the high-definition close-ups revealed the physical effort it takes to sing this role. Her middle voice was plummy and opulent and her frequent forays into the chest register were strong and expressive; she sailed through both the high, light lyrical moments and the powerful outbursts of passion and fury. She was fascinating to watch, engaged in every moment; she was petulant, manipulative, charming, seductive, outrageous and unhinged. The opera world should be forever grateful that this artist has been captured for posterity in her prime in this role.

Unfortunately, as the object of her desire, baritone Juha Uusitalo disappointed. His voice lacked the magisterial depth and warmth of the role's greatest exponents, which robbed Jochanaan of his prophetic authority. Even if Strauss envisioned his Baptist as a pompous, sexophobic fundamentalist blowhard, he still wrote beautiful, soaring music for him; I've always viewed Jochanaan as being in something of a permanent trance: wild, staring eyes and torrents of rich sound pouring out of a figure as solid and immovable as a boulder. Uusitalo's physical struggles with the role were a distraction.

Tenor Kim Begley was excellent as the sleazy, manic King Herod; Hungarian mezzo Ildiko Komlosi as his wife Herodias almost upstaged him just by virtue of her resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor, but she sang well, too: her forceful outbursts were as commanding as her easy stage presence.

As the tormented captain Narraboth, tenor Joseph Kaiser looked adorable; the power required to clear Strauss' orchestra eluded him in a couple of spots, but it's evident that he has a pretty voice and knows what he's doing. I'd like to hear him in something else. The Page sang adequately, but did not sound remotely German. In the prize comprimario role of First Nazarene (no, I'm not being snarky, it's really a plum small part) the phenomenal bass (thanks, Met Opera, for not putting his name on the web, sheesh!!!) displayed in spades what Uusitalo's Jochanaan lacked: here was a voice of immense power produced almost effortlessly, with dark bronze rivers of sound welling upward from his golden throat. Despite his ringing, heroic top, he might be too low a bass to comfortably sing Jochanaan, but I hope this is someone the Met is grooming for other roles...King Philip comes to mind. And I might be picky and biased, since clearly I own this part, but David Won as the Cappadocian (I remembered his name from the credits) couldn't possibly have looked less interested in the questions he was asking the First Soldier, mellifluously sung by (name unavailable on the website).

The Met Opera management did alert us via the press that for the broadcast, while Ms. Mattila would indeed go full-monty in the famous Dance of the Seven Veils (or, as Parterre's La Cieca put it, "jam out with her clam out"), the cameras would discretely pan away; as it happened, we got a shot of Herod's delighted leer. I imagine this was, in Janet Jackson's wake, an attempt to avoid the ire of the FCC. Because, you know, it's okay to show a woman's face covered in blood after she's been kissing a decapitated head, but God forbid we see her breasts or, gasp, a little tuft of high-definition fur. This is a century-old opera based on a Bible story, and we still can't handle some of it. Small wonder that it was yanked off the boards of the Met after a single performance in 1907 and banned for twenty-seven years.

On a local technical note, I am wondering if they forgot to turn on some of the speakers at the theater in Beaverton today; I recall being overwhelmed by sound during last season's Macbeth, with the floor literally vibrating. While that may have been a tetch much, today only the speakers directly behind the screen were in operation; the sound was fine, but the experience lacked the visceral thrill -- and part of the point -- of seeing an opera in high-definition in a digital movie theater.

Might Have to Wait Until Next Week to Retire

2008-10-11T08:02:00.000-04:00

The Year-to-Date Rate of Return on my 401(k) is now -41.4%.

Must Have Been Some Crash

2008-10-10T12:03:00.000-04:00

From today's Oregonian:

"Wolf said the 1967 Chevrolet Camaro hardtop was northbound on 135th at high speed when it rolled and came to rest against the side of a home on the corner. A passenger was ejected during the crash. Tualatin Valley Fire & Rescue responders found him on the roof of the home. He was lowered and transported to OHSU."

Who Told You You're Allowed to Rain on My Cookie Parade?

2008-10-10T09:50:00.001-04:00

Damn this economy!!!!!

While driving to work this morning, I heard on NPR that Mother's Cookies filed for bankruptcy and ceased operations. They were unable to get a loan to make payroll.

Those pink and white frosted circus animal cookies were one of my absolute most-needed comfort foods for bad days. Definitive proof that George W. Bush has wrecked the country.

Wonder if That Means Anything?

2008-10-09T07:12:00.000-04:00

Last night I dreamed I moved to San Francisco and forgot to tell my father.

On Reading Revelation Before Bed

2008-10-06T06:56:00.000-04:00

Last night I dreamed I lived in a beautiful old house out in the country, surrounded by eagles and flying leopards.

Rocky & Starbuck at the Feast of St. Francis

2008-10-05T13:42:00.000-04:00

Opera Review: La Traviata

2008-10-05T00:07:00.001-04:00

Hi...okay, I know, I promised a blog about my trip to the beach. It's still coming. Probably. I don't know. I've been busy. I would like to get back to blogging more. We'll see. Anyway, for the three of you still bothering to check this blog, here's a new post.

* * * * *

I didn't mean to be a jerk. Really, I didn't. But when the woman sitting next to me at La Traviata at Portland Opera this evening asked between the 2nd and 3rd acts, "Have you seen this performance before?" I looked at her as if she'd asked, "Purple baby horticulture breadfruit shirking?" I sort of cocked my head and said, "I'm sorry, what was the question?" She smiled and repeated earnestly, "Have you seen this performance before?"

Well...what could I say? To an opera fan, the performance is what's happening that evening. To me, it was tantamount to asking, "Have you experienced these exact three hours in time before?" The production is the series of performances mounted with this cast, this set, this conductor and this stage director in this house; I suppose that's what she meant, and I could have said no, but she irritated me so I just said, "I have seen La Traviata many times." Which is true. I could have added, "I have sung La Traviata," too, but I wanted the conversation to end.

* * * * *

It was pretty good. I give it a B.

There was much to admire in Stephen Lord's handling of the orchestra, in particular the careful attention to dynamics (the long, steady crescendo and accelerando at the end of the Brindisi, for example), and I especially liked the extra "oomph" in the chords underneath "Prendi, quest'e l'immagine," which seemed to convey the cruel inevitability of the finale. I was glad to hear Alfredo's cabaletta, often cut, but not thrilled with the inclusion of Germont's cabaletta (even more often cut, but for good reason), and not convinced both verses of "Addio del passato" were merited.

The many comprimario roles were ably sung, though Brendan Tuohy's goofy Gastone was annoying. Portland native and local favorite Richard Zeller sang a commanding Germont with excellent legato and easy high notes, although the top sounded a bit woolly. Tenor Richard Troxell did not impress quite as much as he did as last season's Don Jose; though ardently sung, he didn't possess the agility for the Brindisi and struggled with some of the more dramatic passages. "O mio rimmorso" was energetic and for the most part very well done, though it's not traditional to drop out for the last eight bars unless you are going to interpolate the final high-C.

Maria Kanyova's Violetta was uneven, though she received rapturous applause at the curtain call. She has a beautiful, secure lyric soprano voice, but the coloratura fireworks of the first act test her limits. At times she opted for an irreverent straight tone in the cabaletta as an expressive choice, but then her voice lost bloom and sounded amateur. I could tell from the first D-flat that she didn't have an E-flat (at least, not tonight), but she tried it anyway, which was a mistake; you shouldn't cap a perfectly competent "Sempre libera" (a notoriously difficult piece -- though she lagged behind the beat in the roulades) with a screechy high note that's not in the score. If you have it, great. If you don't, Verdi didn't ask for it. It sounded like she stepped on something cold and slimy.

Many of her best moments were in the long duet with Zeller in the second act, which perfectly suits her voice. "Amami, Alfredo" gave me goosebumps. She was excellent in the brief third act, displaying a perfectly shimmery pianissimo at the end of her last aria. Her voice blended beautifully with Troxell's, though their chemistry didn't sizzle to the back of the house.

The production, by James Robinson for Opera Colorado and the Boston Lyric Opera is low-frills but adequate; the first act was suitably opulent, but red gowns in a room with all-red decor was a bit redundant. The all-white set for the first part of Act II made it look as if it were set in winter, though no one aside from Germont seemed dressed for the weather. Directing for Portland Opera, Jennifer Nicoll made some interesting choices, some more successful than others. She badly misjudged the end of the second act, having Alfredo retreat to the wings to the laughter of the chorus, when the clear sentiment of the moment is outrage. I am guessing she is also to blame for turning Gastone into a hybrid of Jar-Jar Binks and Rosie O'Donnell. Otherwise the performance was conventional.

Stay tuned: in two weeks I'll be reviewing opening night of Seattle Opera's Elektra.

Hi...Sorry! Yes, I'm Still Alive

2008-09-29T20:20:00.000-04:00

Hello!

The last week was just kerr-ayyy-zeee busy! and then this weekend I went on another solo retreat at the Oregon Coast, thanks to a co-worker who generously offered me the use of his beach time-share. I had a wonderful, incredibly relaxing, restorative and insightful weekend -- much better than my last attempt! Hopefully I will blog about it sometime real soon, photos and all!

This week, however, I anticipate to be a magnitude 8.9 on the suckitude scale. It's not a lot of fun to be working in corporate finance during an economic crisis that is putting all of the financial planning we've been doing for the last couple of years in jeopardy.

Anyway, I hope to have an update for you soon -- thanks for checking in and for all your kind emails inquiring as to my whereabouts.

Help! I Can't Finish This Book

2008-09-22T16:57:00.000-04:00

I'm stuck. I'm trying to read Robin Lane Fox's The Unauthorized Version: Truth and Fiction in the Bible, but I'm on page 165 and don't think I can go any further.

I really like biblical history; that, to be clear, is not so much history as portrayed by the Bible, but rather the history of the writings themselves -- who wrote it, when, where, why and for whom. It's not going to be everyone's cup of tea; a lot of people just aren't going to be open to the suggestion that Deuteronomy not only wasn't written by Moses, but was composed at the conclusion of the Babylonian exile by Jews returning to Jerusalem seeking to codify and re-establish temple practices and culture that had withered in captivity. See, I find that stuff fascinating.

This book is full of interesting information but there are two huge flaws: structure and style.

The chapters seem out of sequence. Presently I'm stranded in a chapter that seeks to define agreed-upon standards for what constitutes an ancient "historian." I can't help but feel that this probably belongs at the beginning of the book, and, at fourteen pages, is at least nine pages too long. There does seem to be a vague arc; the first chapter talks about the two separate creation traditions that got spliced together in Genesis, and most of the stuff relating to the New Testament is clumped together at the back. But it feels haphazard, and what comes in between does not have a sense of flow or development.

And, oh...the prose. Dull does not begin to cover it. Mr. Fox just has no voice. It's an effort just to turn the page.

There's stuff toward the back I'm interested in, but I feel like what I'm reading now is supposed to be laying the groundwork for what I'm to take away in ensuing pages. I'm tempted, however, to regard it more like an encyclopedia and just skip to what interests me. I'm also tempted just to put it back on the shelf.

Happy Belated Blogoversary To Me

2008-09-21T08:57:00.000-04:00

Oopsie. Missed my own blogoversary, which was September 19. (Thanks, Assisi, for the generous reminder!!!)

The truth is, I'm kind of depressed.

I have a good job, but it's not really a fit. I can't really call it boring, because the pace is frantic and I spend most of my time lurching from crisis to crisis. But not huge, important, world-saving crises, like protecting endangered species. When I get home I am exhausted. I'm good at my job, but it doesn't really play to my talents or passions.

Now, I knew it would be like this going into it. I never thought that my calling in life was to be a corporate tax admin. My circumstances are what they are, and I have to pay the bills, and this is the most money I can make given my skills and experience. So, there it is. Nonetheless, it's kind of a drag sometimes. I don't blog as much because I'm just uninspired; I feel like my creative, analytical brain is atrophying, like a houseplant in a room with bad light.

My social life isn't quite what I'd hoped for, either.

It's not all bad news, though.

Since May I have been working with Integrity and the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon to develop an outreach program on LGBT faith issues, and last Thursday was the project's first outing. I thought about advertising it on the blog, but then I panicked and thought, "Oh...what if it turns out I'm terrible at this?" So I didn't.

The program features a licensed screening of the 2007 documentary For the Bible Tells Me So, followed by a moderated dialogue on homosexuality and the church (hosted by yours truly), and our first event was held at St. John the Evangelist in Milwaukie, Oregon. We had about 25 people show up, and it was a wonderful experience.

To be honest, it was a little bit like preaching to the choir, or at least the parents of the choir; no one was hostile or unreceptive to the issue. I heard some incredible and moving stories; there were elderly parents of a gay man there and they recognized their own journey of reconciliation in the film, and a man whose son had married a woman who turned out to be a lesbian. Another woman shared that she had a transgender brother. The vast majority of attendees were heterosexual.

I left feeling excited and inspired. When I come home from work, I feel literally physically heavy, like I have lead in my blood, but on that night I felt alive. I need to do more of this. Fortunately, I have at least two more "gigs" on the line, one in Monmouth, Oregon at the end of October and another at my own parish, date TBD. (Note to self: talk to rector today!) I need to try to get more opportunities like this, and maybe someday I can even branch out of the Episcopal Church to face a more skeptical audience.

Why I Don't Like Sarah Palin, Continued

2008-09-21T01:29:00.003-04:00

She's totally Christy Masters from Romy & Michele's High School Reunion.

Andy Declares War on Sarah Palin

2008-09-13T07:21:00.001-04:00

BREAKING NEWS: A personal friend of Governor Palin's revealed to ABC news this horrifying secret: "She doesn't care for cats."

A spokesperson for Rocky and Starbuck this morning responded, "The feeling is entirely mutual."

Earmarks vs Pork

2008-09-12T16:46:00.003-04:00

One of the strangest themes of John McCain's campaign is his crusade against earmarks.

Congress exists to write and pass laws, yes. But another important job is to take taxpayers' money and divvy it up in appropriate ways, to determine how this money can most effectively be spent. We voters send our representatives and senators to Congress to fight for our piece of that pie. This is how Congress works; this is how Congress was intended to work. Specifically, "under Article I, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution, Congress has the power to direct appropriations of money drawn from the national treasury. This includes the power to "earmark" funds it appropriates to specifically designated projects."

An "earmark" is just a piece of tax pie that Congress decides will be set aside for a particular program or project. Earmarks help fund all manner of projects, from public transportation to education and research. The Iraq Study Group was funded through earmarks. Earmarks can also be used for the national infrastructure like, oh, I don't know, let's say...umm...levees in New Orleans and, um, bridges in Minneapolis. Not incidentally, all of our aid to Israel is earmarked. Is John McCain really opposing aid for Israel?

Now, let's be honest: Congress is not infallible. Sometimes they screw up. Sometimes they want to fund projects for political purposes that will cost the taxpayers more than they will yield in public benefit; that's not an earmark, that's pork.

In the second part of her interview with ABC's Charles Gibson that will air tonight, Governor Palin will say this: "And it's not inappropriate for a mayor or for a governor to request and to work with their Congress and their congressmen, their congresswomen, to plug into the federal budget along with every other state a share of the federal budget for infrastructure."

That's right. That is one of the main responsibilities of Congress. No argument from me.

But this statement comes in response to a reasonable question about her repeated claim to have "told Congress thanks, but no thanks, on that Bridge to Nowhere."

The plain fact of the matter is that Congress stripped the earmark of funds for the bridge in November 2005.

Sarah Palin did not become Governor of Alaska until 2007.

In fact, as she campaigned in late 2006, she expressed support for the bridge.

The first time Sarah Palin told Congress "thanks, but no thanks," was at the Republican National Convention in August 2008, almost three years after the bridge became a national laughingstock.

That's not change you can believe in.
But wait, this gets better. Recently McCain and Palin accused Barack Obama of requesting "nearly $1 billion" in earmarks for the state of Illinois. But Obama has requested no earmarks for 2008, and in 2007 only $311 million, which works out to $25 per Illinois resident.

This year, Sarah Palin asked Congress for $198 million in earmarks. That's $295 per Alaska citizen. In 2007, she requested $256 million. While she was mayor of the tiny town of Wasilla, she hired a Jack Abramoff-affiliated lobbyist and secured "14 earmarks totaling $27 million."

Here are some sterling examples of recent Alaska "earmarks."

Unorthodox

2008-09-05T16:59:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow I am attending the bar-mitzvah of the autistic son of two gay men, one Jewish, one Episcopalian, being held at a Presbyterian church.

Is it too much to hope for kugel at the reception?

Why Sarah Palin's Family is Fair Game

2008-09-03T20:03:00.003-04:00

"I have said before and I will repeat again: People's families are off limits," Democratic presidential nominee Barack Obama said on Tuesday. "And people's children are especially off-limits. This shouldn't be part of our politics. It has no relevance to Governor Palin's performance as a governor or her potential performance as a vice president. So I would strongly urge people to back off these kinds of stories. You know my mother had me when she was 18 and how a family deals with issues and teenage children, that shouldn’t be a topic of our politics."

Noble words, with which I'd happily be first to concur. But no...not until I hear the same principled stance from Republican activists who have made discrimination and fear-mongering a rallying cry and make people like me political props in their campaign of distraction.

The 2008 Republican Party Platform explicitly calls for writing discrimination into the Constitution, seeking both to deny same-sex couples the right to marry and to deprive the courts of their proper role in protecting the civil rights of all citizens from the tyranny of the (shrinking) majority.

Their defense of "traditional" marriage is lined with all the discredited tropes of the waning anti-gay movement. They insist that restricting marriage to heterosexual couples protects "our children's future," although the government neither requires nor recognizes procreative intent or capability as a characteristic of civil marriage. The platform paints a disparaging view of children who grow up "in homes without fathers," while failing to note that the research they cite exclusively refers to the children of heterosexual mothers whose fathers chose not to live up to their responsibilities, not the children of committed same-sex partners. We are meant to ignore that some children of single-parent households turn out just fine (see Obama, Barack) and others have two fathers.

You see, according to Republicans like Sarah Palin, a family like this one is a better place for children than this one. The belief that any pairing of married heterosexual parents provides a stabler, healthier home than any same-sex couple could possibly offer is just not born out by any sort of evidence, at all.

Never mind their foreign policy disasters or the tanking economy -- look out! Here come Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi! Give me a break.

This is not a trivial issue. Palin and her ilk have literally campaigned on the promise to protect America from gay bogeymen (and women). Sure, in an ideal world, Bristol Palin and her circumstances would be irrelevant. They should be. And so should the private lives of millions of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Americans, taxpaying, hard-working citizens. But when the RNC uses us to scare up voters, I refuse to sit idly by and not point out the egregious hypocrisy of people like Sarah Palin.

So Bristol Palin is 17, pregnant, and scheduled to marry the teenage father. Now, who knows? Maybe these two are genuinely in love and will live a happy, committed life together. It's entirely possible. My grandmother was pregnant (turns out, with someone else's child, my father) when she married her husband, and they're still married 65 years later and raised three kids, two of whom are divorced. But the research shows that pregnant brides are 50% more likely to get divorced, and that's factoring in a heterosexual divorce rate that isn't anything to be proud of.

Here's why Sarah Palin's family matters. You won't find anyone to argue that Bristol was being responsible by getting pregnant while unmarried and still in high school, even if they now assert she's doing the right thing by marrying the charming father. Though McCain aides may protest that the "liberal media" is smearing Palin's family, it was the GOP that first trotted out the Palins as a model to be emulated.

If you agree with Barack Obama that this subject should be off-limits, then you're at odds with James Dobson, whose activist organization Focus on the Family -- note the name -- is at least as political as it is religious. Here's his statement on the Bristol Palin situation.

Now, let's reflect back on his comments regarding the daughter of a sitting vice president who got pregnant outside the bonds of civil marriage.

Seventeen year-old Bristol Palin is about to marry a fellow teenager; they will have full government recognition and protection for a relationship that is, let's face it, a last-ditch attempt to make right a stupid mistake made in a brief moment of passion. Sarah Palin thinks this is just great. Yet compare that to Mary Cheney, who had been in a committed relationship with her partner for 15 years when they made the conscious decision to raise a child. (They're now at 17 years together, 6 years past the average heterosexual marriage duration of 11 years.) Sarah Palin thinks that Mary and Heather deserve no recognition or protection; Mary is the biological mother, so in the unfortunate event of her death, Sarah insists that Heather has no claim to the child. Sarah thinks Heather should not have been allowed to be present in the hospital for the birth, nor should she be allowed to be with Mary in the hospital under any circumstances. The couple, according to Palin, is not entitled to any insurance, inheritance or social security benefits.

Sarah Palin is receiving heaps of praise for supporting her teenage daughter's decision to have a child before she even completes high school and to marry another student who openly boasted on his MySpace profile that he doesn't want kids while simultaneously insisting that Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon, who had been in a committed relationship longer than Sarah has been alive, deserve no protection or recognition.

John McCain, Sarah Palin's running mate, cheated during his first marriage which ended in divorce.

Gay folk get scapegoated for the political gain and moral failures of uninformed ideologues like Sarah Palin, John McCain, Rudy Giuliani, and David Vitter. I will heed Barack Obama's call to leave her family alone just as soon as she stops blaming me for everything that is wrong with heterosexual marriage.

Republican, heal thyself.

The Straight Talk Express

2008-09-01T22:30:00.001-04:00

PBS Gets Catty

2008-09-01T21:37:00.000-04:00

I set the DVR to record the Republican National Convention. Of course, the program has been adjusted in light of Hurricane Gustav.

The first hour was replaced by Antiques Roadshow.

Andy for GOP Secretary of State

2008-09-01T08:59:00.003-04:00

If John McCain wins in November, I think based on my extensive foreign policy experience that he should definitely consider me for Secretary of State.

First off, I was born in the State of Washington, which is on the border with Canada, and I have even visited Victoria. I grew up in Oregon, which is right across the water from Korea, which means that I am familiar with the threat posed by Kim Jong Il. After a year in Los Angeles (which is close to Mexico), I spent nearly fourteen years in Manhattan, which, as everyone knows, is the home of the United Nations.

In high school I traveled as an exchange student to Japan, which is close to China. I also visited Hawaii, which has only been a state since 1959 and so barely counts as the U.S., which is why Barack Obama is only kinda-sorta an American. From 2000-2001 I lived for 10.5 months in Zurich, Switzerland, which is a real diplomaticky sort of place, and I spent a major percentage of my time there as an ambassador for our nation, explaining to the citizens of "Old Europe" why it was that the candidate who received fewer popular votes was actually the rightful winner of the election and assuring them that, despite what they had heard about George W. Bush, everything would be fine. "What's he going to do," I asked them. "Start a war?"

During this time I also sang for the Mayor of Zurich and the President of Switzerland. I have met hundreds, if not thousands, of queens.

In addition to Switzerland, Canada, Japan and the Kingdom of Hawaii, I have also traveled to Mexico, the United Kingdom, Germany, France and Italy. While in London, I saw Buckingham Palace. I speak fluent English, conversational German, passable Italian and can read French. Perhaps more importantly for present times, I have sung in Russian, Spanish and Hebrew. I also took three years of Japanese in high school, and once slept with the son of a Brazilian diplomat. (Okay, twice.) Oh! and a friend of mine is married to woman from Zimbabwe.

I have never been to Washington, D.C., but this just means that I would confirm McCain's outside-the-beltway-box thinking and his maverickyness.

Though I admit I have never served on the PTA, my stepfather was a teacher. I was elected to the Vestry in January of 2008, which means I have held elected office longer than Barack Obama has been the Democratic nominee.

Given the depth and range of my foreign policy experiences, I believe I would make an outstanding Republican Secretary of State. Oh, and as for the vetting process, I assure you that Rocky and Starbuck are up to date on licenses and vaccinations. Thank you.

*******

PS, on an unrelated note, prayers for the people of New Orleans.

A Bold Prediction

2008-08-31T16:45:00.001-04:00

Sarah Palin will not be on the ballot in November. She may well withdraw from the ticket by the end of the week.

Feminism's Big Leap

2008-08-29T14:19:00.000-04:00

Senator John McCain and Governor Sarah Palin just advanced the cause of women's rights further than Hillary Clinton ever could have, even if she'd won the Democratic nomination. How? By unintentionally making gender irrelevant.

The selection of Governor Palin was an obvious play for the so-called "disaffected Hillary vote," which I believe is a politically insignificant bloc. The proudly defiant Hillary holdouts tout her 18 million primary votes as evidence of a deeply divided Democratic party, yet Barack Obama was made the nominee by unanimous acclamation, at the behest of Senator Clinton herself. Yes, Hillary came in a very close second and she has many passionate supporters, but the rumors of a sundered party have been greatly exaggerated by a media that seems to prefer that narrative to the one that plainly unfolded in front of them. (Or, behind them; how maddening to see the cable news talking heads bloviating and arguing with each other, flat-out ignoring the actual convention and, in one salient case, failing to air one of the best speeches of the week. Note to Keith Olbermann: I feel I need to see other people for a while. I will not watch your coverage of the GOP convention and will instead go back to PBS.) The media went chasing after Hillary supporters trying to keep their storyline alive, but failed to locate one single prominent Democrat or even any significant gathering of dissidents; when the PUMA's retire Hillary's debt or can get 75,000 people into a stadium, maybe I'll reconsider.

John McCain and Karl Rove may think they're picking up a crucial swing vote of angry feminists, but really they are only courting sexist women. The triumph of feminism will not be the first woman president, but rather the first election when we stop falling all over ourselves to discuss whether gender has any relevance to a person's qualifications for the job.

That seems to be where the Hillary die-hards went wrong; it's fine to prefer Hillary to Barack, but over on sites like No Quarter, you don't hear wonky discussions of the minute policy differences between the two; you hear gripes about the way Hillary was treated by the party that boasts the first female Speaker of the House and six women governors and, of course, baseless, frenzied slander about Michelle Obama's alleged secret radical agenda.

Awash in righteous umbrage over the Democratic Party's alleged machinations to deprive Senator Clinton of the nomination, they vow to teach the Dems a lesson by realigning themselves with John McCain, promptly misrepresenting his position on reproductive freedom in the process. But what is the lesson and who's getting schooled? Do they aim to teach us that gender trumps policy, competence and integrity? And do they propose to do that by electing a president who opposes equal pay for women? Are we seriously to believe that this is some kind of principled stance?

Enter Governor Palin, who by virtue of her gender has, instead of becoming a coup for the GOP ticket, completely neutralized the debate. Supporters of Hillary Clinton, who were understandably disappointed by the primary, now have another chance to put a woman into the White House. But should they?

Surely the media will hype this as a "dilemma" for women, just as they openly pondered just a few months ago whether black women would support Barack or Hillary, a blatantly sexist and racist question that reduced these voters to identity politics and glossed over the possibility that they might actually be considering the candidates on their respective merits. But it's not a dilemma, it's an opportunity.

"Were you in this campaign just for me?" asked Senator Clinton of her supporters this past week. Now with Sarah Palin on the ballot, Clinton voters have to accept Hillary's challenge to answer that question in a thoughtful manner. Because you could vote for McCain - Palin and have our nation's first woman vice president, but in order to do so, you'd have to support a litany of policies that are in direct opposition to everything Hillary Clinton believes and has worked so hard to achieve.

Inspirational

2008-08-27T21:10:00.000-04:00

While listening to Senator Harry Reid, I suddenly realized I had not cleaned the litter box today.

A Home Run for Hillary

2008-08-26T23:10:00.001-04:00

I think there's small chance Barack's speech will be anywhere near as good as Hillary's. Well done. No way, no how, no McCain. Sweet!

Knock, Knock

2008-08-26T21:28:00.000-04:00

Hey did you hear the one about John McCain and his seven homes?

Come on, Democrats. You're all taking the same cheap shot. Don't any of you have anything of substance to say?

(And wow, I am really glad right now Obama didn't pick Sebelius as Veep. BO-ring. And yet, positively riveting compared to last night's appearance by Pelosi.)

I Have a Sinking Feeling About This

2008-08-24T20:42:00.000-04:00

This show on Discovery about whether Noah's Ark and the flood were real is absolutely terrible.

Missing You

2008-08-24T19:00:00.000-04:00

Almighty and everlasting God, who gave to your apostle Bartholomew grace truly to believe and to preach your Word: Grant that your Church may love what he believed and preach what he taught; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

I've been rather melancholy all day, perhaps because it's the Feast of St. Bartholomew, and my thoughts have wandered to my old parish by that name back in New York City. I definitely feel that I was "led" to where I am now in Portland, but St. Bart's will always be a very special place for me, and I miss the beautiful building, the amazing clergy and my many friends. And, oh yes, I miss the choir, and the seamless liturgy. St. John the Baptist is earnest and sincere and wonderful, but I always have the sense that we're still rehearsing.