A Matter of Color

I just plain don't get it. Racial prejudice, that is. People come in all shapes and sizes of good, middlin'good, average, naughty, and downright nasty, and not a lick of it depends on what their exterior color scheme is. So why do some people insist that all those whose skin color happens to be a different shade from their own are inherently 'less than'? It just doesn't make sense to me.

For those who insist that the Bible holds the absolute literal, inerrant truth word for word, how can racial prejudice creep into their worldview? Take the second creation story, the story of Adam and Eve. If you believe that all of humanity arises from just that one couple, then it doesn't matter what we look like on the outside, because we're all relatives in our core being - our DNA. (I will have to admit a bit of skepticism for this creation myth. If we all come from just Adam and just Eve, where did the people of Nod and Cain's wife come from? It's not until much later, as in after the birth of Seth, that the scriptures acknowledge that Adam and Eve had both sons and daughters. The first creation story - male and female God created them, however many them was - seems more plausible.)

Or if that account doesn't work for you, what about the Flood narrative? All of humanity was wiped off the face of the earth, except for Noah, his wife, his three sons, and their wives. Are those who insist on racial prejudice saying that the various races arise from these four couples? Again, how could that be? The basic DNA for all future generations would seem to have a huge dose of Noah in it, so don't we return to the point where we're all relatives at the core of our being?

So why do so many insist that one's skin color is sufficient rationale for vicious violence against another? What is it that causes 'different' to be an okay reason for hatred? I just plain don't understand it! Would one of you racially prejudiced people out there care to explain? Problem is, I probably wouldn't understand your answer, whatever it happens to be. *sigh*

Disaster Recovery Blues

Is it my imagination, or are people seeming to be, well, frailer right now? I know it's allergy season and people tend to get clobbered by pollen this time of year, but it seems like there's more going around this year. I seem to be noticing that we're a bit more frazzled and disconnected than usual - or at least that's what I'm experiencing. I've never been the world's best organizer, so that part of it is not a surprise. However I seem to have mislaid several months as well.

To put things into context, there are still over 12,000 homes in Jefferson County alone with 'blue roofs' (that is, they still have fairly significant holes in their roofs and only have tarps to keep the rain away - and those aren't completely reliable, and were expected to last only six months). So, no, we aren't back to normal yet and it will be years (not just months) before we get there.

We're also approaching hurricane season again. I think that may be playing into some of it. There's an edge of fear that seems to ride right at the fringe of one's vision. My confident and jaunty remark when people ask the resident theologian if we're having a hurricane this year is: NO! I try not to let people see that I'm afraid of what will happen if the answer is yes. Maybe I should.

I'm still not back in my home. Oh! I could actually live in the house. There are people in the area living in homes in much worse condition than mine. Mine does have an intact, functioning roof, and it's much better off than many of the unrepaired homes in the area. But I have a safe place to stay where the utilities are reasonable (without a ceiling in my house, I'd be air conditioning the entire attic - no fun in Beaumont heat and humidity!). It's just not home, though.

My brain knows that all of what I'm feeling is normal for the situation. I just wish the situation would go away and LEAVE ME ALONE! What I'd really like to do right now is stand in the middle of my broken house with some good friends around me and have a good cry. But that's not going to happen any time soon. *sigh* *very deep sigh* Somehow I just can't quite get beyond the saying it's what I want to do and actually do it. I'm not quite sure why that feels like such a scary proposition, but it does. Maybe it's just a part of the recovery process for me. We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

Time in a Bottle

Well, we'd planned to finish things up last December, but Rita knocked us into the 'weird zone'. In fact, my time-sense is so messed up I'm still not sure we've entered 2006. So maybe it's fitting that we'll finish up our 125th anniversary celebration on Presbyterian Heritage Sunday next month instead of on New Year's Eve 2005.

We had a grand time last year when we discovered a time capsule behind our cornerstone on the weekend of our anniversary kickoff. There were all sorts of interesting and wonderful things in it from 1910 when the sanctuary was built. It was fun to see the local newspapers, the Sunday school materials, the lists of people in leadership positions, the Bible from the Civil War era, the church cookbook, the coins and that little business card declaring its owner's new phone number: 363!

Now it's our turn to put together items for a time capsule. What do you think people 25, 50, 100 years in the future would find interesting? It would be cool to put together a dvd of the events throughout the past year, but then how could we be sure that there would be a functioning dvd player in the future? Just look at how quickly technology has changed in the past 10 years! It's beginning to get difficult to find a computer that'll even accept a 3.5" floppy, much less one of the old 5.25" floppies! And we really do want our future cornerstone openers to be able to see what we've put in the box! So..........it's back to good old reliable low-tech for us - newspapers, photos, mementos from our big celebration in 2005, a Then and Now cookbook, a copy of our history to date (as if we could predict the future!), Rita stories, and ..... well, we haven't quite figured out what all the and should be.

Whatever we put in our time capsule, I'm hoping it'll tell our story in ways that intrigue. I'm still wondering why our predecessors put 2 American coins, 2 Mexican coins, and 2 German coins in their time capsule. We're planning on explaining anything like that for our future openers.

Anyone have any suggestions for a symbol representative of Beaumont? We've not gotten that figured out yet. Our predecessors put in a new kind of inkpen, sort of a modified fountain pen, which was only being made in Beaumont at the time. What do you think would work?! It can't be too big because the hole in the wall where the time capsule will go is a tight fit. I'm looking forward to hearing any suggestions!

Reeee-Treat

Just got back from the annual Clergy Retreat. Quite a nice break! Every year after Easter, the presbytery sponsors a three-day respite at our presbytery camp and conference center. The agenda? Relaxation, fun, and food!

Usually there's a speaker or two - the comedy kind. This year we met Hank the Cowdog, Chief of Ranch Security (or his creator, that is, John Erickson), Warren and Junior the buzzards, Sally Mae, and Rip and Snort the local coyotes. We were regaled with Hank stories and buzzard and coyote songs. Hank reminds me of my canine friend Penny as she attempts to skulk her way to swiping my sandwich. I never realized that the books were originally written for adults, not children. My last encounter with Hank was on Reading Rainbow while watching with my then elementary aged son. Doesn't matter. Chuckles abounded! Laughter is good medicine!

So are ping-pong and massages. I've not played ping-pong in years and had a hilarious time yesterday afternoon. Gotta find a regular ping-pong partner just to keep my hand in! It's one of those fun things that I'd forgotten about. As to the massage - well..... let's just say that it's another thing I need to do regularly. I'm actually feeling recharged and ready to move onto the next thing - the wrap-up of our 125th Anniversary!

Then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a few more minutes for rest and relaxation. Now, let's see. What's Hank up to now? Watchout! There's a fishhook in that liver! *slurp*

A "John Denver" mood

I'm in a "John Denver" mood. Let me explain.

One of the bravest things I did after my divorce (when I was a chicken extraordinaire) was to get into my car one lonely Saturday while my son was at his dad's and drive off aimlessly. Now you have to understand that I am directionally-challenged to the max. Can't find my way out of a paper bag, and all that. So driving away from home and heading for wherever I felt drawn without a map or explicit directions was a leap of faith for me. As you might guess by the fact I'm writing this, I made it home intact. The key to the experience? Singing my heart out to John Denver as I drove through the beautiful Austin hill country.

Over the years, driving aimlessly and John Denver music have been essential to my sanity.

As my previous call was beginning its slow disintegration into dust, I was preparing with fear and trembling for that evening's meeting with the church's session and some presbytery representatives who were coming to help us make some decisions in this troubled time. One of the things I did not want to do was break into a puddle of goo at the meeting. Yet I was afraid that that was exactly what might happen.

Fed up with everything, I got into my car and began to drive in the general direction of the nearby Ouachita Mountains, with a John Denver CD randomly stuck into the player.

A couple of months earlier, I had discovered the joys of the online community through chat rooms, and had selected SingingSkies as my screenname from Denver's "Singing Skies and Dancing Waters", which I had only recently heard for the first time.

Not far outside of town, but into the lowest foothills, guess what song began to play. ... Right! I'm semi-mindlessly singing along when I get to the second refrain - "I am with you in singing skies ..." Whoa! That's ME! I was thunder-struck. I quit singing and began to listen closely to the words.

The third verse begins. "If my faith should falter, and I should forsake you, and find myself turning away, will you still be there? Will you still be there?" (oh, my! just exactly what I was thinking) And the answer? "I'll be with you in singing skies and dancing waters, laughing children, growing old, and in the heart and in the spirit and in the truth when it is told!" Amazing! Just exactly the message I needed at that particular moment. And with that message held close to my heart, I made it through that difficult meeting in a state of nonanxious presence, clear that I was valued and not alone, in spite of what the 'loyal opposition' would have liked me to believe.

So .... I'm in a "John Denver" mood today. Not that anything's going wrong, or I'm in a bad place emotionally, or anything negative. Yet driving aimlessly while listening to John Denver music is not economically nor ecologically wise stewardship (and I suspect it would be a dishonor to Denver's legacy of environmentalism). Plus, I've discovered that it always seems to work best when there's something other than flat around. *sigh* Guess I'm gonna have to improvise. Wish me luck!

With a Song in my Head and a...

I've a song stuck in my head. Not that I'm complaining - I like the song. It's our Easter anthem, well a couple of lines of it at any rate.

The piece has a Celtic rhythm to it and a wonderful, lively, moving forward kind of pace. Even though our only accompaniment was piano, I can hear an Irish flautist (or flutist - but I just love the way the first first word feels and sounds!) adding a lilt here and there, running through the melody in joyous counterpoint. You wouldn't be able to hear them in our sanctuary (too much carpet), but my mind envisions a troupe of Irish step-dancers "River Dance"-ing through the room with great energy and life, filling it with excitement. Glorious music! Wonderful words! Musical awe!

And the part where I remember all the words says, "Death has died. Christ is risen from the dead!" Yeah! That's a song worth keeping in one's head for a while. Now, let's see. Where was I? Oh, yeah! dum-dum-dum-dah-da-dum. Death has died. Christ is risen from the dead!

... And We Wait

I just got back from our Paschal Vigil. It's a new service for us, our second year. We don't do the whole whistles and bells - the tradition it comes from starts late in the evening and lasts until after midnight, so the service spans the story of our faith from creation to resurrection and includes reaffirmation of baptism and a celebration of communion.

Since we start ours at about 6pm and will be finished long before midnight, we do the service up through the reaffirmation of baptism ... and we wait, leaving the darkened, black-draped sanctuary in silence. Christ is not yet risen in the context of Holy Week, so we honor the waiting of the disciples in despair at the loss of their beloved Lord.

My first Paschal Vigil was at the seminary before I began to attend. It was a powerful experience and spoke deeply to my soul. Westminster is the first congregation I've been in willing to step out on a limb and venture its own vigil. Last year was learning curve.

This year ........ powerful and healing.

We used last year's service in its entirety: lighting of new fire, following the Christ candle into the sanctuary, hearing our 'family story' in the words of the Old Testament intermingled with silent meditation, a verse of Were You There, and prayer, reaffirmation of baptism.

As each scripture was read, I couldn't help but notice how they spoke to the past six months. The creation story reminded me that God created and declared all of creation good. The Exodus story brought me safely through the storm - an assurance that God is with me through the difficult times, including my current wilderness wandering and journey toward a promised land of restored home. The Ezekiel 'dry bones' story spoke to my despair and sense that life is 'dry' by affirming that God can breathe life into what seems lifeless (even if it occurs in life beyond life). And good old Zephaniah carries a promise of restoration. Hope and healing.

It's always awesome when I can actually worship myself while leading a special worship service. For it to speak to me so deeply, is a miracle. So ..... now we wait .................

HUH?!!?

There's a full-page ad in the Chronicle's Religion section today which has the word "HE" and scripture reference after scripture reference, noting who said it, when it was said, and (for Old Testament references) when it was fulfilled in Jesus. The last scripture reference is from John 10:35 - "The Scripture cannot be broken" (NJKV, probably). At the bottom is the group's url.

OK - They succeeded. They got me to look, but only because of a professional interest in the topic. I thoroughly despise proof-texting! Occasionally guilty of it myself, but it's more of a counter-proof-texting than anything. I still try vigorously to avoid it.

As you might guess, it's that quoted reference which blew my gasket - completely taken out of context and only a fragment of the scripture at best. At this point in John, Jesus is telling off the temple Jews who were planning to stone him right there on Solomon's Porch. Here's what Jesus says: "Is it not written in your Law, 'I have said you are gods'? If he called them 'gods,' to whom the word of God came--and the Scripture cannot be broken-- what about the one whom the Father set apart as his very own and sent into the world? Why then do you accuse me of blasphemy because I said, 'I am God's Son'? " (John 10:35-37, NKJV)

The Bible wasn't written in King James' English!! Nor any form of English, for that matter, so stuff, nuances, literal interpretations, get lost in the translation. We do our bumbling best at interpreting what words with multiple definitions might mean in their particular context and culture at the time they were written.

When I have a few extra minutes, I enjoy digging around in what we have of the original languages (even the Greek and Hebrew texts didn't come down to us perfectly - in spite of what some people think. There were humans involved in the process, after all, and we ain't perfect!). I don't really have a few extra minutes today, but took them anyway.

First stop - other English translations. Lo! and behold! There are all sorts of other possibilities. "The scripture cannot be annulled"(NRSV) is one of them.

Second stop - the handy-dandy KJV with Strong's lexicon (tells you which Greek word was being used at that particular point - it can make a difference). The Greek word which shows up as 'broken' above is actually closest to the English word 'loose' - as in to untie or set free something.

Puts a whole different twist on it, once you get the entire context of the scripture. To me, Jesus is saying something like, "OK. In your own texts (not the Torah, btw, but your Wisdom literature, the Psalms), God is calling you gods, and you can't change what's written, so why are you so bent out of shape over me claiming essentially the same thing?"

Another twist is that Jesus calls it "your Law", not God's law. Just seems to me that Jesus was attempting a healthy debate with the biblical literalists, and trying to open closed ears. It certainly doesn't seem to me to be warrant for biblical inerrancy for whatever translation you happen to be using and whatever texts you choose to pluck out of the whole. *sigh*

Shoot! Even the "original" Hebrew texts may not be quite what we think they are! The Hebrew text was initially transmitted by word of mouth. How many times have you played "Gossip", only to discover that the original sentence was nowhere near what came out at the other end? And in its first written forms, Hebrew didn't even use vowels. The consonants were there to ensure the text didn't degrade further. They only went back and added vowel points when someone noticed that Person A wasn't quoting the text quite the same as Person B (maybe the Southern accent clashed with the New England twang?), and in Hebrew an 'a' or an' e' can make a whole lot of differece in the meaning of the word. To me, the miracle is that the words have traveled so well over the years. Have you ever seen vowel points? It wouldn't take much to add an extra dot or smear a line and change one vowel to another!

Anyway ... guess that rant's run down for today. I know I won't change those who buy into the theology of the group that ran the ad. I also don't see them changing me anytime soon. What I believe, however, is that God, through Christ, is big enough for all of us and loves us dearly in spite of all our human foibles. And that's a message worth preaching!

Stained Glass and Smilies

I wasn't sure we'd ever get this far, but our big stained glass window should be fixed in time for Easter! Won't that be glorious? It's the one I get to look at during worship each Sunday - Jesus Knocks. (Well, I can see all three, but this is the one which 'stares me in the face') Even bowed, it's a beautiful window, but it doesn't catch the light the way it did. So I can't wait (even though I know I must) to see it back in place this Sunday.

Our repair guy has a sense of humor. We started off with plastic taped over the gaping hole the window came out of, but the tape didn't stick. Visions of birds fluttering around in the sanctuary (and the resulting splats) led to a semi-frantic phone call and additional tape. When that wasn't a successful solution, a large piece of plywood was used to cover the hole. Yesterday, he must have started the painting portion of the job, for our plywood now boasts a huge smiley face on it in primer!

I'm going to try to put the picture up here. However, I have a huge dash of 'computer idiot' in my dna, so this may not work at all! I took the picture on my cellphone, and have accidentally sent it to the service provider's online site instead of my email. So I'm off to a good start! *chuckle* Now all I've gotta do is figure out how to post it here! Wish me luck!!

I Am

Felt like posting something, but no topic came to mind. Then this pre-seminary poem came up and tugged at my sleeve. So here it is--

I Am

I’m a woman, a mother, a poet, a dreamer;
A song and a hope and a prayer.
I’m a quiet, a calmness,
A silence surrounding;
A whisper that’s almost not there.

I’m a smile and a laugh
And a soul freely winging,
A glance and a secret that’s shared.
I’m a touch, a caress,
And a lullaby singing;
A friend when there’s no one else there.

I’m a tear and a sigh
And a wave of goodbye.
I’m a ghost of a sorrow once known.
I’m a question, an answer;
A searching, a finding;
A puzzle, a probing, a plan.

I’m a faith in a love of my Father Above.
A promise.
Alleluia!
Amen.

(Yes, it's copyrighted. An interesting dilemma, though, if I put the copyright info at the bottom of this, you've got my full name and I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that kind of online visibility. Vulnerable and safe take on different dimensions in this context. hmmmmmmmm)

Displaced Person

After Katrina blew through the Gulf Coast, there was a big ruckus over the correct term to use for those who had fled the storm. While refugee makes sense to me (as in seeking 'refuge from the storm'), it didn't go down well with those who had indeed sought refuge from the storm. And it seems that the dictionary backs them up. In contemporary usage, at least, the word generally applies to those who are fleeing persecution, and that wasn't the case here.

So - we move on to evacuee. Ok ... accurate description for many. They evacuated their homes and hometowns, or were evacuated from their communities in the aftermath. Since that is their chosen term to describe themselves, I can't quibble with it. For them it fits.

But it doesn't work for me. Oddly enough, I didn't evacuate. I was already out of town when the storm-which-shall-not-be named sent people scrambling. I haven't been kept from living in my community due to the devastation. Yet I am not home.

I am a displaced person.

I am currently living in a house about two miles from the place I called home before the storm. It is not my home, and will not be my home. I am blessed with a place to stay, to housesit, while my own house is being repaired. But it is not my furniture that I sit and sleep on, nor my pictures on the walls. My clothes, for the most part, still reside in suitcases. It is not home.

And I cannot call my house my home, either. It is an alien and unwelcoming place right now. I literally cannot tolerate spending more than a few minutes within its walls. Even my belongings within the house are displaced. Yes, there are some things which are where they belong - it's really hard to displace a waterbed! But there is so much which has been moved to garage and floors of other rooms that what one experiences is chaos and jumble. Then there's the barrenness of the rooms which have been stripped of everything in anticipation of restoration to wholeness.

My head says that I'm much better off than so many others. And it's true. However, my heart experiences the emptiness of not being home. Even my family is displaced. My son is at college (well, this would have been true storm or not). My dog is living with me. She would have pined too much to be separated for so long. My cat is staying at my mom's in Houston. You just don't move cats around willy-nilly, and she's already a bit of a psychokat as it is.

My longing is for 'home', that place where one is surrounded by the familiar and memories and belonging (even if it's not the place where one has lived throughout a lifetime), that corner of the world which is suffused with one's identity. But at the moment I have none.