Monday, July 31, 2006

On Being Clergy

Years ago, when the tv show Seventh Heaven first came into being, I watched it regularly. If you've not seen it, it's about a minister, his wife, and their (then) five children. The thing I truly appreciated about the show was that it portrayed something of what it's like to be involved in the ministry.

The family lives in the church manse. At the time, so did I. Occasionally the show had the 'church ladies' treating the manse like their own home - barging in and commenting on how this and that looked, and what their expectations were for the pastor's family - all of the traditional horror stories of pastors living in manses. Fortunately, that wasn't a problem for me. The congregation I was serving respected our privacy and only came over when invited, or upon calling in advance.

Watching the Rev. Camden deal with the various aspects and complications that arise when you're a pastor helped me to feel not so alone in a place where I was pretty isolated. And he wasn't presented as 'perfect pastor' either. Sometimes things got really screwed up! There was so much that I could identify with! (And no, I'm not saying that I was a perpetual screw-up. *chuckle* Although I did, and still do, make my fair share of mistakes.)

Then the show became the 'Camden kids' hour. From week to week, it was the travails of being PKs, with all of the possible horrific combination of things that any kid could get into represented. Admittedly, PKs sometimes appear to get into more trouble than other kids. The expectations that congregations put on them can be overwhelming, especially in small towns.

He may get miffed at me for blogging this, but, while we were in Oklahoma, my son decided that it was important for him to have his name taken off the church rolls. Unbeknownst to me, he was sort of coerced by one of the members into joining in the first place during our first year there. There came a point when he came to a session meeting, stated his position and why, then asked to have his name removed. Not much they could do besides honor his request. I applauded his integrity, and was thrilled that he felt secure enough to take that step. (ok - end of side-track)

Because the show began spending more time on the kids instead of the ministry, I watched, but nowhere near regularly. Then came this year. It was supposed to be the last year of the show with the merger of the WB and UPN, so they were trying to wrap up several storylines.

One of the (more unbelieveable) storylines was that of one of the Camden daughters becoming a minister in her father's church; however, it did bring the show back into some focus on what it's like to be clergy. Watching reruns tonight, I was caught up by the issue of confidentiality which Lucy was trying to honor, while everyone else, INCLUDING her minister father, was trying to find out 'what she was up to'. ARGH!! Ok - ridiculous storyline. But it did bring up the issue of clergy confidenialty and how it functions in a clergy family.

Being a single parent, it wasn't a big problem for me. My son wasn't particularly interested, and certainly wasn't nosy enough to have to know everything that was going on in the church. Yet I wonder how I would deal with it if I were married or in a relationship. Every pastor needs a safe place to vent sometimes, and I have my support system in place (and anything discussed is in terms of hypotheticals, no names, some details changed to protect the innocent and so on). But the dynamics change when there's a spouse or significant other in the picture. I suspect most members expect their pastor shares things with their spouse (but not a significant other) from time to time.

Here's the thing for me, though. If I were to accept information in confidence (and it wasn't something I was legally obligated to report to appropriate authorities), I would feel the need to keep that information to myself. As things stand right now, I can spill the beans all I want to the dog. She's not telling - and is great at commiserating whenever I need a companion. Those puppy-dog eyes speak volumes! Guess I'll just have to believe that I'll be able to maintain my integrity if I should ever get married again, and trust that whoever I marry will be secure and supportive enough to be a part of my life without knowing everything that happens in my work life.

I'll be interested to see how this particular storyline plays out on Seventh Heaven. I don't think I've seen the next couple of episodes, so I haven't a clue as to what will happen next. 'Til then, I'll just have to wonder and imagine.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Idle Musings

Wow! It's almost the end of July, two months into the Atlantic basin hurricane season, and there's only been two named storms and not even an actual hurricane yet! Now, I've been an avid hurricane tracker over the years, even when I wasn't living anywhere near the coast, and can't recall a year during that time quite like this. I could easily be mistaken, of course, since I haven't kept detailed records from year to year.

If I'm right, though, I wonder if there has been a recorded hurricane season with a start similar to this one. It would be interesting to know how that hurricane season turned out. I realize that hurricanes and, thus hurricane seasons, are fairly unpredictable. They tend to have a mind of their own, evidenced by the fact that I was 100% certain that Her Horribleness wasn't headed to Beaumont because the barometric pressure hovering over the area was too high. Fooled me! Still, I wouldn't mind learning to see if there's a similar hurricane season in history and what it looked like. I just don't have the time to dig through the record books to find out.

On a totally different note, my mind has been doing some rambling about things happening in the Middle East. Last night, I was finally reading last week's Newsweek and was reading the article, The Hand That Feeds the Fire, by Christopher Dickey, Kevin Peraino, and Babak Dehghanpisheh on Iran's influence in the situation when I came to this paragraph:

The trouble is, anger against the Israelis is almost certain to grow even faster than against Hizbullah. Many Lebanese owe a great deal to Hizbullah's clinics, schools and other basic social services in the areas it dominates -- underwritten, of course, by hundreds of millions of dollars from Iran. ...

As I read that, suddenly I kind of remembered reading something similar about the time that Hamas made a huge gain in control over the Palestinian government. Sorry I can't remember precisely where I saw it. I do remember it was in either of the two newspapers I get or Newsweek. What I remember is that in all the furor over the shift to a terrorist group being in control over what was already a delicate situation, someone noted that many Palestinians voted in favor of Hamas candidates because they could be counted on to follow through in assisting them to meet their basic needs (clinics, schools, etc.).

Um........ Doesn't that sound like what Christians are supposed to be doing?

I wonder how things might have gone differently if the world had arrived with engineers and construction equipment, physicians and nurses and medical supplies, teachers and books, instead of military force and materiel. Guess I'm just an idealist at heart. Maybe someday we'll get there, but I'm not counting on it in my lifetime. *sigh*

Well, it's time to face the world again. Much to do. Little time to do it. 'Til later!

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Sum- mer- time ...

and the livin' is --------Hot. Humid. Sweltering. Ennervating. Mind-numbing. Life-sapping. Soul-sucking. Did I mention HOT!?

Truth is, I happen to be a bit of a hothouse plant and am not generally in favor of temperatures approaching the freezing point of the blood in my veins, except during the summer. The weathercasters around here claim it's only been in the mid-nineties. Bank clocks tell the true tale. Today I saw one that said it was 103, and it felt hotter.

I've lived in and visited places where summer temps routinely hover around 110 ... 111 ... 112, in the shade. In Oklahoma, the wind would even quit blowing 'cause it was too much work. And if a bit of a breeze did decide to mosey through, all it would do is rearrange the heat molecules, stirring them to even greater heights - or at least it felt that way.

But I always seem to forget about the nature of Southeast Texas summers until I'm in the midst of one. It's hard to ignore 100 degree temperatures with 100% humidity, and no rain. Even the air is too heavy to move through.

This afternoon I went to the front door, opened it, and was hit in the face by an oven on low broil. Immediately deciding it was too hot to do anything more than slouch back to the chair and vegetate, I capitulated and let the heat and humidity win. Even the a/c wasn't making a lot of headway with the heat.

So now I"m in 'sloth mode', rapidly approaching the speed of a slow loris. I did manage to get my fingers on this Big Chief tablet without getting out of the chair. Even managed to scrawl a few lines on it. Don't know when I'll manage to make it to the computer and blog this. It's too darned hot!

[Finally! After the heat let up, it was time to work, and I'm only now getting home and online. It's Sunday instead of Saturday. The temperature is a breezy 76 degrees with a slight rain falling. Ahhhhhhhh! Bliss!]

Friday, July 21, 2006

FINE

Fine. Your basic multi-purpose word.

"How're you doing?" "Fine."

Upon capitulating in a minor spat, "Fine! *mildly sarcastically* Have it your way!"

"WOOHOO! You look fiiii-ine in that outfit."

Fine - what you pay the court when you overpark at the meter.

When looking at any contract, of course, you need to get out a magnifying glass to read the fine print.

Fine - interesting adjective, as in Ollie's perpetual comment to Stan, "What a fine mess you've gotten us into this time!"

Then there's this one, which I learned about while working in a chemical dependency treatment program: F.I.N.E. I won't give you the original version, but the staff posited that when someone responded "I'm fine" to "How're you doing?", what they were really saying was:

I'm Fouled-up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Exhausted. (F.I.N.E.!)

Since learning THAT definition, I've been very careful to not answer "How are you?" with "Fine." *chuckle*

Certainly since Her Horribleness came through town, at least 3 of the 4 have been right on target, though. I'm not going to tell you which 3, since they change from day to day with one exception: Exhausted.

There is something just plain exhausting about not living in your own intact home (very grateful for the gift of the place where I am living, but it's not home), about finding the energy to deal with getting repairs done, about telling and hearing 'storm stories' - some much more harrowing than anything I've had to live with, about accomplishing those things which are essential and that I truly want to do from the depth of my heart.

Intellectually, I realize that this is what is to be expected at this time. It just frustrates the heck out of me that it takes so long to regain my energy and enthusiasm after I do whatever the next thing on my list is. I tend to be an introvert. Nothing wrong with that for a pastor. It just means that I need solitude to recharge my batteries from time to time. Generally, this is not a problem; however, hurricane recovery is an extraordinary event.

Guess it's time to take my own advice and be gentle with myself. Excuse me, please. I think I'm going to go and hide .... er .... find a quiet place and talk with God for a while. Catch up with you later!

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Lament

Sing loud a dirge to the folly of humanity.
The dead and the dying scream out in mortal agony.
Black smoke arises from the ashes of our enmity.
Lament.

Soldiers march to the tune of madman's drone.
Sabers twisted into atomed-missile's cone.
Threatened cloud chills deeply to the bone.
Lament.

Loving husband cries at wifely pain.
Cancer gnaws away at hope again.
Bankrupt dreams wrapt in bureaucratic chains.
Lament.

Why, oh why? do they answer hatred's call?
Why, oh why? walk the brink of deadly pall?
Why, oh why? is there no dignity for all?
Lament.

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Space ...... the Final Frontier

My Dad worked for NASA, and I've been hooked on science fiction since intermediate school when Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time crossed my path. Star Trek: The Original Series was a common ground in my household, one of the few tv shows I enjoyed (and it was really 'out there' at the time), which my Dad also enjoyed.

Dad couldn't wait until the day when he could say, "Computer" and the machine would answer, "Working, working, working"! *chuckle* This from a mathematician/physicist who worked for NASA, but refused to use anything but a slide rule and mechanical pencil and paper throughout his entire career. Of course, in his own contrarian way, he insisted on getting his daughter and son the most up-to-date calculators he could afford, and talked me into minoring in computer science (an exercise in futility if ever there was one! Computers and I speak totally different languages!).

I still remember watching each of the launches with excitement and trepidation. Dad usually spent them out at Johnson Space Center, just in case something went wrong and he was needed for problem-solving. The only movie he ever watched that had to do with NASA was Tom Hanks' Apollo 13, which he said gave a reasonably accurate description of the flight and how they went about getting the crew back. He retired about the time the shuttle was being developed, as much because of his disagreement with the direction the shuttle was taking as with the retirement incentives (and serious dis-incentives for hanging in there) NASA began offering at the time.

And, I still look forward to the day when there will be commercial flights to a colony on the moon. I have a feeling that Dad would have enjoyed a trip to the moon, too. So, I keep track of the shuttle flights, and what's up with the space station, but, like so many of us, not as much as I used to. Have we/I gotten somewhat complacent, even with the danger of a new frontier which still exists? Have we started backing off of the excitement and potential of exploring the unknown of space up close and personal? I certainly hope not.

Space........... the Final Frontier. Anyone need a chaplain for the first moonbase?!

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Reader's Block

Fuss and bother! This summer I'd decided to read Gordon R. Dickson's "Childe Cycle" through from start to finish, at any rate, to the last book he wrote (he died before he finished the science fiction cycle). I own all of them, so no problem, right? Wrong!

As best I can figure, Tactics of Mistake has gone AWOL .... or Her Horribleness sopped it to oblivion ... *sigh* It's a distinct possibility that in the random quick cleanup to get anything soaking-wet out of my house, the crew had to pick it up and toss it. I don't know. Therefore, Reader's Block! The local library doesn't have it listed either. So now I have to find a copy somewhere and buy it.

OK - so you don't have to read them in order. They function quite nicely in stand-alone fashion. However, I've never read them straight through before and wanted to see what I might glean from following the author through from the beginning, watch his characters and idea unfold as he created it.

Characters are fascinating things, especially in the hands of a good writer. One of my favorites is Rod Gallowglass (nee Rodney D'Armand) by Christopher Stasheff. He (Rod) has wormed his way into my heart and I would marry him in a flash ... except he's so besotted by his beloved Gwendylon that it would be a betrayal of his essential character to consider life with any other woman. Alas! But I wouldn't have his character be any other way!

It is the guiding of the writer's muse to bring characters and ideas into being and then attempt to capture them authentically in 'mere' words.. Sometimes I suspect they say and do things that the author had no original intention of them doing, but then finds they would be dishonest if they said and did anything else.

This is not my gift, but I deeply enjoy stepping into the worlds created by those whose gift it is. I occasionally wonder if it's anything similar to what I feel when crafting a sermon or worship, or leading a meeting where we are seeking solutions to old problems, or those times when one steps into a situation which requires counseling and diplomacy, or those moments which transcend all of time and humanity. It's hard to put into words. The best I can come up with is that I am not the guiding force in my responses and actions. I am not alone, and there is that which is Other which is there to help. (Sounds like I need to see a psychiatrist, doesn't it?) Yet at the same time, that which is the essential me is in control.

Wow! That was a major detour! Sometimes stream-of-consciousness blogging wanders in some interesting places! Guess I'd better bring this to a close and toddle off to Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble to see if I can find Tactics. Gotta do something to get rid of this Reader's Block!

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Racism

Over on Myspace, I received this post from a friend of mine: (my guess is that someone sent it to her)

You call me "Cracker", "Honkey", "Whitey" and you think it's OK.And we let you with no huge fuss about it.

But when I call you Kike, Towelhead, WOP, Sand-nigger, Camel Jockey, Gook, beaner, wet-back, nigger or Chink, or BLACKIE you call me a racist.

You have the United Negro College Fund. You have Martin Luther King Day. You have Black History Month. You have Cesar Chavez Day.Y ou have Yom Hashoah You have Ma'uled Al-Nabi You have the NAACP.Y ou have BET.

If we had WET(white entertainment television) ...we'd be racists. If we had a White Pride Day... you would call us racists.If we had white history month... we'd be racists. If we had an organization for only whites to "advance" our lives... we'd be racists. If we had a college fund that only gave white students scholarships...you know we'd be racists. In the Million Man March, you believed that you were marching for your race and rights. If we marched for our race and rights...you would call us racists.

Did you know that some high school students decided to make a club for only the white students because the other ethnicities had them... they all got sent to court for being rasist but the african-american, latino, and asian clubs were not even questioned. You are proud to be black, brown, yellow and orange, and you're not afraid to announce it. But when we announce our white pride, you call us racists. Why is it that only whites can be racists?

Like a quote from the musical "Avenue Q":"Bigotry has never been exclusively white"Think about that next time that you want to put someone on the stand for any kind of racism, especially "white supremacy". Repost if you agree. Now watch, I'll be a racist for posting this

Here is my reply:

You, personally, racist? Well, that has as much to do with how you treat and talk with people of other races as anything, and I've not seen you base your interactions with others on their skin-color or religious background.

That said, we all have room for improvement. It's very difficult to come at this issue from the 'majority' culture, as you and I do. We carry a world-experience which tends to be quite different from those of minority cultures.

Part of what helps in understanding this is finding yourself in the minority, as I have as a female clergyperson. It has been an enlightening and absolutely infuriating experience to be with male clergy colleagues and have them (1) assume that I will take on the 'traditional' role of secretary/social director and (2) listen to a recommendation I've made, quash it or the language used to describe it, argue my point for Lord only knows how long, only to have them adopt MY idea and MY language (only slightly rearranged), and consider it theirs.

This is a microcosm of what our minority cultures go through regularly. No matter how you look at it, while, for example, there is a Black History Month, the rest of the year presents history mostly through white eyes. And there isn't even a Native American or Asian American or Hispanic American 'anything' of any significance, yet there are people from each of these cultures who have contributed significantly and positively to our heritage. And in a country which prides itself on religious freedom (or freedom to not practice any religion at all), religious epithets and slights are uncalled for.

True, individuals within the various minority cultures must deal with their own racism against the majority culture and even within the variations of THEIR OWN cultures. However, to use stereotypes to broadly condemn all just plain isn't fair.

This piece is essentially a complaint against minority cultures for using stereotypes to malign the majority culture, so is it fair to use the same tactics against individuals of the minority cultures?

In my experience on the Presbyterian Church's Committee on Representation, I've learned much about the richness of our culture which is precisely due to the people of various races and backgrounds. The people I've had interactions with, regardless of racial/ethnic heritage, acknowledge that racism still exists - on BOTH sides of the equation. We have spent time exploring how we experience each others' cultures and how to better understand and work to resolve our differences.

Please take a step back and look at the entire picture instead of only focusing on the immediate sense of injustice caused by people who themselves are wearing blinders. Racism will never be eliminated if we continue to justify our own acts of racism by pointing out the racism of others. Our world would be a much better place if we would take the time to learn and understand more about each other.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Guilty Pleasure

I confess! I"m hooked! So You Think You Can Dance has sucked me in ... again.

Now, I don't like the auditions part, and I don't like them going back and showing more of the auditions at the start of each show. I know they have to do auditions to narrow the field and weed out the ones who obviously don't have what it takes (or are doing it on a dare, or believe they are talented but haven't a lick of rhythm in their soul, or are so nervous that, well, let's not think of how their stomaches react to the tension). Showing the ones who didn't make it each week is just painful to watch, for me, and I know the judges in general try to be compassionate, but it's not an easy task. Personally, I'd be lots happier with the show if they just cut out that time and cut to the chase. (ok - rant over)

What I like about the show is watching the different, widely ranging, dance styles: Latin, hip-hop, ballroom, contemporary, jazz, disco, swing. The dancers are paired up and draw their dance from a hat each week. The audience gets to see snippets of each session where the dancers learn the choreography, usually the fairly inept parts of the lesson. Sometimes they are able to dance to their strengths; at others, they haven't the foggiest of what they're doing. I am always intrigued to see how well it comes together, not always perfect, but that's why it's a competition.

Oddly enough, I usually don't watch the show where they announce who stays and who's been voted off (or maybe not so oddly, considering how much I dislike the audition portion). I'll watch the last one where they announce the winner, of course.

What I'd really like to do is learn some of those dances someday, especially the ballroom, Latin, and swing (the jury's out on disco, but it's not beyond the realm of possibility). Not looking to compete or anything like that. I just like to dance and wish I knew what I was doing!

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Freedom

... Is Not Free. That's the t-shirt my mom gave me today. The shirt's right, you know. It has cost much in the lives of those who originally waged revolution for our freedom from the British Empire through all of those who have given their lives, limbs, and livelihoods today. I hold in high regard those who are willing to give up a portion of their liberty to serve to protect those hard-won freedoms outlined in the Bill of Rights.

My brother is currently back on active duty in Kosovo, and has served in the military on active duty and the National Guard since he entered Westpoint in 1977. He and I operate from a different perspective on many things (especially in the religious arena); however, he has served this country and defended our freedom with integrity, as have so many others.

Freedom is not free. Yet it is amazing to me how many people are willing to give away their freedoms in the interest of personal security and safety. "Sure - go ahead and monitor my phone calls, read my emails, take a look at my library list and finances, tell my newspapers and magazines and tv reporters just precisely how far they can question our government! I'll cover my ears and sing la-la-la-la while you do it. Just keep me and my family safe!" Bah humbug! There is no such thing as perfect safety. It simply can't be done. Until that day when all evilness is eliminated from humanity, it ain't a-gonna happen.

Our military folk do a fine job on our behalf. Their work is important. There are many others whose work is equally important, the ones who are willing to poke their noses into those dark places where our government would prefer we not tread, who walk into courtrooms on behalf of citizens and non-citizens whose basic freedoms are being squelched, who have the audacity to work for peace, who seek "liberty and justice for all" in spite of the personal difficulties and hardships they endure, and who in even the littlest of ways continue to strive for the incredible vision started 230 years ago.

So on this Independence Day, I want to say 'Thank You!' to all of the people who give of themselves to ensure that we don't walk into the pages of Orwell's 1984 or Bradbury's Farenheit 451, who insist upon learning and thinking for themselves about the consequences of this freedom which has been so dearly won, and acting with honor and integrity that we may remain free.

Thank You! Thank You!

Saturday, July 01, 2006

Playing the Rest

The other day while reading the Rev. Thom Shuman's "Occasional Sightings of the Gospel", I came across an interesting concept: playing the rest. In music, it's not only the notes and rhythms that are important, but also the silence of the rests. The gentleman in Thom's story taught the VBS kids (and adults) to "play the rest" by raising their arms to signify the silence. Thom then suggested that when Jesus went out into the wilderness or mountains, he was 'playing the rests'.

Silence. Those moments when there is nothing but space, the direction is unclear. You know something will happen at some point, but aren't completely sure when it will happen or what it will even be. It's kind of an odd feeling when you're in the midst of it.

It's funny, though. Even the silence is not truly silent. Turn off all the appliances and you still hear bugs buzzing, the breeze blowing, cars zipping past, people banging on roofs (the computer humming *chuckle*).

Once I had the opportunity to visit an anechoic chamber. It's a room that is so completely soundproofed that no noise from outside can enter in, and no noise made within the room echoes or reverberates. Noise is sounded, then immediately dies. The tour guide had us sit perfectly still, turned off the lights, then had us sit in the silence. Perfect silence. ... or so it seemed.

Yet even in a room where no noise lives for any length of time, where its inhabitants were deliberately maintaining silence, it soon became apparent that we could not escape noise. We carried within us the sound which could be heard even in the silence - the sound of a heart beating rhythmically. lub-dub ... lub-dub ... lub-dub ...

I still haven't completely figured out why these two images keep coming to mind - playing the rest and the anechoic chamber. Somehow they're inextricably intertwined, a faith statement. Even in the midst of a rest, in the depth of complete silence, we are not alone. Surrounding us are reminders of the One who brought us into being. Maybe these two images come together because even when 'playing the rest', there is constant beneath it a rhythm which one cannot escape. hmmmmmm..... Have to do some more thinking about that.