The Number of the Beast

All right - I acknowledge that many of these have been around for years, but I just couldn't see letting today slip past without acknowledging the "Number of the Beast" - 666. Did you know any of these little known factoids? (scrounged from EcuLaugh and a website I copied a long time ago, but have apparently lost the front page information to)

$665.95 Retail price of the Beast

$699.25 Price of the Beast plus 5% sales tax

$769.95 Price of the beast with accessories and replacement parts

$656.66 Walmart price of the Beast

$646.66 Next week's Walmart price of the Beast

$6.66 Beast steak, per pound

1-866-666-6666 Toll free number of the Besat

6-6-6 Fertilizer of the Beast

6-666-66666-6 ISBN of the Beast

66-66-66 bust, waist and hips of the Beast

665.99996973 Intel Pentium number of the Beast

00666 Zip code of the Beast

1-666 Area code of the Beast

660 Approximate number of the Beast

DCLXVI Roman numeral of the Beast

666.0000 Number of the High Precision BEast

0.666 Number of the Millibeast

/666 Beast Common Denominator

666^(-1) Imaginary number of the Beast

1010011010 Binary of the Beast

Phillips 666 Gasoline of the Beast

$6.66 9/10 Price of a Beast gasoline

Route 666 Way of the Beast

666F Oven temperature for roast Beast

666k Retirement plan of the Beast

6.66% 5 year CD rate at First Beast National Bank, $666 minimum deposit

i66686 CPU of the Beast

666i BMW of the Beast

DSM-666 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the Beast

668 Next-door neighbor of the Beast

666 mg Recommended Minimum Daily Requirement of Beast

Lotus 6-6-6 Spreadsheet of the Beast

Word 6.66 Word Processor of the Beast

6 h 66 min Beast Standard Time (BST)

Beverly Hills 66666 Beast's favorite TV show

6/6/66 Birthdate of the Beast

666-66-6666 Social Security number of the Beast

6666 PIN of the Beast

25.806975 Square root of the Beast

Motel 666 Beast Western

Windows 96 ver. 666 OS of the Beast

333 Half brother of the Beast

555 Number of the Wanna-Beast

Not Holding My Breath

The hoopla's begun! Apocalyptic crackpots are crawling out of the woodwork in anticipation of the END OF THE WORLD (they do tend to talk in capitals), and the SECOND COMING. Tomorrow is the day which has the 'number of the beast' marked on it; although, I haven't quite figured out how they manage to deal with that silly little zero just before the last six. If you're going to ignore the next to the last number of the date, then the day when the world's going to end pops up much more frequently (ie. 6/6/96 would become 6/6/6, wouldn't it?).

Some day last week I saw a huge ad in the Houston Chronicle with pretty small print predicting all manner of horribleness happening before the end of June. Something to do with preachers lying to their members and falsely interpreting texts and some other mangled hermeneutics that I couldn't read because the grammar was atrocious and the print was so small.

It just tickles my funny bone when someone goes off and predicts a precise date for the End Time. That day is one that'll sneak up on us when we aren't looking, even Jesus tells us he doesn't know the date!

A minister friend of mine tells of the time he and a few friends sat down and scoured the scriptures to figure out the exact date when Jesus would return. They pondered the symbolic significance of all the images in the Revelation, looked at Old Testament clues, researched and argued all the details until they were absolutely certain of their calculations. The date just had to be October 22nd, 1976. The problem was - It was 1978.

So ....... I'm not holding my breath. Let the zaniness begin!!

An absurd PS - Since there are 24 time zones, does the Apocalypse start in one place on 6/6/6 and then move forward hour by hour?

Of Babel and Pentecost

Tomorrow we celebrate Pentecost Sunday, the founding of the church universal through the sending of the Holy Spirit. My sermon's headed a different direction because I'm using the Old Testament text instead of the New; however, I had some thoughts come together this morning and didn't want to lose them.

OK - so I'm a procrastinator and waited until the last minute to try to pull together something audio on the speaking of multiple languages on that first Pentecost Sunday. So my computer skills leave something to be desired (and perhaps my equipment, as well, but we'll never know because I don't have the skills to figure it out! *chuckle*). I am reasonably good at tracking down what I'm looking for on the net, however. Therefore, I've spent several hours last night and this morning trying to track down wav files to download and cobble together into a audio-collage of languages speaking the Lord's Prayer. HA! Well, I can find them, but the ones I want are either not downloadable or too expensive for a 15 second burst on one Sunday morning.

Then it struck me - why doesn't there exist a Pentecost rendering of the Lord's Prayer? Why are we afraid to consider the possibility that Christ speaks to us in a multitude of languages?

On that first Pentecost, the dumbfounded disciples spilled from that upper room and wandered into the streets speaking languages they knew they didn't know, and the crowds were equally dumbfounded. That annually-mangled list of names in Acts was probably just a smattering of the languages spoken on that day.

If you wander back into Genesis for a bit, you run across the story of the building of the Tower of Babel. Humanity decided to build for the skies. While I have a bit of a theological problem with God desiring divisiveness and confusion, the tale is as good a story as any for the reason there are so many languages floating around. Anywyay, the communication situation now is problemmatic, because Jane's family can't understand Joe's family, who are really perplexed by the words coming out of the mouths of John's family, and so on.

We're off and running, and language continues to tangle us up until this very day (and probably long into the future!). Even when we're speaking English, there's British English, Australian English, Deep South English, California English, New England English, ..... well, you get the picture.

Then along comes Pentecost. I guess it's only been about five years ago or so that I began to realize the importance of Pentecost, a special day of the church we Protestants seem to downplay. I initially reveled in the day because it's one of the few Sundays in the church year when one can wear red! I love green (it's my favorite color), but let's get real! Out of 52 weeks, there are 11 weeks of white, 10 weeks of purple, and 1 (count them! ONE!) week of red. So I cheat. I carry Pentecost over a few weeks instead of dragging around in ubiquitous green all summer.

However, I digress.

Pentecost is more than an excuse to wear red for a while. It's a birthday celebration! And the nature of that birthday goes back to that tower of Babel story. When the disciples received the Holy Spirit, and the visitors from other countries heard the Good News in their own languages and believed, God didn't erase the translation difficulties in perpetuity. Instead of wiping the slate clean and allowing all who believe to speak the exact same language, God transcends the language barrier.

It seems to me that God revels in the majesty and possibility of diversity. Sure, we humans haven't gotten the hang of that possibility. I've been wandering through some religious discussions online and continue to be amazed at the number of people who want everyone to walk in lockstep with their understanding of the faith. If God had wanted that to happen, it could have easily been contrived at any point throughout history. Yet God calls us to decide for ourselves, gives us the free will to accept or reject or to just plain mull over for however long we need, and to seek out our own pathways in life.

For me, that has become the celebration in Pentecost: God is able to accomplish so much in spite of our babble and confusion. And among the followers of Jesus were now: Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, ... French, Russians, Koreans, Choctaws, Cherokees, Mexicans, Vietnamese, Germans, South Africans, Maoris, Malawis, Egyptians, Palestinians, Deep Southerners, New Englanders, African Americans, ... old, young, middle-aged, the disabled, male and female (regardless of sexual orientation), red state conservatives, blue state liberals, ... and the list continues to grow, for I believe God deeply loves all of creation, and I refuse to put God in that proverbial box to limit who will be accepted into the glory of God's love.

Can Anything Good Come From Nazareth?

Hmmmmmm.... I just reread yesterday's post and realized that it took a different direction from my original intent. Nothing wrong with that. I stand by what I posted, but I don't want to lose yesterday's intent either: that, occasionally, even something I'm diametrically opposed to can present something of positive value.

As you might have guessed, I'm no fan of The Layman. I wander through its pages more as an exercise in trying to understand those I disagree with so vehemently. I generally have to be in the right frame of mind to undertake this task so I don't blow a gasket or something. Yesterday was one of those days where a teaser caught my eye and I just couldn't put it down. (Not a good start to perusing the rag.)

While looking for the actual article (which I never found, btw), I came across a box which listed our last ten General Assembly moderators and the Layman's assessment of their theological/political stance on a variety of their pet peeves. I'm quite sure the Layman didn't mean it this way, but it was a sign of hope for me.

Of those last ten moderators, six have been vocal in their stance in favor of the ordination of homosexuals, three were sort of middle of the road, and one was reviled because he didn't jump through the Layman's hoops (in the guise of a special called meeting of the Assembly during the year over some trivial issue which wasn't decided in their favor at the original meeting). This is good news!!

Please understand. At the time each moderator was elected, there were candidates for the office who staunchly support the views of the Layman. At the time each moderator was elected, the vote on the final ballot (usually there were 2-3 ballots) in favor of the winning candidate was by at least two-thirds of the voting commissioners. This tells me that the vocal minority is mostly that - vocal - when it comes to the mainstream of this old mainline denomination.

So - something good did come out of something which is usually filled with misinformation and hate. Doesn't mean I'm planning to read each issue when it arrives (pastors get the darned thing for free, so there's no escaping its arrival); however, I have been reminded that sometimes serendipity sneaks in and I probably ought to keep my eyes open for it!

Lowering the Blood Pressure

I oughta know better! Reading "The Layman" is not a good thing for my blood pressure. For anyone who doesn't know, the Layman is the ultra-super-duper conservative newspaper of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). I have been a personal victim of a major misquote, so I know that if you don't happen to swim in their pond, there's a fairly slim chance that anything one says or does will even remotely resemble the actual event.

Our denomination is quickly approaching our now biennial General Assembly, the meeting where decisions affecting the national church are made. Lurking on the horizon is a decision to approve or disapprove the report of a Task Force which has been working for about six years on issues related to ordination standards, our understanding of Christology, and a couple of other issues I can't remember off the top of my head.

The membership of this task force is comprised of a wide range of theological viewpoints, and a diverse background (culturally, geographically, age, you name it!). Much prayer, tears, time, discussions (both heated and otherwise), Bible study, information gathering, historical perspective, relationship-building, ... well, just plain love and effort ... has gone into their final report.

For those on either of the ends of the theological spectrum, there are things which won't make them happy. (Sounds like a good compromise to me!) What impressed me about the report is that those who were involved in the work agreed unanimously to the outcome. They each have said that their essential understanding of their faith has not waivered, and their basic stance on some of the issues is still the same; however, they have come to respect each others' positions and have found a way to work together for the good of the church. HOORAH!!

So, that's the background. Here's my beef. If these individuals were able to listen for the working of the Spirit in the completion of their charge and then present what they understood the Spirit to be speaking through them, then why can't those at the theological extremes consider the possibility that God is doing something new here? Why must the language immediately become "my way or the highway"? Already, groups are gathering names, overtures, congregations and threatening that, if the vote goes such-and-such a way, they're picking up their marbles and leaving.

It appears that minds are already closed, which seems to me to be a denial of what it means to live out one's Christianity. I don't believe that God stopped acting and informing our faith at the point of establishing what books would be our holy text. If God had stopped then, why do we continue to translate texts into language which, we hope, makes sense to hearers today? Why do we not follow point by point what's written in Leviticus (the usual text brought into play around the ordination of homosexuals)? Are we to turn a blind eye to advances in understanding our world and our humanity? I don't think so!

It saddens me to think of schism, yet it appears that schism may be precisely what is ahead. However, I've been involved in that wonderful experience known as General Assembly Commissioner. No matter what those not directly involved the process might say, that group of people elected to make these big decisions for our denomination are touched and led by the Holy Spirit. That is what we believe - in our gathering and discussion, we are called to listen for the guidance of the Spirit, and if we are true to that guidance, our faith and denomination will be strengthened. I sure hate the conflict in the meantime, though!

On the Brink

Halt! ..... Put your hands to your sides! ..... Step away from the calendar! ..... Take a deeeeeeeep breath!

OK - How many of you figured that everything Rita would be over and done with by now? Don't be shy. Go ahead! Raise your hand. Yep! That's what I figured. Did you notice my hand was up too?

Here we are headed into a new hurricane season, and we've not finished cleaning up the old one yet. I don't know about you, but that wasn't what I had planned for this year. And with the news coverage and weathercasters tossing around not-so-encouraging numbers, I've noticed a bit of a tension and edge in the air. Have you?

Guess what .... what we're experiencing is normal. NORMAL?!, you say? Well, normal for the experience we find ourselves in at any rate. I've been reading Dr. Harold G. Koenig's book, "In the Wake of Disaster", which looks at the religious response to catastrophes of various natures. One of the things he details are the various phases of the recovery process, and the book came out late enough that it incorporates the Katrina experience into its research.

Mind you, I'm doing some semi-educated guessing here, but I'd say that we're kind of in limbo between two phases: the Short Term Aftermath Phase and the Long Term Aftermath Phase. According to Koenig, in the short term phase, people "begin to recognize the implications of the disaster event and their need for support." It's a time for people to begin "working through their losses and assign meaning to the event." Which is to say that we are beyond the shock of the initial experience and are beginning to process the depth of the changes which have occurred in our lives and the lives around us.

Operating from ignorance here, I figured this would last about 6-8 months and we'd be percolating along in something resembling the usual state of normal in our lives. WRONG! Here I was getting upset with myself for still feeling 'stuck', anxious, having trouble sleeping. It was a great relief to know that what I'm experiencing is not unusual. Anyone else feeling kind of 'let down' because people haven't magically managed to pull everything completely back together? That's part of the long term phase.

I hadn't realized just how long it would take to get things back together, and I suspect for those of us still working on returning our living and work spaces to useable space again the process will take even longer. Koenig says that the long term phase hits during six-twelve months after the event, and that for some people it may take years to completely integrate the changes. WHEW! And here I thought I was just being weird!!

Where's the Good News in all of this? First and foremost, God has not left us alone. Christ himself has promised to be with us always through the Spirit of the Comforter (Advocate, Counselor, depends on the translation, all are wonderful to have around!). We have Someone in our corner who understands what we are going through and sends us what we need at the right time. (Thanks, Ron, for the book!)

Second, we have each other to lean on for support. Now here's where you have to occasionally poke me and remind me that I don't have to do it all by myself! And, if you have to do it for me, I'm willing to do it for you! This is not a quick-fix situation, so we do need to continue to care for ourselves, for each other, and for those Christ places in our path.

And, third, let's not forget that God has provided those with gifts for counseling, home repair, detail managing, and all manner of special needs to help us reassemble the pieces which are still apart. There is no shame in seeking assistance and allowing them to offer their special gifts and talents to us. It's hard to be on the receiving end. That darned independent Protestant work ethic could keep us from having an incredible opportunity for our faith or someone else's to grow.

So - as we head once more into hurricane season, I leave you with these words from Jesus: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. (John 14:27, NSRV)

Twenty-three Years Ago

Twenty-three years ago in a hospital not too far from here, my son was born. It's hard to believe that so much time has passed, for it seems like only yesterday (although there's no squalling 'short person' in the house to make that seem true). But it's true. He's 23 years old today, and a fine young man, at that.

In about six months, he'll be graduating from college with a degree in political science and a minor in music. After that, he's headed on to learn more about what he really loves - trombone. Took him a while to figure that out, but I believe he made the right choice. You should see his face when he plays or talks about music! It glows! That's the way one should be about one's life-work. When you find your gift, and use it, it should bring joy to your heart that everyone can see. I'm glad he didn't have to bumble around for too long before he found his true self.

It feels really weird to realize that I'm in almost the same place where he was born now. When I left here twenty-two years ago, I planned to never come back this way. In fact, I did not step foot in the town until almost twenty years later, and even then, came mostly out of curiosity. I really had no intention of staying. But here I am! And, for the moment, this is where my joy lies. I love what I'm doing and the people I'm working with!

I am not the person I was twenty-three years ago, and that's a good thing. Part of the reason I found the courage to grow was the young man who came into my life twenty-three years ago today. I could not stay where I was (emotionally or physically) and keep him safe. Now, I believe, we are both the better for it; although, we each carry scars from the past.

You know, some might say I've come full circle by returning to this place. I'd much rather say I'm in an upward spiral, traveling past a familiar location, but in a much stronger position.

Twenty-three years ago today, something truly wonderful happened. My son was born. *smile* Yep! I think I'm going to savor twenty-three years' worth of memories today! I'll try not to embarass you, son!

Excuse Me

"If somebody of (Ken Lay's) stature is assulted in any way, that's going to be really bad PR for the United States government." Kent Schaffer, Houston defense lawyer

Excuse me! "Somebody of Ken Lay's stature'?! Oh, the hackles on the back of my neck just went ballistic!

It should be really bad PR if ANY person in prison is assaulted, not just those who happen to have (through accident of birth, election to public office, or financial good fortune - or manipulation, as the case may be) attained an upper level social standing. It completely irks me when people seem to think it's ok that someone whose only privilege in life may have been a roof over their head somehow 'deserves' worse treatment than someone who has lived in the lap of luxury.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not advocating that anyone be subjected to assault in prison. However, if an assault on a Ken Lay or other highly placed prisoner is worthy of national shame, it should also be true if an assault on an otherwise non-visible prisoner occurs. Both were convicted of committing a crime. Both should be incarcerated in settings which meet our need for justice and rehabilitation, while keeping each equally free from harm. I realize that this may be a difficult to attain goal, humanity being what it is; however, it should be what we strive for.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot ......

All I need is one more thing to do! So what did I do today? Opened my mouth at the SouthEast Texas Interfaith Organization for Disaster Recovery (SETIO) meeting and said, "We're an interfaith group and we've not once as a community of faith gathered in worship since the storm. Another hurricane season is upon us. We need to worship together." Guess who's now on the planning committee for a community worship service. ......... That's right. Me!

I've gotta stop doing stuff like that! *chuckle* I'm going to get in trouble one of these days!

Thing is, I love planning worship services. You can sucker me with a worship service almost any time. There's something compelling about the symbols and ritual and music which resonates deep within me. With interfaith worship, I love the opportunity to explore cultures beyond my own familiar Presbyterian one.

One year in Idabel, our annual community Thanksgiving service was held at one of the African-American churches. Instead of the plate being passed row by row, the culture of that community was to come forward and bring your offering to the table. It was absolutely the best offering the Ministerial Association had received since I'd gotten there. Even the 'big steeple' churches weren't able to compete with what we collected that year! Our worship together was sprinkled with a diversity of music, prayer styles, and Amens tossed about whenever the Spirit moved. Certainly nothing like the usual worship of the 'frozen chosen'.

One of the things I've always regretted is that we were never able to get any of the local Native American congregations involved in our community worship services. I'm sure we would have been deeply enriched by the gifts they would have brought.

There's a wealth of culture for us to draw from for a community worship service here in the Golden Triangle, too, and not all of it from a Christian perspective. I'm hoping we can draw from each of the faithgroups here. Something which we neglected after Rita came in and roughed us up was the communal spiritual need for healing.

Oh! Our individual congregations most likely did a fine job of working within our memberships, and maybe even touched a few lives outside of the 'usual suspects'. There are so many people who do not have a congregational home! Yet, the storm touched us in ways that may not be addressable through the act of putting one's home back together, or by seeking mental health assistance. Both of those are needed! No doubt about that at all! And I wouldn't for a minute suggest that either should be ignored.

But so are opportunities for us to gather together and recognize the blessings we have received as we've picked up the pieces of our lives. There also seems to be a definitive anxiety that's touching the lives of many as we look to the months ahead and see the specter of another hurricane season facing us. Gathering together for comfort, companionship, consolation, and to share concerns may help us in the days ahead.

So, guess what I did today........... I opened my big mouth ......... and reminded us of whom and whose we are and suggested that maybe we shouldn't keep silent any longer. It's time for us to pray together, and sing together, and cross beyond the boundaries that keep us apart even today to worship together. *shakes head* Oh, what have I gotten myself into!

Graduation

Graduation. It's that time of year! My niece graduated from high school this past weekend and is, hopefully, headed to the US Coast Guard Academy. I have three youth graduating from high school this coming week. My son, who originally planned to graduate this spring, is now on hold until December. (Why can't parents somehow download into their children's brains the vagaries of academic advisors and how to avoid 'mis-advisement'? Guess we each have to learn the hard way!)

Of course, the traditional speech which goes along with graduation almost invariably includes "it's an ending, it's a beginning". At a seminary graduation I attended, the seminary president noted that graduation was a 'little escaton', a small ending as opposed to The Escaton, the starting of the End Times. That's true, but there seems to be something missing from both assessments. I've been through four graduations of my own, and one with my son, and have only now made the connection that graduation is not only an ending. It's a completion.

There is a distinction. Endings may happen whether planned or not, whether anything has been accomplished or not. For those who walk the boards of graduation, who earn the right to toss their pointed mortarboards in the air, it has taken at least a certain level of work to meet the requirements of diploma or degree. Thus one has completion! Accomplishment! TADA!!

The ceremony is usually followed by a headlong rush into the next thing, into beginnings. I'd like to suggest that one take a few hours, days, weeks and hold onto that sense of completion. There's something quite satisfying about reaching a goal after a long period of time. I wish I'd taken the time to enjoy reaching my goals!

The Code's A-Coming

Anyone planning to see The DaVinci Code this weekend? Raise your hands! hmmm ..... one...two... three ... many. OK! You can put your hands back down. Good! That gives me a group of people to talk to. *smile*

Actually, I'm not sure when I'm going to get to see it. This weekend is already cram-packed with a quick trip to the Dallas area for a meeting and my niece's graduation, followed by a mad dash back to Beaumont to get ready for our congregation's grand finale to our 125th Anniversary celebration on Sunday. Whew!

But I am planning to see it as soon as I'm able. It's hard to judge a book by its cover (especially since it's a movie!), and I haven't read the original, so I'm only operating on second-hand info. It is a work of fiction, and has never purported to be anything other than fiction. Why do people get so bent out of shape over fiction? Fiction authors are permitted flights of fancy, otherwise reading would be a really boring thing to do, and the movie wouldn't be worth going to at all.

Why is it the assumption that by reading the book or watching the movie one would automatically ditch everything one believes in to follow a work of fiction? I'll have to admit that I like the idea that Jesus was married. Brown isn't the first person to posit that, though. In the New Testament culture, I would expect it to be normal for a Jewish man to be married before his thirties, and we really don't know much about Jesus' life from his encounter with the leaders in the temple at age 12 until he began his ministry around the age of 30. Plenty of time to get married! It kind of bugs me when people say that Jesus experienced all of human existence, yet get boggled at the thought that he might have actually married and enjoyed a normal sex life. Isn't sexuality a part of the human experience? *shakes head*

Yes, according to what I've heard, there are other things in the book/movie that run counter to my beliefs. I'm not planning to let them trash everything I believe. Faith operates from a different place. According to the apostle Paul in Hebrews, "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen"(NRSV), so why would I let a fiction author convince me that I should give up my faith? Ain't a-gonna happen!

I am planning to suspend belief for a couple of hours and enjoy a bit of fun at a movie, however. Happy viewing!

In Celebration of Mothers

Since being ordained as a pastor, Mother's Day has been a bit of a weird day for me. Before I was in my first church, Mother's Day was fairly simple: buy Mom a sappy card and maybe flowers; wait and see what my son brought home from school (if he remembered to bring it home) or, when he got older, remind son to get sappy card; a nice lunch at a restaurant; and, of course, a phone call to Mom (hopefully before she managed to call me). In general, it was just another day with a flourish or two.

However, when I became a pastor, the dynamics of Mother's Day changed. Oh, the family stuff didn't change - except that now I'm in the position of hoping that my son remembers it's Mother's Day and calls from college. Now it's not just a special day for a relatively healthy (but certainly not perfect) family, such as my own. The people in the congregations I've served have had various experiences of Mothers.

There are some for whom "Mom" is a hellacious memory, not someone to honor with a sappy card or gift. Others are mourning the loss of their own mothers, while still others desperately want a child of their own and are unable to conceive. There are those who struggle with families devasted by abuse, or alcoholism or drug abuse, or mental illness, or any of the other dysfuctional experiences that can happen to a family. How do you balance the various needs for a loving Mother-God for a child/adult of a deprived family with the celebrations of those who have experienced the love and support of a healthy Mom?

There's also this part of me which wrestles with how we go all out to celebrate the moms/surrogate-moms in our lives, yet we kind of sluff past our celebration of dads on Father's Day. Shoot! Mother's Day happens in the very midst of busy lives - just about the time the insanity of 'end of school' and graduations pops up. Most Oklahoma school graduations happen on either the Saturday of Mother's Day weekend or Mother's Day itself. Father's Day gets pushed to the summer at a time when people have skittered off on vacations. In some of the churches I've served, until I brought it up, there was no real acknowledgement of our dads/surrogate-dads in worship. *sigh*

And yet, God is the mother hen who scoops us under her wings and holds us close, or the mother who encourages her child to learn to walk, who gives birth to her children in all of creation, who comforts her children, who stands up and protects them when danger comes their way. Sometimes it's difficult to put aside our human experiences of mother and seek the loving caress of a God who wants to live in family relationship with us. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus was for the reconciliation of humanity to our Mother-Father God.

You know? That's a family that I want to experience in all of its fullness - and I don't need to find a sappy card or buy flowers to do it. Thanks, Mom!

Dad Was Wrong

As I was growing up, I vividly recall my dad stating that "if you really want help on something, see a banker". Apparently, there was some situation where he (or a friend) had gone to a variety of people for some assistance, but the only person who was willing to tackle the problem was a banker.

Dad was wrong.

Somewhere between that day and now, banking has taken a turn for the worse. If you happen to be the least bit nonconventional (for even the most rational of reasons) and don't have a bank account or credit card, you're just plain out of luck! An acquaintance of mine does a variety of jobs on a contract basis and, when she gets paid by check, takes it directly to the bank the funds will be drawn on and cashes it. Or at least she did up until the last couple of weeks.

Now the banks are requiring more than just her driver's license and Social Security card. In order to cash the check, she must have a major credit card or passport. Local credit cards and an employee id badge are second level, but would be accepted in a pinch. Prob - lem! No bank account, so no credit cards. Passports cost way too much money for someone who will probably never leave the United States, and couldn't afford it even if she might. And the employee id? Well, it's hard to get one when the place you work doesn't even have them.

It is absolutely OUTRAGEOUS to require upstanding citizens to go through such hoops. Yes, I do understand that there are people out there who would run a scam in a New York minute. However, there must be a way to find a balance between institutional security and meeting the legitimate needs of those who walk through their doors. There are people truly in need who simply want a legitimate check cashed so they can pay their bills and live their lives.

It's a shame that an institution which at one time had a reputation for being a positive community force has become hide-bound and restrictive to the point of making it even more difficult for those who are not in the mainstream of society. What do we need to do to encourage them to change back for the better?

llama! llama!

It's official. It's gotten waaaaaaaaaay to serious around here lately. Don't get me wrong. There's a lot of serious going around in the world today. However, I just noticed that this blog was getting almost too heavy to lift. And we all need a bit of levity now and then. Why else do you think we toss Holy Hilarity Sunday into the mix from time to time?

Sooooooooo.....listen up everyone! I hereby decree that the new code for "let's get ridiculous" is "llama llama".

You'll just have to see it for yourself at www.albinoblacksheep.com . Look for The Llama Song.

It takes an eternity to load at home, since I'm currently stuck with dialup. pflbt!

(blast - I was going to find a pic of a llama to put here, but have run into technical difficulties. Probably more of an operator difficulty than a computer one. oh, well!)


........ waiting ........ waiting ....... waiting (well, you get the picture! or maybe not since it just plain takes too long to download *teehee*)

Gee! That sounds like my life-theme at the moment! ...... waiting ........ waiting ...... waiting
*chuckle*

Anyway!

llama! llama! .....





DUCK!
As Father Mulcahy would say - "Jocularity! Jocularity!"

Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra

I just watched one of my favorite Star Trek:TNG episodes: Darmok. I will have to admit, the impact is blunted somewhat by knowing what's going to happen before it happens. However, I'm still drawn in by the storyline: how do we communicate?

Of course, the logic of all aliens in the Star Trek universe speaking fairly comprehensible English makes it even more compelling. (Yes - I realize that the universal translator is what provides the vehicle, or we'd spend all sorts of time reading subtitles.) But we're caught in a situation where all the words make some sort of sense - Proper names are obviously proper names, and they're joined by prepositions and adjectives that seem to mean something, but we're missing the context. Thus, impasse!

And we're caught learning a new language in spite of ourselves. Language immersion in its truest sense. There is a certain arrogance in believing that everyone should learn our language, while we refuse to learn theirs. I wonder how we keep people at a distance by speaking in cultural tongues that they don't speak fluently, if at all.

Does the language of Robert's Rules of Order keep those who make decisions in the tongue of talking circles from participating in the leadership of our political, religious, economic, social milieus? Do we isolate ourselves by refusing to speak the languages of generations other than our own? It strikes me that society is currently having the most difficulty with those who speak in the tones of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, whose root metaphors come from the same initial document. Amazing isn't it?

Picard was finally able to break through the language barrier as he learned of their commonalities in the midst of shared hazards. The chill of the evening and lack of shelter gave an opportunity to learn something of dealing with the language of needs. The 'electrical entity' gave them a shared difficulty to overcome. It is truly unfortunate that one of the participants had to die to finally get the message across. We do that all too often to each other.

Picard may have ultimately had the right idea. Maybe we need to spend some time immersing ourselves in the root myths we hold in common to remind each other that we truly aren't that different from each other. Perhaps it's time for each of us to have a "Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra" experience and, thus, encourage understanding and peace. Brand me an idealist, but I hope we find a way to make it happen soon!

The Ambivalence Zone

Like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, I really wrestle with how one's faith informs one's stance on things like the death penalty and war. Bonhoeffer started with the position that the harming or taking of another life is completely not an option for the devout Christian, and then ultimately was executed by the Nazi government for participating in a failed assasination attempt on Hitler. Read his books "Life Together" (of his days in an underground Christian seminary) and "Letters and Papers from Prison" (smuggled out by a friend while he was awaiting his execution). His journey from one position to the other speaks to the dilemma as it evolves throughout his life and experiences. Truth to tell, I'm not sure what I would have done in his shoes.

This week, Zacarias Moussaoui was sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole and sent to the Supermax facility in Colorado. There's no way I'm comparing him to Bonhoeffer! Just so you know that up front! However, he's the focal point for my contemplations at the moment.

In some respects, I've been out of touch with the "real" world for the past few days while at a meeting discussing such real-world experiences as discrimination, 'white privilege' (I intensely dislike that term - maybe it hits too close to home *sigh*), giving voice to the voiceless within our denomination, working to ensure that our leadership reflects our membership in all its variations (clergy/lay, male/female, racial-ethnic background, age, geographic area, etc.) So, today I've been catching up on several days' worth of newspapers.

In Thursday's paper I read the headline giving the sentence to Moussaoui, and wandered into the ambivalence zone. I hadn't read what was given by the jury as their rationale yet, so only had my assumptions to go on. The WWJD mantra (I know - how cliche!) popped into my head and said that this was the Christian thing to do, and yes, it's really most likely the way Jesus would have handled the situation. Look at how he treated those who crucified him! Yet I thought of those families who had lost everything to people such as Moussaoui and might feel something resembling relief at his death, and travelled a few steps in their direction. Then I began to say to myself, "Those jurors outfoxed him! He wanted death and martyrdom and what he got instead was life and, hopefully, only a footnote in the histories of the events of 9/11. They saw through his plea for the death sentence."

Then I read what was given of their reasoning ..... and thought "how lame!" Sorry - one probably shouldn't call the experience of an abusive and hateful upbringing a lame rationale for passing over the death penalty. Yet I think I would have preferred that the jurors have the courage of conviction to say, "We aren't going to execute you because we do not want to turn you into a martyr." But then, by blaming Moussaoui's actions on his past rather than on his religious fanaticism, the jurors have blunted the potential 'live martyrdom' of Moussaoui's incarceration.

Even so, I'm conflicted. How does one live out one's Christianity faithfully when faced with such dilemmas as the appropriate punishment for the taking of lives, and boldly stated intent to keep on taking lives whenever possible? Guess I'll just have to get used to living in the ambivalence zone on this one.

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.

Awesome Rose!

What an awesome young lady! Rose on Black. White., that is. There are six people living in that house and I think she's the only one who's truly beginning to 'get it'.

On last night's show, she sat talking with her mom and basically (because I can't remember verbatim) said, "I can put on the makeup and experience the stares and the slights, but I cannot truly be black because I was not raised in that culture. I am not black. I do not carry within me the centuries of oppression and slavery which is a part of their culture. And they cannot put on makeup and truly become white because they were not raised white." She recognizes that there may be a barrier there that cannot be overcome ... and truly respects and is awed by what she has learned, and manages to hear, truly hear, when her stereotypes are challenged, so that her understanding is broadened.

One of the African-American teens pointed out to Rose that some of her cultural expectations regarding an innate family-ship among those of African descent were built on expecting all blacks, regardless of background, to feel that same kinship and rootedness in the African culture. She told Rose that she grew up in this country and her family came from slave roots, but that she was completely disconnected from the African aspect of her background. Rose is beginning to understand that it isn't just skin color which determines one's cultural understanding. Watching Rose grow has been the most truly fascinating part of this six-week show.

I'm not sure if it's the way the producers have cut the rest of the footage, but I've gotten frustrated with the rest of the people in the show. Well, I probably oughta give Carmen a bit of a break - she is at least recognizing that life in the other culture does have strictures that she wasn't truly aware of earlier. There has been a subtle shift in the focus of the Spark family. Now it is not so much about how they experience being white, but on how Nick is not culturally aware of his blackness and on teaching the others in the show what being African-American is about.

The interesting thing is that I think Nick may be struggling with his identity, regardless of culture, and simply trying to find a place where he fits in. It's only after he reveals that he's really black, not white, that he encourages the rest of his etiquette class to use the N-word. And truly doesn't seem to understand one of the girl's discomfort and objection to its usage, even though she's white and even though she's been given permission by an African-American to use the word. My guess is that Nick slipped back into some subconscious cultural expectations - whites expect blacks to use the N-word and feel comfortable about it - and put on the role when he was faced with the experience.

I guess I'm just going to slog on through until the end, if only to see if Rose has any impact on the rest of the participants.

Hurricane Recovery 101

I wonder if anyone's ever thought of writing a "Hurricane Recovery for Dummies" or "Idiot's Guide to Hurricane Recovery" book. It seems the longer recovery is happening, the more I learn I need to know. The book could have more than just the usual 'how to find a reputable contractor' section that you find in the newspapers after catastrophe strikes. Here're some of the others that mine would have:

Speaking in Tongues - It seems that all of the sudden I'm supposed to be proficient in the language of insurance, mortgage, contractor, and FEMAese. I'm an intelligent person and am having a difficult time speaking just plain English! These arcane tongues require experts!

Interpreting Insurance Adjuster Estimates - Part of it goes back to Speaking in Tongues, but trying to piece together one's damaged home while looking at one of those estimates is enough to give the uninformed a headache. For example, one part of my estimate says 'apply microbial agent'. Now I'm sort of sure the guy doesn't mean Kilz, because he mentions that by name later in the estimate. So just what the heck is he talking about, where do I get it, or who do I get to apply it? Mysteries!

The Art of the Mediator - suggestions on how to get the insurance company to actually speak directly to the contractor who's doing the work and insists that it costs a whole heck of a lot more than the insurance company says they're now willing to pay. The insurance company says they can't be involved in disputes with contractors, even though it's the insuracne company who approves how much gets paid and is (with replacement cost insurance) footing the whole shebang! It takes delicate work (and the willingness to look like an absolute idiot) to actually get both parties in the same room to talk.

Locating Collateral Damage for the Untrained Eye - It's amazing to me that I've now had two! (count them - 1 .... 2) insurance adjusters in my home for the sole purpose of locating damage which occurred as a result of a tree crashing through my roof during a hurricane and neither one found what I happened to notice this weekend. While standing in one of the rooms next to where the tree came in, I happened to look near the ceiling and noticed that the nails which hold the sheetrock to the studs are protruding about 1/8th to 1/4 of an inch from the wall. Is this significant structural damage which must be repaired before I go further? Or can I just tap those suckers back in and have someone do some cosmetic surgery where the now visible nails are? I don't know! And there are other things I've found as time has gone by. It would be helpful to know what to look for and where to look for it, rather than counting on happenstance to notice that the ornamental ironwork at the opposite end of the house from the tree incursion has shifted about 1/2 inch and, lo! and behold!, at least one of the bricks on the house is now loose.

Creating Debris Sculptures and Other Recycling Ideas - Some handy-dandy suggestions for what to do with some of the mountain of stuff which is now sitting in your living room floor or on your bed. Who knew that so much could come out of such a contained space? There have got to be some creative ideas for it beyond putting it in the landfill for archeologists to drool over in centuries to come.

The Plants Are Dying. Is This Normal? - Actually, this one is for people who are more plant oriented than I am. I have the proverbial black thumb, but thought there might be some things that gardener types would find useful.

NO! You Aren't Just Imagining Things - Well, there probably could be a better name for this one, but I can't think of it at the moment. In fact, that's one of the normal things which seem to happen in the aftermath of a traumatic event - not being able to think quite as well as usual. An all-purpose Hurricane Recovery book would have to include a section on the personal process of grieving and recovering after the storm. So many people don't know that some of the mental, physicial, and spiritual weirdnesses which are happening to them may be (and probably are at least for a period of time) normal parts of recovering from such a traumatic event. I still find myself caught in the cycle of grieving, especially since I'm not back in my home yet. If it's difficult for me (and I do have a home I can return to eventually, and resources to help me get there), imagine how difficult it is for those who can't return home or don't have resources.

Of course, there need to be chapters on dealing with landlords who raise rents or won't do repairs, how to find ........ whatever (advocacy resources, assistance resources when you can't do it yourself or don't have insurance, etc.), AND celebrating when something resembling a normal life finally gets put back together!

I'd try to tackle it, but I'm in the middle of this right now and don't have time to research all the angles! Maybe you'll take a bite at this apple?

Monday Monday

Looks like it's going to be longer before I get back home. The church group that was going to finish my interior work now that my roof's fixed isn't going to be able to do it. I was afraid that might happen after my roof repair put things on hold. Talk about a depressing turn of events! Absolutely ruined my Monday. (I know. I know. Mondays are supposed to be lousy. But Mondays are my day off, so they're usually not bad.)

Now I've gotta find someone to do the interior work (walls, ceilings, painting ... well, I can do some of that, but a crew would be helpful ... baseboards, wallpapering ... that I'm absolutely no good at! *chuckle* ...). Haven't quite figured out when I'm going to add that task to the already full plate I have. Things crank up big time between now and my son's graduation. I think I'll be meeting myself coming and going - and it looks like that won't be happening at my home anytime soon. *very big sigh*

I'm definitely in morose-mode today. You know, good stuff actually has been happening recently. My son came down and visited this weekend. It was really good to see him! He didn't even get lost on the way down, which is quite an accomplishment for him! (He unfortunately inherited my directional disability.) He's become quite an awesome young man. Wish he could have stayed a couple of days longer, but classes were calling.

We had a really good turnout for the launch of the Coalition for Mutual Respect here in the Golden Triangle. Building interfaith relationships is something our congregation wants to be involved in, and I think that's really cool! It was wonderful to be a part of selecting the leadership for our denomination's General Assembly this June. I learned a lot and hope that I was helpful in the process. Our church has a new choir director/accompanist, who's a really good musician. He started last Sunday and everyone was thrilled. It'll be wonderful to have the organ played by someone who's specialty is organ performance each week. Easter oughta be awesome!

Now if I can just hang onto the up part of this!

Of Washers and Racism

I finally found the trick to making the washer where I'm staying run through the entire cycle! Minor accomplishment, but you don't know how good that makes me feel this morning. *chuckle* Up until this morning, the machine's stopped after agitating for a while and then I've had to run the dial around, popping it in and out at various spots, to get it to rinse and then get it it spin. Frustrating! So.... what do you have to do to keep it working through the cycle? Why take your fist and whop it on the lid twice! *sigh* And to think it was so completely simple.

Well, the day is off to a good start, so now all I have to do is climb a couple of mountains of stuff to get done, write my article for the newsletter, pay bills (yuck!), attend a meeting, and go to the grocery store (to put it mildly my cupboard has gone bare!). Mundane stuff, I know, but it's part of life.

I'm still watching Black. White. I'll admit it. I think I'm hooked on this one. About the time I decide it's a waste of time, someone does or says something which intrigues me. We finally got to see a bit more of the son this week. In some ways, he plays to the stereotype of the teen African-American (and I realize that this isn't only a black phenomenon) - there's a bit of the gang wannabe about him; rap music; if he wants something and has the money, he buys it, even if it wipes him out financially; he's been expelled from school and doesn't see any reason for working on his GED or trying to go to college or get a job (which is interesting because both of his parents are college educated and work).

I am intrigued by the fact that he truly doesn't see any racism directed toward him, or others, for that matter. He isn't hyper-vigilant for behavior that singles him out because of his race. The fact that he doesn'tsee it really bothers his dad a lot! In fact, his father feels he's failed as a father for not teaching his son these things. Which raises some questions for me - Does one have to be hyper-vigilant in order to root out racism? Or do we eliminate racism by becoming color-blind? Or does being color-blind simply ignore the problem and 'hope it goes away'? In some respects, he's like Bruno (the white adult) who believes that racism doesn't truly exist, but it's a matter of treating each other with respect. (Nothing wrong about that last part, unfortunately, I don't think we've gotten past the racism yet.) The next question becomes "how do we get everyone to treat each other with respect?"

When I was in Idabel, the community went through a planning process to develop some goals to help both the schools and community grow. One of the things which seemed to irritate the youth was that the adults seemed focused on racial issues, while they were focused on issues related more to equality in terms of economics. For them, it didn't matter what color your skin was (and this community has some interesting history related to African-Americans being brought to the area as Native American slaves). It mattered more that there were people who were hungry, living in families where alcoholism and domestic violence were everyday experiences, who didn't have much to hope for in terms of opportuniies for improvement (at least as seen from their perspectives).

Maybe they're right. Maybe it's time for us to look beyond the old patterns of discrimination and realize that the economic divide is a greater gap, and one that's probably a bit harder to leap if you're on the lower end of the payscale. Not impossible, mind you, but definitely filled with more hurdles to jump. I applaud those youth who were (and are) concerned that each of their peers be treated as equals! Isn't this a reminder that 'a little child shall lead them'? They don't have to be so little to teach us a thing or two, do they?

Discombobulated

Indicative of my state of mind at the moment, I've started this about six times and deleted it each time. The ideas and topics have changed each time. There currently is no focus in my life, except getting through the day more or less intact. I've had times when I've been discombobulated before, but I don't think it's ever been quite like this. Really strange!

For one thing, I'm still dislocated. My home is getting closer to moving back into, but it's still going to be a while. I would never have believed how disorienting such a situation is. The rational (no, not rational, because I'm not irrational. Let's say instead 'the empathetic') part of me thinks, "If you're feeling dislocated, think how those who have no homes to go back to feel!" Yet, I am in the here and now in my life, so feeling somewhat like a ship without an anchor is not unreasonable. It's frustrating to want something which you know is in just-and-such a place in your home, but your home is 2-3 miles away from where you are living. And everything where you are living is in just a temporary location. Most of my clothes are still in suitcases! There's my stuff here, but nothing seems to have a home (if you get my drift).

Much is going on at the church. It's Lent, so getting things ready for Holy Week and Easter are enough to keep anyone busy. We're also in transition on our Choir Director/Accompanist position. Our interim's last Sunday is tomorrow. Our new one starts on Wednesday. Good things happening in the long run, but the transition time itself makes for shaky feelings and experiences.

Tomorrow afternoon I head out to see the national church at work, and participate in it! On Monday, we're selecting the moderators and vice moderators of the GA committees for our June meeting. I've never been a part of this before, so it'll be interesting to see how this works. When I graduated from seminary, I would have never believed I'd be doing things at the national level! *chuckle* Guess I've done a bit of growing since then!

Let's see. What else has happened this week? My son was supposed to come in during spring break, but had car trouble and had to bail. He's going to try to get in next week. I was really hoping to see him, though, so that's been a disappointment. I've wrangled with the postal service and won! I found out that the water leak(s) happen to be above ground, so we don't have to break into the foundation to fix them. Whew! Have a volunteer group coming in on 4/1, so I've gotta make some decisions about paint colors and wallpaper before then. My computer crashed and I've had all sorts of trouble with reformatting the hard drive and getting things up and running. I think it's about time for a new computer. *sigh*

I watched Black. White. and still feel ambivalent about that show. I'm having difficulty sorting out what behavior is resulting from the interracial interaction and what is just plain the personalities of the people involved. Truth is, I think the teens are probably getting the most out of the experience, and I wish they'd focus on the son for a while. In the two episodes I've watched, he's only had a bit part. I'm curious as to what's going through his mind. The parents seem to be involved in a tug-of-war as to who is getting the whole thing right, and I'm not sure there isn't some social sabotage happening there as well. The kids are being honest about their experiences, though, and I think that's of value.

When I look back over the past week, and what's to come ahead, I think I'm just drained and need some time to recharge - head off to the middle of nowhere for 2-3 days and just soak in some 'me time'. Wonder if Mo-Ranch has a room where I can vegetate and wander the hill country for a few days? Of course, when I'm going to manage to carve that out is a mystery to me at the moment. *very deep sigh* guess what! Pastors are human after all! *chuckle*

Jury's Still Out

On Black. White. that is. I wonder what would have happened if Bruno and Carmen had been dropped into Beaumont society in their black personas. Bruno's certainly not "getting it" when it comes to his observations of how the African-American community often gets treated by the majority culture. His goal seems to be to show his counterparts the 'better way' to deal with the racism they've experienced throughout their lifetimes. He's just waiting for someone to use the n-word, so he can be a role-model. How condescending?! !!! (You can tell I'm not impressed by Bruno?) Carmen also seemed to be stuck in expecting certain stereotypical behavior. To me, both ended up looking like fools.

I was intrigued by the observation Brian made that whites are more curious than blacks. At some level, that too is probably a stereotype; however, several of the staff at the children's center seemed to affirm that observation. We had what is now an amusing experience at the church. We have long suspected that someone has found a place to live inside our huge 3-story building, and those suspicions seemed to be confirmed by some apparent door-slamming noises on the 2nd floor.

My secretary and one of the child care workers were upstairs at the time. Both vacated the premises fairly quickly. My secretary, who is white, wanted to find out what was going on. The child care worker, who is black, didn't care about the why, she just wanted to be safe. (Not a bad desire, btw) Ironically, the show Black. White. and this observation came up in the discussion of this incident. The varying reactions to the mysterious encounter were lifted up as culturally typical. So I wonder what led to the lack of curiosity (although I can probably guess) and how it ultimately affects the black culture in its continuing endeavor to break down the barriers to advancement.

The other two things which stick out in my mind about the first episode were: Brian buying shoes at the golf course in his 'white' persona and being astonished that the salesman actually took his shoe off his foot and put the new one on for him with a shoehorn. Intellectually, unfortunately, the fact that no shoe salesman had ever done that for him in his lifetime was not a surprise to me. What saddened me is that, even in California (which is supposed to be a racially progressive state - talk about stereotypes!), such petty slights still exist between the races.

The second thing which stands out was how sensitive the teenage daughter Rose was to the situation. You could tell she has great respect for her counterparts and the experiences they've had, and doesn't want to betray them in any way. I think she was really wrestling with the moral issue of being white while passing herself off as black. Kudos to Rose!

Guess I'm gonna have to watch next week and see where it goes from here!

P.S. The 'mysterious visitor' happened to be a door which had come loose in the mechanical room and was randomly banging because of pressure shifts in the a/c system and the wild winds we were having that day. No ghosts! Nobody seeking a safe place to stay! Just a door. *chuckle*

Black. White.

Ok - just to make things clear from the beginning - I don't like reality shows! Now that that prejudice has been stated, let me go on to say that I have found redeeming value in Amish in the City and Beauty and the Geek, and just plain guilty pleasure in Project Runway. So here I sit on the edge of what's being called a documentary/reality show - Black. White. And I can't decide whether to plunge in and watch or not.

I watched Amish in the City initially to (truthfully) satisfy my own curiosity about whether the Amish youth in the show were treated with respect for their faith ... and found that it was the non-Amish on the show who subjected themselves to ridicule. In many respects this was a documentary where each learned something about the culture of the other, if they were willing to put aside some of their own prejudices. More of a documentary than a reality-show competition, I think much learning was done on both sides of the equation.

Beauty and the Geek was the opportunity to learn that there was more to beauty and more to geekiness than meets the eye. I suspect that each went away with more self-respect than they arrived with. My main problem with the show was the elimination of contestants aspect to it.

Project Runway - well, I got hooked on an evening when there wasn't anything else I wanted to watch on tv, and I was intrigued by the challenge of designing a party outfit just from what one could find at a supermarket. I could have done without the varying antics, but the creativity involved in the show kept me watching until the end (and I still wouldn't have chosen the guy who won!).

Now I'm faced with the ambivalence of Black. White. I believe we learn much when we walk in the shoes of another (if that's truly possible in a situation like this). I also believe racism is still a major stumbling block today. So - is it truly possible to put on the skin of someone from another racial/ethnic background for six weeks and get to what it really means to be black or white? How could I, as a white woman, completely carry the weight of a lifetime's black experience, knowing that the timeframe for the experiment is only six weeks? Would anyone truly be able to put aside one's personal history and experience in such a setting? No matter how liberal I believe myself to be, I'm not sure I could let go of the preconceptions I carry enough to let the experience truly sink in.

So, should I give in to what may be a superficial experience of another's culture and history and watch? I probably will, at least for one episode. It's a grand experiment, and maybe something of value may be learned from it. We'll just have to wait and see.