Jonah Smiles

Today is my birthday. This picture is my birthday present for those (e.g., Sabbathing Sam and Natalie) who fear that I don't smile enough. I'm the balding fellow near the top of the picture.

The picture was taken sometime this summer, which explains my short-sleeved shirt. It's a silk and cotton blend. Which means, per my previous entry, that it's not kosher. It's not quite as comfy as I thought it would be either. But it's purty.

The shot is a detail from a picture which was included in Sunday's bulletin. The picture is of a group who gather every Sunday morning to read and reflect on St. Benedict's Rule. We also meet the second and fourth Monday of each month.

As this picture shows, I may need more practice smiling, but I do smile.

More Recommended Reading

Both of today's readings have to do with the issue of "gay marriage," or same-sex unions. The first, directly; the second, tangetically.

First, read Elsbeth's impassioned essay, “Mrs. Omed Doesn't Care What You Believe.”

Then, read Real Live Preacher's “Where Is the Man”. This is the tangetical reading. It is part of a series in which Rev. Atkinson (RLP) retells a Bible story, and fills in some gaps in the retelling. A sort of Christian midrash, if you will.

The story here is perhaps one of the best known in the New Testament: the woman caught in adultery, normally placed at John 8:1-11. Some translations place it at the end of John, some place it Luke. So far as I know, this is the only story in the NT that doen't have a fixed home.

For me the point of the story is that we are all sinners. Or, if you prefer, all of us have fallen short of perfection. Elsewhere, Jesus advises a person to be more concerned about the huge cancer on their own soul before worrying about the speck in somebody else's eye.

So, where do our fundy friends get off striving to enact their prejudice against the (perceived) sin of homosexuality in state constitutions? Or worse, the national constitituion? Are one of them capable of picking up that stone?

How can my Episcopal brothers and sisters say this is the one sin that bars one from the ministry? Are any one of them free of sin?

I wondered for some time why this is the one sin that bothers some Anglicans so much. Aside from the obvious controversy of anything sexual, I can think of only one: the fact that the person persists in his or her sin. If a person concludes their sexual activity was indeed a perversion, and enters into a hetrosexual relationship, that person may be ordained. Or, even if that person sincerly believes their sexual preference is innate, they may be ordained so long as they don't act on that preference.

The first option seems alright, except for the fact that it contradicts twenty years of psychological theory (Anglicans are generally friendlier toward science than the fundies). The second option is just cruel.

Something that may be translated as "homosexuality" is mentioned about four times in the Bible (both testaments). The first, and most infamous, and Leviticus. I say "infamous" because there are so many things in Leviticus most modern Christians ignore. We eat pork. Women go to church during menses. We wear clothes made from a variety of fabrics (some totally unknown during Biblical times).

The fundies have a justification for this cherry-picking, of course. Something about Peter and being released from the dietary laws. And, apparantly, they've drawn a similar conclusion about social laws, such as women being unclean during menses.

Let's skip stuff like that. Let's go to the big ten. Do you know someone who truly honors the Sabbath? Our Orthodox friends, as I learned from The Rabbi of 89th Street, refuse to travel on the Sabbath. Their synogues, or other places of worship, are within walking distance. They won't fly on the Sabbath.

Do you know anyone who takes the Sabbath that seriously? Does one of our fundy friends? They tape their religious broadcasts on Sunday (the Christian sabbath), which means that they encourage others to work on that day.

Some fundies would ignore the Old Testament altogether, saying Christ's sacrifice released us from that old covenant. Yet, the divorce rate is highest among our fundamentalist brothers and sisters. In Matthew especially, Jesus condemns divorce. Paul has a pretty low opinion of it as well. It's even worse if the person remarries.

So, all those fundies who have divorced and remarried are persisting in their sin.

No wonder Brother Dave and Dr Omed think Christians are hypocrites. Because so very many are.

Friday's Cat

Proptor Chorum

I suppose when I say Gen. Powell lost his credibility after the U.N. fiasco, I may be preaching to the choir. I suppose saying things look very bleak in Iraq is preaching to the choir.

I suppose challenging all those Red folk to question the reasons for attacking Iraq is so much wasted breath. Few stop by this space in the blog hinterlands, after all.

What's so bad about preaching to the choir? Sometimes, the choir needs encouragement.

And, who knows? Maybe someone outside the choir will hear, or rather truly listen, mark your words and seriously consider them.

If I say the so-called justifications for entering this war do not rise to the level required for a Pre-emptive strike, few would disagree. However, I would go further, and quote Brother Dave:

The invasion of Iraq is a PREVENTIVE war not the PREEMPTIVE war the regime has taught everyone to say. Under existing international law and the UN Charter, PREVENTIVE war (I think you might do something bad some day so I'll whack you now) is illegal. Therefore, it is very plausible to argue that every act flowing from that invasion is also illegal.

Hear that? "Every act." Not just the prison abuse, not just shooting an unarmed prisoner in the head, not just the things that the grunts get blamed for. No, this goes all the way up the chain of the command.

Every act is illegal. Every act, every death, is the responsibility of those who ordered the initial attack. Every act, an impeachable office.

I will not say innocent blood is on the hands of each person who placed a check in the Republican column. America was sold a bill of goods. Many people bought it, sincerely believing the goods were quality merchandise. I've done the same, under different circumstances. We're human. We make mistakes.

The choir saw the mistake early on. The choir must befriend the congregation and show them the facts. Challenge them to study both sides: not just the Drudge Report, but Talking Points Memo as well. If they're truly hardy and open minded souls, send ’em to Buzz Flash

I'll preach to the choir. But, I will sing my sermon. My high tenor voice carries over the din of the madding crowd. I have no control over who hears my song, or how they interpret it. I can only pray that the spirit of my song will touch their heart, and teach it to walk in paths of beauty.

This is a day of peace.
This is a day of peace.
This is a day the Lord has made.
This is a day of peace.

Quote d’jour

[We must let] the deep compassion of the soul shine like a lighthouse beacon onto our world's rocky and dangerous shoreline. I know I am not that great beacon. I am only the old woman who lives alone in the lighthouse and cares for the light, cleaning its great clear lenses, tending to its stores of energy, making sure the light does not go out. Forever, as long as I can.
— Clarissa Pinkola Estes, author of Women Who Run With Wolves

What I'm Reading

I just finished reading the latest Harry Potter book (Order of the Phoenix); which, in trade paperback, is 870 pages long. I've started the Pevear and Volokhonsky translation of Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, which runs a little over 700 pages. And, I'm over half-way through The Rabbi of 84th St, which is 200 pages long.

Did I mention that I often read more than one book at a time?

Sounds like an eclectic reading list, nu?

The biography of Rabbi Nesser has obvious spiritual overtones, and Karamazov is a recognized classic of proto-existentialism, but what the heck is Harry Potter doing there?

The Potter books, like most fantasy, involve a classic battle between good and evil. And, as in most fantasy, good typically wins. Order of the Phoenix, the most recent entry, is famously darker than its predecessors. But the novel still ended, for me, with a hint of hope. And, let's face it, if the series ends with the bad guy winning, there's going to be a slew of upset parents and children in the world.

Harry Potter, or the good guys, will probably ultimately win. But Harry Potter is decidedly not the same boy we started the series with. In this latest novel, I kept wondering why his friends stick around. The boy is described as shouting, or snapping at, his friends on a frequent basis. Why do they stick with him?

It turns out that Potter has some sort of psychic connection with the dark wizard, Voldemort, who killed Harry's parents. So he is being infected by evil, in a manner of speaking. This explains Harry's petulant behavior to the reader, but the other characters don't know about it until a little half-way through the novel.

For me, this is where spirituality becomes practical.


For in pondering why people would put up with Harry Potter, even though he's often unpleasant, I have to wonder why people put up with me — even though I have my unpleasant moments. We're buds, right? I can be as honest and self-revealing as I dare?

Alright. I am still learning to manage my temper. I've learned the triggers, I've learned some appropriate ways to express the true feelings anger so often masks (fear, insecurity, etc). But I still have a ways to go. It's common that I think I've got it mastered, when it comes out sideways in some wild passive-aggressive manner.

Yet, people still call me friend. They still care for me, flashes of anger and all.

This came home to me recently. Following a meeting of the group that arranged the Faith Sharing event for convention, I admitted I was the most overly-serious person in the group. And Gayle said, "I know James; I love you anyway."

Prior to this time, I hadn't considered Gayle more than a casual friend. But, to hear her say she loved me (in that agape Christian sense, no doubt) - a door opened in my heart.

People like me for what I am most of the time. They don't judge me for what I'm like when I'm under pressure. And you know what? I'm probably not as bad under pressure as I think. Some people have even told me I chair a pretty good meeting (if you want it to end on time, I'm your man).

I really do try to accept people right where they're at. If they tell me something about themselves, or their goals, I tend to believe them. I give folk the benefit of the doubt until the preponderance of evidence convinces me otherwise.

I suppose the characters in the Harry Potter books like him for who he is most of the time. The reader is just seeing how he responds under pressure. But, in theory, the other characters see him at times the reader does not. They see him in class. They know he treats people with respect. They admire his knowledge, and his willingness to share it.

Not a bad way to travel in the world.

Nu?

The General Who Cried "WMD"

Give me five reasons I should believe this. Honestly, I suspect it is true. But given the fact that this "good soldier" fell on his sword, and compromised his integrity, to present questionable evidence before the UN, I'm inclined to question it.

On the other hand, I suspect Gen. Powell has a calendar in his office where he is counting down the days until he leaves.

While I'm here, and thinking tangetically to the topic of the cabinet of our handsome leader's second term, let me draw your thoughts back to the second debate, which was in a "town hall" format. You may recall that one of the "undecided" citizens asked GWB if he had any regrets from his first term. His response was telling, in light of recent events: he only regretted appointing certain people. He didn't name names, but it was generally assumed he meant folk who had spoken out against administration policies or had disagreed with him.

Now, he's going to use his "political capital", and a Repugnant-controlled Congress, to pack his cabinet with yea-sayers.

Excuse me, I've got to watch that cartoon again. Depression imminent....

A Word From Our Sponsor

Judy sent me a link to this Fiore cartoon. For those who believe I don't smile enough, I laughed out loud when I watched it.

You will want to turn up the volume a pinch, in order to fully appreciate the cartoon

It's work safe, so long as your cubicle is relatively isolated, or your office is one of those "blue islands" I hear tell of.

Enjoy!

About Nov. 17

In re: my previous post.

As it turned out, "fear" was too strong a word. But yesterday did develop into a very interesting, sometimes stressful day.

Many days are rather slow, and I have to dream of things to do. Those are days when my blog writing is especially prolific (if uneven).

Other days, I have one main project, and I have the luxury of focusing primarily on that project.

Yesterday was one of those days where I thought I could focus on one project, and have some time left over for a personal project, but circumstances led elsewhere. I'd work on one thing, then get called off to do something else. It was definitely a "one step forward, two steps back" kind of day.

The chair of our department was in a micromanaging mood yesterday, and this was one of those circumstances that prevented me from focusing on the project I thought would get top priority for the day. When she came to my desk five minutes before my normal lunch time (12:30), I did not demure; I gave her my full attention, and collected the information she requested immediately. However, when she asked that I do some photocopying for her, I did ask if it could wait until after I had lunch.

By the way, she most likely has no clue when I normally go to lunch.

I went to lunch at 12:45 (no great sacrifice, there), but decided I couldn't afford to take a full hour (a luxury we state employees are afforded) because I had a meeting to set up for at two. I was all prepared to read more of the Rabbi book, when I ran into Judy in the hospital cafeteria. Judy is the editor of OU Medicine magazine, which is published by the OU Medicine Alumni Foundation.

Judy had also been having an interesting day, as it turned out. But mostly, we talked about books and politics. Judy is also a liberal Democrat, so we could commiserate and vent freely.

Later, yesterday afternoon, I visited with Aimee, in the Office of Research Administration. She also had been having an interesting day.

It's too early for the full moon, isn't it?

Seventeen Reasons to Fear November 17

1. Woke up with a woody
2. Maybe you were dreaming of her
3. Can't have her
4. Also woke at 12:30 a.m.
5. Didn't start obsessing for about 30 minutes
6. Tried prayer. Was distracted by obsessing. Prayer. Obsession. Prayer. Obsession. Somewhere on that see-saw, you got bored with it all, and fell asleep.
7. It's raining
8. It's cold outside
9. The clouds are prison guards
10. It's Wednesday
11. Did I mention you were only obsessing about why you woke up?
12. Throat hurts from eating too much sugar
13. Can't have her
14. It's dark outside
15. Arthritis in your left pinky joint & in your back
16. You have to go to work
17. Words fail you
18. GWB is president. The world is coming to an end.
19. You can't have her.

Idée d’jour

My aim is to agitate and disturb people. I'm not selling bread, I'm selling yeast.
— Miguel de Unamuno, writer and philosopher (1864-1936)

Man, we need some of that yeast!

Idée d’jour

Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title.
— Virginia Woolf, writer (1882-1941)

I'm not sure I know my past by heart. There is much lost to my memory, especially anything earlier than the age of six. And there are days I feel like I hardly know my own title.

Postcards (&c)

Pictured: twin postcards. One realized, one in process. On the left, the card I received from Sam about a week ago. As you might imagine, I praised its charming home-made quality as well as the verse. You probably can't read Sam's poem, but I believe it is her right to share it (or not) as she chooses. Her poem is a Vietnamese verse form called Luc-Bat; not having read previous examples of this form, I'm very impressed with the product. I'm also impressed by Sam's knowledge of non-traditional foreign verse forms, and her willingness to try them out.

On the right, you see a draft of the poem I mailed Sam on Saturday. Having less confidence in my skills in the plastic arts, I sent Sam a commercially-produced card. This time, I sent her a picture of a brindled cat - who might be a cousin of Dame Julian. Her use of a rhyming verse form inspired me to try something more formal. As I explain below, I didn't aim for a particular verse form. Instead, I started with a rhythm, and tried to see if I could maintain that rhythm for more than six lines. For most of the poem, my rhyme scheme is ABAB.

With the exception of the first two lines, most of this was written at the public library. I found a quiet corner, and started writing. Writing at home is problematic, as my kitten perceives the moving pen as an invitation to play. You ever tried concentrating on scansion while your pen was under attack?

But, in a typical authorial delaying tactic, before I started writing, I picked up some books from the "Newly Received" shelves. One was the book of Gary Snyder poetry, which I quote below. I checked out the other, The Rabbi of 84th Street : The Extraordinary Life of Haskel Besser. I'm over half-way through this biography, and I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Recommended.

After I went as far as I could with this little study, I moved to a table near the magazines to begin the painstaking process of translating my chicken scratching into neat printing on the card to be sent to Sam. Although I am almost as self-conscious about my printing as I am my cursive, there have been fewer complaints about the former.

Being so close to the magazines, I noticed the headlines on last week's Christian Century: “What Would Buffy Do?”, along with a couple of other titles caught my eye. The Buffy article was actually a review of a book of the same name (along with The Gospel According to Disney; in brief, the reviewer seemed to appreciate books which strive to dialogue between Christ and popular culture.

There was also an editorial responding to the Eames report concerning the ordination of a gay bishop in the Episcopal Church. The editorial basically said the U.S. church erred in acting pre-emptively. It's a troubling question. I have argued against the pre-emptive invasion of Iraq, and I believe the issues have some similarity. At the same time, I think all the hub-bub about ordination of gays or recognition of same-sex unions is disproptionate to the weight of the issue. It's a question I'm still pondering, and will no doubt return to as I work on it.

Idée d’jour

Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
— Albert Camus, writer and philosopher (1913-1960)

It's kinda hard to picture the guy who wrote "The Myth of Sisyphus" and The Stranger as having said something so romantic and hopeful.

The Moral Christian

With appreciation to William Blake

The Moral Christian cries ‘I know it all’
& there his Soul takes her Fall.
For, when Jesus comes with compass wide
& measure's him by his own Soul's pride,
Then he shall utterly be lost
& on Pride's torment be tossed.

Why were Adam & Eve from Eden cast?
Have we learned naught from our past?
T’was not from Knowledge, but from its desire
That the Angel was sent with sword of fire.

Jesus died for our sins, not our minds
Yet today I often find
Those who crucify their mind for his sake
& of Moral Commandments partake.

Say as you please, these
Are like the Pharisees:
Cruel lawyers who chose
To have their faith in neat rows
Of firm commandments, unchanging Laws
Which never was the Master's cause.
God's Love they would enumerate
& with a compass draw its boundary
& thus they seal their fate
As they pass judgement on me.

Does not God's Love speak to each Heart
In its own tongue? Are we not all part
Of the Holy Ghost, who lives in every soul
That we may be alive & whole?

The true Saints are those
Who heed their Holy Ghost
As She reveals that Love
Proper for each moment. Love
Is not fixed as is Moral Law —
Love is superior by far.

Love changes with each changing face
& so spreads, to save our race.

Some would call it sympathy,
But that is not the word for me;
‘God is Love,’ I sang as a child
And only now is its meaning revealed.

This is the Revolution I seek most:
When each Heart & Soul heeds its Holy Ghost.

14.December.1980

---

I sent my poetic postcard to Sam yesterday. In a back channel e-mail, I described it thus:

The text is something of an etude; which is to say, a little study or practice toward some sense of meter. I started with a line - inspired by my Photoshop trickery with the pics of DJ and clover - and tried to maintain a regular rhythm and (semi) regular rhyme from there. Not much of a plot; perhaps a couple of interesting images. Otherwise, trying to rediscover word music.

For some reason, this reminded me of another time I just wrote for rhythm and rhyme. The result, as you see, is the mirror-image of those awful didactic moralistic Christian poems preserved on certain greetings cards, and the Chicken Soup(®) books.

As the dedication indicates, I had been reading quite a bit of Blake's rhyming verse. His notebooks are full of doggerel-like etudes. They are equally full of flashes of brilliance and insight. My guess is I was steeped in things like “Auguries of Innocence” and “The Everlasting Gospel” when I wrote this. I would never claim that this measures up to even the least of Blake's doggerel. I'm just admitting that his rhythm and rhyme were bouncing in my head as I wrote it.

I will say that my theology has not changed much since I wrote this. I still believe that, when our life closes, we will measure ourselves by the same compass we have used when judging others. The plumb-line, to use the Old Testament figure, will be how much we have loved; not how much we have judged.

Quote d’jour

The men & women who
died at the World Trade Center
   together with the
Buddhas of Bamiyan,
   Take refuge in the dust.
— Gary Snyder, after Dennis Dutton, Danger on Peaks, pg 102; ©2004, Shoemaker Hoard, Washington, DC

Green

Frost on dying grass;
blind windows face fog-washed streets:
green November morn.

5.XI.04

---

Postcard sent to Sam, which she just received yesterday. You see, it's a bit of a drive from her front porch to the little general store where the post office is.

Theme & Variation

To make plain things I alluded to in the previous post

The Diocesean Convention for the Episcopal Church in Oklahoma is this weekend. Official business began this morning, and the convention ends tomorrow afternoon. The Diocese of Oklahoma includes the whole state. You may be familiar with the controversy concerning the ordination of Gene Robinson as bishop; you may be aware of the so-called Eames Report. Unless you live in (or near) Oklahoma, you may not know that our bishop voted in support of Robinson's ordination.

Oklahoma is one of those "red states" which voted for an amendment to the state constitution which not only refused to recognize "gay marriage", it also denied the possibilitiy of any sort of "domestic partnership." So, you can imagine how controversial Bishop Moody's vote was in his home state. A number of Episcopal churches have lost members because of it.

Each year, the convention is hosted by a congregation — one year, a congregation in the southern half of the state; the next year, in the northern half. This year, the Cathedral played host.

As you may recall, I was involved in a process called "Faith Sharing", in which people shared stories of how they experienced God in their lives. This was something different than your typical conversion story, or come to Jesus tent revival. The idea was to look at significant times in your life, and discern what your experience of God was during those times. I was part of the inaugural group, who then became leaders of other groups.

These groups have been very successful. The decision was made, around June or July, to offer a sample of Faith Sharing to those attending Convention. Last night was an unofficial pre-Convention dinner, and Faith Sharing was served along with dessert.

I was among the people "responsible" for coordinating the volunteers and planning for this part of the dinner. I confess that I've been increasingly anxious as the date has approached. I've been a bit of a grump, and maybe a tad testier than normal.

And now it's over. Based on the half-dozen comments I heard last night, it was a positive experience for the conventioneers (about 171 attended dinner, and most of these participated in the Faith Sharing workshop).

It seems to me a good step towards healing the rift the ordination of Bishop Robinson opened. Also seems instructive as a way for Episcopalians can do evangelism.

Friday's Cat

She doesn't care about Arafat. She'd rather play in clover. She doesn't know who is president. She doesn't care. She just wants your undivided attention. She's not watching television. She's watching you.

She hears you hiss. She's not fooled, but she is startled. She didn't know you were bilingual. You just need to work on your accent. She certainly does not understand your language. It meant nothing to her when you told her you would be late getting home last night. All she knows is the sound of the garage door rolling up, then down. She knows the sound of the food bag opening. The sound of the cabinet, as you open the door to get her treats.

She doesn't know about your stress. She doesn't know that stroking her fur helps relieve that stress. But she doesn't mind the attention.

She sees the world as a playground. Can you take lessons from her? For you, the world is a too-tight garment. Can't you ease the world off your shoulders just a bit?

It's been an anxious few weeks. Much of that time, you chose to see yourself as being "in charge" of something. At every turn, people had different visions, and circumstances beyond anyone's control created roadblocks. But the event happened last night, and it all worked out. The comments you heard where positive.

Someone asked if you enjoyed yourself. And you asked yourself, once again, ‘What does joy feel like?’ Just as you've asked yourself, any number of times, ‘What does love feel like?’

You might as well as ‘What does feeling feel like?’


She knows what it feels like when you play with her. She knows how it feels when she curls in your lap and you scratch her head. It feels good. That's all she needs. It feels as soft and warm as a purr.

It's good. And that's all she needs to know.

Idée d’jour

I love my country too much to be a nationalist.
— Albert Camus, writer, philosopher, Nobel laureate (1913-1960)