Tuesday mornings

Most Tuesday mornings I go over to St. Peter's Episcopal Church, a couple of blocks away to meet with 'the boys (and sometimes, Sandy)'.

There are never more than 7 of us. We have Eucharist and then coffee and talk.

We talk about politics and church (those two mostly), sometimes sports or movies or books, tell lame jokes and rehash stuff over and over.

I give Andy grief about the Creed and tedious liturgical practice and some times we wax almost eloquent about this or that.

We just show up and see what happens.

Everyone needs, it seems to me, a group like Tuesday morning group for me.

Just a place to say whatever you want and listen if you want to and settle the problems of the world and drink a little coffee.

A place with no real expectations or assumptions or requirements.

It can either be mostly meaningless with a magic moment in there or rather gripping with some blank spaces.

Just showing up is enough.

You might find a group like that--a place to just 'be' and be together and see what happens. It works for me. I keep going.....

Let's give Trump a break (did I write that???)

So, Donald Trump was speaking today at Liberty University, deep in Falwell country, and was quoting a passage from Second Corinthians.

II Corinthians  has a passage about the love of Christ giving 'liberty' and Trump was using it to sing the praises of the uber-Christian university named 'Liberty'.

Well, the Donald said, "Two Corinthians says...."

National news that he didn't say "Second Corinthians".

Give me a break. I've said "Two Corinthians" before.

It's incorrect, of course, but is it national news?

I think not, beloved.

In a perfect media world, the press would be following the debates on policy in the primaries. Instead, we get to hear over and over whatever the hell Trump is saying that day.

"Two Corinthians walk into a bar...."

Making Things

I just came across this poem I wrote for the staff of St. John's when I retired. They were so much more talented and wise than me (though not as funny!) I did not deserve them. Mostly I tried to stay out of their way! Like the general riding through town shouting, "Get out of the way! That is my army up there ahead! I am their leader, I must catch up!!!"

I thought I'd share it with you.

MAKING THINGS

Most of the best things require

       only a few ingredients.

Flour, water, yeast, a pinch of salt

      (a pinch of sugar too, I’d say) and time:

       kneading , rising, kneading, rising, kneading,

       baking—you’ve got bread.

Grape juice, sugar, yeast (again) and more time…

        there’s the wine.

A simple reed, plucked from the marsh,

        a sharp knife and breath makes music.

Paper, thin wood, some string, a tail and patience

        makes a kite and flight….

Then there is this—what you have made,

        perhaps not knowing….

                   The Patience you needed to deal with me!

                    The Commitment and Skill you brought to the mix.

                     The Hope and Trust to make it

                               Rise

                              Ferment

                              Sing

                               Fly.

                     And dollop after dollop of Great Good Humor—

                             that most of all.

few ingredients, but enough and more,

to make my life here joyous, wondrous, profound, incredible, magic

                      and so much fun….so much fun….

And I thank you for the feast of life, the song and the flight.

jgb/April 29, 2010

I'd rather be just than popular...

The meeting of the Primates of the Anglican Communion in Canterbury has 'suspended' the Episcopal Church for 3 years. What that means is vague and not yet nailed down--but it is a result of the Primates bending to the will of the Anglicans in the southern hemisphere who are (for many reasons) opposed to same sex marriage and gay clergy.

The Episcopal Church is the sacrificial lamb to keep the Communion together. The Anglicans of Africa and other parts of the southern hemisphere had threatened to leave the world-wide communion over the actions of the Episcopal Church and the Church of Canada because those two of the Provinces of the Anglican Church are far ahead of the rest of Communion on issues of sexuality.

No need to wring your hands and say 'Lordy, Lordy, what are we to do?"

We will keep on 'doing' what we do in spite of this 'suspension'. We are still part of the Anglican Communion--we'll have voice but no 'vote'. We have been disenfranchised. Second class citizens in the rarefied air of the Anglican Communion.

A majority of Anglicans in the world are in Africa. Majority rules. I get it. I was never enthralled by the Anglican Communion to begin with--and I'd rather be 'just' than popular.

You notice I said 'just' and not 'right'. Let the rest of the world-wide church worry about what's 'right'. A majority of Anglicans believe deeply that they are 'right' and the Episcopal Church is 'wrong' about homo-sexuality. So be it. I'd rather be 'just' than 'right' as well.

The Episcopal Church has extended the sacraments of marriage and ordination to our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. That is 'just' and as it should be. No 'second class' Episcopalians.

So, since we refuse to assign 'second class' status to any Episcopalian, I'm more than willing to be 'second class' Anglicans!

The actions of the Primates is understandable given the social mores of the African Anglicans. We may have to lead from the outside for now--fully including all Christians while some of the rest of the Communion still dwells in a place where homosexuality is not only rejected but is illegal.

Pray for the GLBTQ folks in those countries where they are not just excluded, but sometimes persecuted. Pray for the Anglican Communion. Pray for the Episcopal Church and give thanks that we have found the love and courage to be inclusive in the face of the world-wide Church's resistance to justice.

4 Sentences to Wisdom

I'm a big fan of Louise Penny, a Canadian writer, and the protagonist of her 10 or so novels, Chief Inspector Gamache of the Quebec Provincial Police. Penny is no normal mystery writer--her books are full of lyricism, poetry and quirky humor. Her characters, honed over several books, are complex, deep and real.

And Gamache is not your normal cop--he is introspective, deeply philosophical, remarkably well read, fully fluent in English and French, gentle, kind and powerful in all that.

In her first novel of the series, Gamache tells a trainee the four sentences he had been told as a young man by his mentor that led, Gamache believes, to Wisdom.

Here they are:

"I'm sorry."

"I don't know."

"I need help."

"I was wrong."

Eleven words for a path to Wisdom.

What the four sentences share is humility, relationship and openness to the unexpected.

I can't for the life of me conjure  up 11 words--or 111, if it comes to that--that could be more valuable in the pursuit of Wisdom or the path to being profoundly and authentically human.

I offer them to you as a gift, with my love.

And as the African saying goes, "if the gift is not welcome, send it back to me with your love."

Hoping against hope

I whispered a little prayer awhile ago that something good in on TV tonight.

Why? you might ask.

So I won't be tempted to watch the Republican debate.

It will make me crazy if I do, but unless there is a really good option, I won't be able to help myself.

It's a bit like when I'm walking Bela and he smells some old poop. He knows I don't want him to go sniff it (much less take a bite of it! Dogs are nasty....) yet he can't help himself when it comes to poop.

It's like that for me and the Republican debates.

I know I shouldn't...I know it's not good for me...I know I'll scold myself for doing it...

But when it comes to poop (sorry, I mean the Republican debate!!!) I'm just like my dog, Bela.

The big chill

I'm setting here in a long sleeve pullover,  pullover sweater, sweat shirt and my bathrobe--for the first time today I feel warm. It's 10 pm on Wednesday, no matter what time the blog says it was when I wrote this!

Maybe all that warm weather didn't let our blood thicken up and suddenly 10 degrees feels like something closer to absolute zero.

Most of my life, I hated the cold. I grew up in an apartment without central heat and the coal stove in the living room would burn down about 3 am and I'd wake up to see my breath.

Used to be, people would ask me in August, 'hot enough for  you?' and I'd say, 'no way! bring on the heat and ratchet up that humidity too!'

Well, as I've aged, the heat doesn't suit me like it used to.

I've tried to convince myself that I now like the cold. Tonight convinces me otherwise....

I need a place to live where spring and fall are the only seasons--with one snowfall on Christmas day.

Any suggestions?