Growing up with baseball

I'm sure I've told you that some patriot gave my father and several of his buddies tickets to a World Series game in New York when they were soldiers waiting to sail to England.

The only major league game my father ever saw was between the Brooklyn Dodgers and New York Yankees. He decided that which ever team won would be 'his team'. The Yankees won.

So I grew up in southern West Virginia as a Yankee fan.

The sportscaster on channel 6 in Bluefield would begin his broadcast by saying, "let's see who the Yankees clobbered."

This was Ford and Mantle and Maris and Kubeck and Richardson and Skowren and Elston Howard's Yankees. They clobbered a lot of teams.

This year the Yankees have the second best record in baseball, just below the now Los Angeles Dodgers.

And they're doing it with lots of injuries to major players and lots of heroics from very young guys.

Could the Yankees be rebuilding their dynasty? I hope so.

(Here's a secret: I hate, I mean 'hate' the Red Sox! That could get me in trouble with lots of people I know and like in Connecticut. But it's true.)

The Red Sox are playing the Dodgers tonight. In spite of my father's loyalties, I say, "Go Dodgers!!!"

And the Yankees are clobbering Toronto 4-0 after 7.

Go Yankees!

I love them.....Sorry Boston fans....

HWWNBN gives up!!!

The President (He Who Will Not Be Named) today announced he's giving up on getting the "Is this person a Citizen of the U.S." question into the 2020 census.

The Commerce Department days ago accepted the Supreme Court's ruling and is already printing the form without the question.

That question would have caused a remarkable under count of Hispanics and affected the distribution of money and House of Representatives seats to many states. That was the President's plan all along.

God bless Chief Justice Roberts who has become the swing vote on the court.

And long may Justice Ginsberg live so the President can't appoint another justice before the election.

As tenuous as it is, it feels like the Supreme Court and the House of Representatives are all that stand between our country and the abyss.

I hate to sound so negative, "half full" being my middle name (that's for Charles), but just like in parts of California, the ground is very shaky these days.

And, please God, Democrats quit fighting!!!

I'm a democratic socialist, but beating the Incumbent (who will not be named) is more important right now than doctrinal purity. I hate to say that because I agree with Bernie and AOL and all the ultra-progressives, but we democrats have to get the priorities straight--that means taking back the Senate, holding and increasing the House and winning that other house (the White One).

Focus people.

Focus and organize and fight.

The abyss is near.

walking on the edge

This is something I wrote in 2001--18 years ago in the newsletter for St. John's, Waterbury. But in these times, it rings true still. We need to be edgy. We really do.

THE VIEW FROM ABOVE THE CLOSE

                               Walking to the edge, then walking off…

          In my sermon on September 9, I used a quote Jennifer Hornbeck, St. John’s seminarian in 2000-2001 wrote to me.  Jen neglected to tell me who said or wrote the quote—though I intend to ask her the next time she calls—but so many people asked me about it I felt I should include it in this month’s VIEW.

                             “When we walk on the edge

                                 of all the light we have

                              and step off into the unknown,

                               we must believe that one

                                 of two things will happen:

                             There will be something solid

                                  for us to stand on

                                        or

                               we will be taught to fly.”

          Walking on the edge is an apt metaphor for the life of faith.  We are called by God out to the margins both to touch and be touched by those ‘on the margins’  of life and to risk walking off into what is unknown.

           I used to have a poster on the wall of my office in my first parish. The poster was a beautiful picture of sailboats at anchor in a harbor surrounded by beautiful hillsides. The water was glassy still. The sailboats were new, well built, shining in the sun.  The words on the poster said: SHIPS IN A HARBOR ARE SAFE, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT SHIPS ARE FOR….

          The Life of Faith calls us to the open seas, to unknown waters, to encounter storms and risk the wrath of the winds.  But what we want—deep down—is to rest at anchor. What we want is to “be safe….”  Stepping off the edge requires courage and trust and faith.

          I have come more and more lately to believe that God is calling each of us as Christians to "walk on the edge…then walking off” in our lives. To be Jesus People we must live with risk and commitment and adventure. The tricky part of it all is that we aren’t all called to the same edge.  You may be called to a vastly different “edge” of your life than the person sitting beside you on Sunday morning. You may be called to take your moral stand into the political realm—fighting for some noble cause.  Or you may be called to endure with patience and courage some illness in your life or the life of someone you love.  Or you may be called to stand up against racism or discrimination in your workplace. Or you may be called to sacrifice higher pay and a more prestigious job in order to spend enough time with your children. Or you may be called to befriend someone who needs your support even though it is costly to you in terms of time and energy. Or you may be called to make a change in your personal habits in order to enhance the lives of those who love you.  Or you may be called to resist gain that you could achieve by “bending the rules”.  Or you may be called to give more generously—even sacrificially—to help those in need.

          I could go on and on. Each of us must discover the edge God is calling us as a person to walk off of into the unknown. But I know this in a powerful and profound way—each of us is being called, in some important way, to ‘take a risk’ for God.  It is simply the nature of the Christian life.

          Every Tuesday at 9:30 a.m. and Wednesday at noon, the Eucharist is celebrated in the Chapel of St. James next to the north wall of the church.  The readings we use come from a remarkable little book called Lesser Feasts and Fasts. Week after week, year after year, we recall those who are on the Calendar of Saints of the Episcopal Church.  All those folks walked to the edge and then off into the unknown. Many of them gave up their freedom, their security, even their lives for their faith.  Not all of us are called to be martyrs—in fact, only a scant few of all Christians are called to that ultimate risk.  But we are all called to the ‘edge’.  And we must all believe that when we finally accept that call, one of two things will happen. Either there will be “something solid” to stand on or “we will be taught to fly….”

          Listen for God’s call. Seek out the ‘edge’ of life God is calling you to. And have faith—your foot will hit something solid or God will teach you to fly….

                                                          Shalom,

                                                                             Jim

Zoom

 I have been on two Zoom calls in the last two days.

I wasn't even sure I could do it, but I did. A bit proud of myself, by the way.

It's much better than phone calls because you can see all the people and watch their faces. There were 18 or so of us, filling my computer screen and two folks who called in who were called by name on two black screens.

It was not the way I would choose to spend an afternoon from 3 until 5:30, but (and this is a compliment--not awful.)

I really care for all the people on zoom--some I have known for years and so just since the Forgiveness workshop in NY I wrote about earlier.

I'm not given much to do--either in the workshop or on the call today--since I haven't really been involved in designing the workshop. And that's fine. I enjoy watching the other leaders do their thing and learning from them.

And learning most of all from the participants.

The best way to be, I have learned over my life and almost 40 years of priesthood, is what I know from all my reading of mystery novels--the best way to learn what you need to know is to listen.

And I mean 'listening' like a commitment, not just like most 'listening' which is a time of silence composing what you intend to say next.

"Listening" is the key to life, if we do it correctly.

Clear your mind of proposed comments on what is being said and don't imagining what you would say in response. Just 'be in the moment' and 'listen'.

I promise you, it's worth it.

Some stuff....

All praise to the American women's soccer team!!! My son, Josh, taught me to like soccer after he spent a year in England working at a pub near Chelsea's field.

And good for them for suing for equal pay with American men and for not wanting to go to the White House. (The women's team, by the way, has brought in more money to the American Soccer Association than the men's team in each of the last three years!)

The President gave a speech today about his environmental achievements. Give me a break! He has set us back a decade in leaving the Paris agreement and rescinding almost every regulation on the books.

He also (once again) pounded on one of our closest allies (Great Britain) because of leaked memos from the English ambassador calling him inept, unreliable and not up to the job. All of which are true.

The administration lied horribly over the weekend about how good the detention centers on the southern boarder were.

I told Bern tonight that 'nothing is REAL any more'.

She replied that she wanted to live to be a hundred to see if we ever got things 'back to normal'.

I think we will, though the President is doing better in head to head polls with Democrats that before now. But I'm an optimist. "Half Full" should be my middle name.

Good dog, Bridget

Bridget is the best dog ever. So sweet and so good.

But she doesn't know the command 'come'.

She knows 'sit' and 'stay' but not 'come'.

We're going to try and teach her because the way we air condition our house requires it.

We have a huge air conditioner in my office by the back steps and a fan on a book shelf half way down the steps that keeps the downstairs cool beyond belief.

But the door to the hallway upstairs on my office has to stay shut.

When we try to get her to 'come' downstairs that way, she hesitates so long we shut the door.

There is an air conditioner in our TV room and there is a curtain over the door way--no door on the room. Bridget won't push through the curtain like previous dogs do. She thinks it's a door. And is often laying outside it. The air conditioner in our bed room has another door. So she can't always go lay on the bed--her favorite place. She will go with Bern who goes to be before I do.

The three barriers and her not knowing 'come' causes problems several times a day.

So, we'll try to teach her in spite of the 'you can't teach an old dog new tricks' adage.

We'll see.

But we have several leads and she always dutifully comes when on lead.

She is such a good, sweet, wondrous dog that it almost seems frivolous to worry about 'come'.

But if we can teach her to 'come' she will be a perfect dog.

No kidding.

What's it all about

Every once in a while I feel the need to tell people what 'Under the Castor Oil Tree' means.

For some reason, unknown to me, tonight is one of those times. So, here it is, from 6 years ago.

Sunday, June 30, 2013

Under the Castor Oil Tree explained

I've been reading a lot of Ian Rankin's novels about a Scottish detective named John Rebus. One of the things I've noticed in all Rankin's novels is that Rebus' partner, whose name is Siobhan Clarke, always finds a way to tell someone how to pronounce her name. It is pronounced Shivon, but how would anyone know if she didn't find a way to tell them.

I recommend the series (and there are lots of them) because Rebus is tough and terribly ironic (and I love irony).

All that reminded me to tell people (maybe even some new readers) what "Under the Castor Oil Tree" means...how it's pronounced, so to speak.

My favorite book of the Bible is the book of Jonah. Jonah, you might remember, is called by God to go to Nineveh and convert the people there. He agrees to go but then takes a ship in the other direction. When the ship is about to sink, he tells the crew he has disobeyed his God, Yahweh, and the crew throws him overboard and he is swallowed by a big fish--or a whale, if you prefer, though whales are fishes--who vomits him up on the shore of Nineveh.

He argues with God throughout the book and tells him he knows God will save the people of Nineveh, so why did he drag him half-way around the known world to do it? Sure enough, God saves Nineveh and Jonah finds himself on a hill overlooking that great city 'so angry he could die'. Plus, it's getting hot.

So got causes a plant to grow to give Jonah shade. Then, that night, God sends a worm to kill the plant.

Which just gives Jonah one more thing to whine about. "Why did you kill my plant?" he cries out to God, once again 'so angry he could die'.

So God tells him something like this: "Jonah, why are you so worried about your shade tree--that you didn't plant--when you weren't worried about all those people in Nineveh who I saved through your calling them to repent?" And something about all the animals in the city too.

And that's where the story ends. With Jonah on the hillside, sweating, pondering God's words....

Well, it so happens, some Biblical scholars think that plant, which God caused to grow to shade Jonah and then sent a worm to kill was a castor oil tree. Who knows why they think that? But nevertheless they do.

In a sense, I identify with Jonah. I never, ever intended to be an Episcopal priest. The fish (or whale) that swallowed me was the Viet Nam war. If I had gone to the University of Virginia to get a PhD in American Literature and taught that for all the years of my life like I wanted to...I would have been drafted and perhaps died in some rice patty half a world away. But I was given a 'Trial Year in Seminary' from the Rockefeller Foundation, was exempt from the draft and got hooked on Theology.

So, like Jonah, I sit under my dead Castor Oil Tree and ponder the mystery and mischievousness of God's ways.

That's why this blog is called that. In case  you wondered.