I know a wondrous girl who is smart and clear-minded. She will be a good business woman some day. She is already a daughter of the God who makes covenants agreements with faithful people to establish and assure the steadfastness of mutual promises of faith and grace.
After meeting the man her divorced mother had been dating for the first time she told her mother that she liked this man.
Later she summoned her mother to her room to announce that she had made a contract.
Her mother asked what for and the girl replied that it was a contract with the new man.
The contract read: “If you break my Mommy’s heart I will break yours.”
This girl has a voice with heart.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
2011.05.15 Paradoxical Metaphor from Biology
2011.05.15 Paradoxical Metaphor from Biology
We have so many wars we don’t know what to do with them all. Worse than old Mother Hubbard!
The latest is the war on infections, a bacteriological war, a “good” war. Still, I wonder if germs will ever befriend their destroyers or if we will ever accept death as part of ongoing life.
Don’t misunderstand me. I fear infection and bacteria and impotent anti-biotics, too. And I want to live healthy for as long as I can.
In the May 12 Boston Globe I read about “persisters.” Persisters are “bacteria that evade medications by slipping into a zombielike state, then mysteriously reawaken to cause new infections.” (Carolyn Y. Johnson, A1) Know any people or groups like this?
What awakens persisters of the bacteriological kind? Sugar. Imagine!
But in people a degree of tenacity and persistence is a good thing. It’s all in how you persist and for what? Life lived is risky.
The strategy of “persisters” is to play dead and evade the good guy anitbiotics’ detection. Clever indeed. Persisters don’t fight they just dissociate. This is how some children survive in families. They are good and quiet; they escape notice and maybe a blow or a slap or a curse. Clever—for a time.
The paradoxical metaphor is the more asleep you make yourself the more you miss— of BOTH good and evil.
I know a woman who lived dying like a clam until bacteria awakened her to illness and she came alive, discovered people loved her, chose life, then died quite alive.
Awakened, you could come out of your coma and face possible danger; or you could stay alert enough to see life in whatever tiny manifestation it might present itself. And choose it.
Which I believe is what God, according to the biblical deuteronomist, had in mind with this wisdom: “See! I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life... that you may live.”
Would that we could choose life for everyone, even bacterial types. We might perhaps have chosen to put a dent in our American persistence and brought Osama bin Laden to trial and justice instead of death.
Impossible vision? Persist in it anyway.
We have so many wars we don’t know what to do with them all. Worse than old Mother Hubbard!
The latest is the war on infections, a bacteriological war, a “good” war. Still, I wonder if germs will ever befriend their destroyers or if we will ever accept death as part of ongoing life.
Don’t misunderstand me. I fear infection and bacteria and impotent anti-biotics, too. And I want to live healthy for as long as I can.
In the May 12 Boston Globe I read about “persisters.” Persisters are “bacteria that evade medications by slipping into a zombielike state, then mysteriously reawaken to cause new infections.” (Carolyn Y. Johnson, A1) Know any people or groups like this?
What awakens persisters of the bacteriological kind? Sugar. Imagine!
But in people a degree of tenacity and persistence is a good thing. It’s all in how you persist and for what? Life lived is risky.
The strategy of “persisters” is to play dead and evade the good guy anitbiotics’ detection. Clever indeed. Persisters don’t fight they just dissociate. This is how some children survive in families. They are good and quiet; they escape notice and maybe a blow or a slap or a curse. Clever—for a time.
The paradoxical metaphor is the more asleep you make yourself the more you miss— of BOTH good and evil.
I know a woman who lived dying like a clam until bacteria awakened her to illness and she came alive, discovered people loved her, chose life, then died quite alive.
Awakened, you could come out of your coma and face possible danger; or you could stay alert enough to see life in whatever tiny manifestation it might present itself. And choose it.
Which I believe is what God, according to the biblical deuteronomist, had in mind with this wisdom: “See! I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life... that you may live.”
Would that we could choose life for everyone, even bacterial types. We might perhaps have chosen to put a dent in our American persistence and brought Osama bin Laden to trial and justice instead of death.
Impossible vision? Persist in it anyway.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
2011.05.11 How Good Godly Was Good Friday?
Haven Kimmel in her memoir, A Girl Named Zippy. Growing Up Small in Moorleland, Indiana, writes with the illuminating candor of a young girl child with an independence of spirit and a love of life that challenge and humbles the overly intellectual or anxious about naked human feelings.
Here’s what she as a child of about 8-10 has to say about Jesus:
“I wanted him to be my boyfriend. My feelings about Jesus didn’t alarm me at all, because it appeared that everyone around me was flat-out in love with him, and who wouldn’t be? He was good with animals, he loved his mother, and he wasn’t afraid of blind people. I didn’t buy the bit about his terrible death and resurrection for a minute. I knew, beyond any room for doubt, that nothing in the world is both alive and dead. And this was the thing I most wanted to say in church: if you want him to be alive, you’ve got to stop hanging him on that cross.”
Is it a word of wisdom to Christians who obsess with the cross? Is it too much Protestantism as some would say? Or is it just a kid wondering?
Myself, I think the Episcopal Church strikes the right balance between life and death in its liturgies, provided of course we get rid of the atonement idea that someone up there sent someone down here to die in order to assure us we are embraced in God’s love.
Where there is real love there is always some sacrifice for its sake, is always sacrifice, and that truth inspires. But to set it up as a demand, requirement, or guarantee of divine grace forever?
For me? No thanks. Not for my boyfriend Jesus.
Here’s what she as a child of about 8-10 has to say about Jesus:
“I wanted him to be my boyfriend. My feelings about Jesus didn’t alarm me at all, because it appeared that everyone around me was flat-out in love with him, and who wouldn’t be? He was good with animals, he loved his mother, and he wasn’t afraid of blind people. I didn’t buy the bit about his terrible death and resurrection for a minute. I knew, beyond any room for doubt, that nothing in the world is both alive and dead. And this was the thing I most wanted to say in church: if you want him to be alive, you’ve got to stop hanging him on that cross.”
Is it a word of wisdom to Christians who obsess with the cross? Is it too much Protestantism as some would say? Or is it just a kid wondering?
Myself, I think the Episcopal Church strikes the right balance between life and death in its liturgies, provided of course we get rid of the atonement idea that someone up there sent someone down here to die in order to assure us we are embraced in God’s love.
Where there is real love there is always some sacrifice for its sake, is always sacrifice, and that truth inspires. But to set it up as a demand, requirement, or guarantee of divine grace forever?
For me? No thanks. Not for my boyfriend Jesus.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
2011.05.05 Another "Happy" Ending?
Today is el Cinco de May, May 5th, when in 1862 Mexicans in the Battle of Puebla defended themselves and defeated mighty French forces. A David and Goliath story. A day to commemorate unexpected reversals.
That is hardly the case in the Bin Laden death. I make no defense of terrorists or their tactics which seem to me to be insanely desperate, but ................ we are Goliath, for gods sake, not David!
I was disturbed to see front page photos of Americans waving flags and cheering about the death of Osama bin Laden, terrorism master mind.
The President spoke of justice. I understand the idea but for me it makes no sense in the face of so much tragedy.
People imagine this a happy ending?
I am a Christian;I do not cheer for anyone’s death. The Old Testament prophet Ezekiel tells us that God “desires the death of no one.”
As a Christian too I know that death is an opening to new life.
Osama has been a source of great fear in this country post- 9/11 but I feel cautious about too much hoopla of joy or relief. The apparent victory could encourage more resolve in terrorists, inflame their religious culture that honors martyrdom. The passion to serve God by being a martyr is not an impossible outcome of too much cheering too soon. Hardly a “happy ending.”
A Muslim woman, originally from Pakistan, Naila Baloch, spoke wisdom at our recent clergy conference. Naila is one of a group of Muslims who pray their Friday noonday prayers at the Episcopal cathedral in Boston.
She said, “Osama is more a symbol than a person. We have lived in collective fear for a long time. I hope we can start to feel safe again, that this death will be the symbolic death of our fear.”
I pray and hope so.
May we refrain from a lot of ill-timed celebration. Instead let’s breathe fresh spring air and befriend our Muslim neighbors.
Let’s talk, get to know and understand each other, pray together.
It’s all the same to Godde and Allah.
That is hardly the case in the Bin Laden death. I make no defense of terrorists or their tactics which seem to me to be insanely desperate, but ................ we are Goliath, for gods sake, not David!
I was disturbed to see front page photos of Americans waving flags and cheering about the death of Osama bin Laden, terrorism master mind.
The President spoke of justice. I understand the idea but for me it makes no sense in the face of so much tragedy.
People imagine this a happy ending?
I am a Christian;I do not cheer for anyone’s death. The Old Testament prophet Ezekiel tells us that God “desires the death of no one.”
As a Christian too I know that death is an opening to new life.
Osama has been a source of great fear in this country post- 9/11 but I feel cautious about too much hoopla of joy or relief. The apparent victory could encourage more resolve in terrorists, inflame their religious culture that honors martyrdom. The passion to serve God by being a martyr is not an impossible outcome of too much cheering too soon. Hardly a “happy ending.”
A Muslim woman, originally from Pakistan, Naila Baloch, spoke wisdom at our recent clergy conference. Naila is one of a group of Muslims who pray their Friday noonday prayers at the Episcopal cathedral in Boston.
She said, “Osama is more a symbol than a person. We have lived in collective fear for a long time. I hope we can start to feel safe again, that this death will be the symbolic death of our fear.”
I pray and hope so.
May we refrain from a lot of ill-timed celebration. Instead let’s breathe fresh spring air and befriend our Muslim neighbors.
Let’s talk, get to know and understand each other, pray together.
It’s all the same to Godde and Allah.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
2011.05. 04 Royal Happy Ending
It’s paradoxical that the governmental phenomenon we Americans overthrew for independence is now for many a glittery attraction provoking comments like “We don’t have anything like this in this country.”
I refer of course to our fascination with all things British, especially what is royal and especially what advertises hopes for happily ever after.
There’s nothing like a royal wedding to get our glands going. In the USA we celebrate celebrity divorces. Not as sexy.
People seem to be filled with exuberance, perhaps we long with all our hearts for happy endings.
Or perhaps the high spirit is wanting to make up for Princess Di’s tragic early death, the last princess? No wait!.....there is one more.
The Christian idea of resurrection identifies Godde as the provider of happy endingsm especially ones that are happily ever after.
I put my trust in that and also go gaga over the royal pomp, glamor, and promised bliss.
I refer of course to our fascination with all things British, especially what is royal and especially what advertises hopes for happily ever after.
There’s nothing like a royal wedding to get our glands going. In the USA we celebrate celebrity divorces. Not as sexy.
People seem to be filled with exuberance, perhaps we long with all our hearts for happy endings.
Or perhaps the high spirit is wanting to make up for Princess Di’s tragic early death, the last princess? No wait!.....there is one more.
The Christian idea of resurrection identifies Godde as the provider of happy endingsm especially ones that are happily ever after.
I put my trust in that and also go gaga over the royal pomp, glamor, and promised bliss.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
2011.04.27 Becoming Mercy
I don’t remember what I wanted to be when I grew up. It wasn’t a princess. Maybe a horsewoman.
Maybe I just wanted to be the apple of my dad’s eye or at least not so much the apple of my mother’s eye.
Maybe I just wanted to be left alone to create—mischief, dramas, daring games with creepy plots, even liturgies—anything my imagination could stretch to.
I imagined God at just three. I was the apple of God’s eye, but I didn’t get the implications till I actually did grow up and into a religious vocation.
One thing I’m sure I didn’t want to be when I grew up was a nun or a priest. Now I am both—sort of.
I was drawn to the richness of the Roman Catholic Mass but found its misogynous politics stifling. Anglocatholic Episcopalians had the liturgy and hopeful politics so I became an Episcopal priest.
To satisfy my earlier Catholic leanings I became an Associate of the Religious Sisters of Mercy (RSM,) a Catholic order. BUT associates, according to their guidelines, are “ordinarily” Roman Catholic—“ordinarily” is a permissive word.
To be an Associate one makes a commitment to live a mercy way of life. Be compassionate and just. Not hard really, but hard as hell some days. A liaison Sister with whom you covenant helps. You keep each other honest to mercy.
I was attracted to the Mercies because their foundress Catherine Macauley, up for canonization btw, had a simple vision to help the poor. "Poor" is not restricted by an economic definition.
The Mercy vision and mission is to work and pray for connection: of the poor with resources, the ignorant with education/knowledge, and the sick with healing. The Holy Spirit Herself is the Great Connector and helps the process along.
This fit with my early Catholic leanings and it fits with my own ministry as priest, counselor, author and spiritual director.
Mercy satisfies my three guiding Muses: Spirituality, Religion and Feminism.
FEMINISM is happy because most of the “poor” are women. RELIGION is happy because many people are ignorant of the graces of sane and good religions and need good prayer guidance and teaching. SPIRITUALITY is happy because every soul is wounded to varying degrees of severity, and we all need healing.
To find out more about becoming an Associate of Mercy go to their website. Mercy Associates are “ordinarily” women.
Pray then click. www.sistersofmercy.org
Maybe I just wanted to be the apple of my dad’s eye or at least not so much the apple of my mother’s eye.
Maybe I just wanted to be left alone to create—mischief, dramas, daring games with creepy plots, even liturgies—anything my imagination could stretch to.
I imagined God at just three. I was the apple of God’s eye, but I didn’t get the implications till I actually did grow up and into a religious vocation.
One thing I’m sure I didn’t want to be when I grew up was a nun or a priest. Now I am both—sort of.
I was drawn to the richness of the Roman Catholic Mass but found its misogynous politics stifling. Anglocatholic Episcopalians had the liturgy and hopeful politics so I became an Episcopal priest.
To satisfy my earlier Catholic leanings I became an Associate of the Religious Sisters of Mercy (RSM,) a Catholic order. BUT associates, according to their guidelines, are “ordinarily” Roman Catholic—“ordinarily” is a permissive word.
To be an Associate one makes a commitment to live a mercy way of life. Be compassionate and just. Not hard really, but hard as hell some days. A liaison Sister with whom you covenant helps. You keep each other honest to mercy.
I was attracted to the Mercies because their foundress Catherine Macauley, up for canonization btw, had a simple vision to help the poor. "Poor" is not restricted by an economic definition.
The Mercy vision and mission is to work and pray for connection: of the poor with resources, the ignorant with education/knowledge, and the sick with healing. The Holy Spirit Herself is the Great Connector and helps the process along.
This fit with my early Catholic leanings and it fits with my own ministry as priest, counselor, author and spiritual director.
Mercy satisfies my three guiding Muses: Spirituality, Religion and Feminism.
FEMINISM is happy because most of the “poor” are women. RELIGION is happy because many people are ignorant of the graces of sane and good religions and need good prayer guidance and teaching. SPIRITUALITY is happy because every soul is wounded to varying degrees of severity, and we all need healing.
To find out more about becoming an Associate of Mercy go to their website. Mercy Associates are “ordinarily” women.
Pray then click. www.sistersofmercy.org
Saturday, April 23, 2011
2011.04.24 Easter Blessing from Unexpected Place
Conventional spiritual wisdom insists that good news about Divinity’s word and action comes from the margins of society and religion. Here is something from the center.
This may top the classic “Dear Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...” response to a child’s query, full of faith and hope, salted with a healthy dose of wariness, too.
An eastering word for an age of agnostic craving.
A six-year-old girl writes a letter to God. And the Archbishop of Canterbury, the only one of a variety of “heads of theology” of various religious traditions in the UK responded. The girl's question: “To God, how did you get invented?”
Dear Lulu,
Your dad has sent on your letter and asked if I have any answers. It’s a
difficult one! But I think God might reply a bit like this –
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were
quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and
thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it
came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own
and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them
not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in
the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.
But there was nothing and nobody around before me to invent me. Rather like
somebody who writes a story in a book, I started making up the story of the
world and eventually invented human beings like you who could ask me awkward
questions!’
And then he’d send you lots of love and sign off.
I know he doesn’t usually write letters, so I have to do the best I can on
his behalf. Lots of love from me too.
+Archbishop Rowan
(I credit the Rev. Eliza Kaeton for posting this lovely message from an article in The Church Times by Lulu’s father Damian Thompson, a non-believer, to the Episcopal House of Bishops and Deputies. Brava! )
This may top the classic “Dear Virginia, there is a Santa Claus...” response to a child’s query, full of faith and hope, salted with a healthy dose of wariness, too.
An eastering word for an age of agnostic craving.
A six-year-old girl writes a letter to God. And the Archbishop of Canterbury, the only one of a variety of “heads of theology” of various religious traditions in the UK responded. The girl's question: “To God, how did you get invented?”
Dear Lulu,
Your dad has sent on your letter and asked if I have any answers. It’s a
difficult one! But I think God might reply a bit like this –
‘Dear Lulu – Nobody invented me – but lots of people discovered me and were
quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and
thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it
came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own
and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me – some of them sensible and some of them
not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints – specially in
the life of Jesus – to help them get closer to what I’m really like.
But there was nothing and nobody around before me to invent me. Rather like
somebody who writes a story in a book, I started making up the story of the
world and eventually invented human beings like you who could ask me awkward
questions!’
And then he’d send you lots of love and sign off.
I know he doesn’t usually write letters, so I have to do the best I can on
his behalf. Lots of love from me too.
+Archbishop Rowan
(I credit the Rev. Eliza Kaeton for posting this lovely message from an article in The Church Times by Lulu’s father Damian Thompson, a non-believer, to the Episcopal House of Bishops and Deputies. Brava! )
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