2013.08.07 Birth Days

It’s our birthdayS—seriously. My beloved and I were born on the same day. I'm 75 and he’s 72, a mere child.  Imagine two Leos in one not very large townhouse, retired with no 9-5 place to get a little space!  There’s a whole lot of roaring going on.  Boom boom!

Rather than feel old I feel lucky that his brain is 3 years younger than mine. He can remember what I forget in an instant. It's a balance. I can often hear things more accutely than he can, such as the whirring of a mosquito in my ear at night which causes me to slap my ear so hard it hurts—while he sleeps on.  

It's good to be happy and quirky and full of gratitude.

Our day started with arising lazily to stretch into the sun and breath in cool clean unconditioned air—followed by discovering a small infestation of mosquitoes between the screen and the closed window in the bathroom. Thus began the challenge to eliminate or free the biting pests, the only one of Godde’s critters I allow myself to whap! —without guilt.  Releasing them didn’t work so............. RIP skeets.  

There followed the challenge of discovering how the skeets got in and patching the aging screens- culprits, several of which by now are more patch than original screen. Makes me think of our bodies and whether and what we may have to have replaced one day— knee,  hip, pray God not a face!?  How grateful we both are to have all our parts. 

We began our day with a task and some pride at the accomplishment of mosquito-proofing our bedroom. Then and only then did we embrace for birthday hugs and laughter and head downstairs to see that each of us had broken our rules and gotten the other cards. LOL cards.

After my walk and his massage we went to walk around Walden Pond. It is a delightful walk and the pond is quite large. Thoreau was no hermit but he did rough it for some time. He wanted to see what he could learn by confronting the bare un-manicured woodlands and all the creatures therein.

In his 1854 book Walden: Or, Life in the Woods  he wrote:  “I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”  (Assume he includes she!)

   Thoreau was a short and attractive but not husky man. He didn't look like this in the woods.

Walden is beautiful and now filled with people swimming and enjoying this natural resource for only$5 to park!  I learned that  there is no such thing as nature somehow separate from humanity, often assumed to be better. We are all one as Creator-God intended. 

Now we will indulge in a great dinner at a Boston restaurant and risk undoing the soothing effects of the massage and the healthy walk in an historic sight.  Fair balance, no?

It's odd to be 75. Somehow that seems like a really old number. Don't know why really.

I’ll go with Mark Twain's wisdom on this: Age is mind over matter. If you don’t mind it doesn’t matter.  I don’t mind.

2013.08.03 Writing Alumnae Blurb

What to do, besides tap delete, when your class secretary sends an email asking for Class News for the Smith College Alumnae Quarterly from the college you graduated from 55 years ago, and you’re happy but not a hot shot.

What do I remember about college?  Exams, papers, panic, bridge, good friends, overstudying and becoming a true nerd while dreaming of a weekend date or a weekend at the local bar playing “The Prince of Wales had no tails.....”—a beer game designed to get you loopy.  

I also remember falling in crush with the college chaplain, a handsome dreamy type who guided me to the Episcopal Church where I found my spiritual home and eventual vocation. And, swooning over a Spanish (my major) professor, a suave Iberian poet who helped me appreciate Spanish poets. My favorite  poet was Nicolas Guillén, a surrealist whose one line captivated me enough to remember it :Todo en el aire es pájaro. (Everything in the air is bird.) Not translatable, which was its attraction. I learned to swallow it whole.

We lived in houses not dorms. I remember our housemother Mrs. Breakey. She presented a stern front and when she walked her ample thighs rubbed together making a swish-swish sound.  I grew to like her.

Most seriously, at Smith I re-learned what I’d learned in my all-girls NYC school, Nightingale Bamford, where I went from from grades 1-6: that girls could think, learn, and have strong voices intellectually and aesthetically. 

But the class secretary wanted to know our thoughts about The Seventies.  How do you blurb a decade, especially one that for me felt completely out of control?

So I wrote:

The 70s was a time when everything seemed to happen at once—all the good, bad and beautiful. It was the decade when, awakened by the furor of the 60s Civil Rights and the feminist movements, I broke out of rule and role in some mighty sloppy ways. Words of Smithies, Gloria Steinem, "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle" and Betty Friedan "the problem that has no name"(that is, women discontent even though they’d followed their generational prescriptions for happily ever after) rang in my ears. They drove me on, along with my religious faith.  In time I became an Episcopal priest, a kind of brass ring I'd always wanted but never dared grab for.

I would not have had the chutzpah to do all this if it weren't for the 70s and for Smith where I learned to think, ask questions, and dare.

2013.07.31 Call To Disobey—Another Reformation?

There is a great rummage sale going on in the Roman Catholic Church in Austria–and it’s spreading like an inchoate brushfire—not wild but steady.

Because all things are interconnected this affects all Christianity at the very least.

According to many observers of developments in Western Christianity, every 500 years there occurs an enormous transformative change, something like a grand rummage sale in which everything is emptied out of the attic and basement. Some treasures are tossed, some refurbished and renewed, and the rest—rummage.

The name for this “rummage sale” so far is The Great Emergence; the name of the last “rummage sale” was The Reformation, tellingly also cradled in Germany.

EVERY GREAT RELIGIOUS MOVEMENT MATTERS TO/AFFECTS ALL RELIGIONS.

Helmut Schüller, a parish priest who represents the Austrian Priests’ Initiative, Call To Disobedience, founded in 2006, spoke recently in Dedham, MA. I went to hear him chiefly because I am supportive of the ordination of women in the RC Church and I remember the pain of being found unfit in one's Church, by virtue of gender—also I love the idea of being called to disobey Church doctrine and practice for the sake of justice and the inclusivity Jesus practiced and preached.

The Austrian priests involved number 430, which is 15% of all priests in Austria; 70-80% of other priests agree but are afraid to join on. No sanctions against the movement have been levied. Schüller said that it is crucial that the clergy become involved to add official impact to the call for reforms. He added that the Eucharist should never be used as a political sanction.

Women in the Episcopal Church would not have been ordained back in the 70s without the support of some male bishops. The most effective reformations work because of collaboration, and in the Church the best collaboration happens in communities of prayer, word and sacrament. Isolated actions are too easily ignored.

Schüller’s group strongly advocates for a new image of the priest, rather than consolidating and closing parishes as a way to deal with the shortage of male priests.  He noted that the present hierarchy of authority is: 1) God 2) conscience 3) external authorities. (Now there’s an attic treasure to keep.)

The Austrian group is fueled not just by discontent about abuses of power or a shortage of priests but by a re-discovery of Vatican II documents in which most of the changes were already proposed. Schüller said that the whole system of Church structure must change—and that women must be brought into the center of ministry.

He spoke to a gathering of about 600 people, gathered in a non air-conditioned UU Meeting House in sweltering July heat. An RC deacon from the sponsoring church, St. Susannas’s, introduced Schüller and quipped that we owed a debt of gratitude to Boston’s Cardinal O’Malley for the fabulous publicity he’d spawned by notifying St. Susanna’s that the event could not take place in their parish church.

Reforms called for include:
    -Open the office of priesthood 
    -Advocate an end to the narrow exclusivity of the celibacy requirement
    -Open communion
    -Restore the dignity of the baptized; allow competent trained laity to preach
    -Recognize all Christians as CITIZENS of the Church, not just sheep. I say: baaa-yes to that!
    -Create a healthy system in which congruent behavior is the norm for clergy
    -Allow “Priestless Eucharistic Celebrations” for a Liturgy of the Word with distribution of Communion when priests are in short supply, to fulfill the Sunday Mass obligation.
    -Revise and rework the language of prayer and faith. The newly imposed Roman Missile represents a step backwards. The German version is in preparation.  Give the people and their priests a say workig together to write liturgies.
   
Schüller observed that modern society had made advances and the Church should exercise the same moral authority. Example: UN declaration that every human being should have a full chance to develop her/his own life.

There was much more but these are the basics. I was impressed with Schüller’s charm, wit and passion in the presence of great hungry crowds and stultifying heat. Many of the usual questions were asked and he fielded all questions with skill and humor. My favorite: If the Church did everything exactly the way Jesus did it, we’d all be fishermen! (This in answer to the rigid literalist official stance that Jesus picked male disciples, therefore.........)

The Austrian Priests will meet in October with priests from other nations including the US to plan to further the Initiative. I wonder if a busload of nuns will arrive!? :0) 
   
“Disobedience is irritating and provocative and we’ll keep it up,” Schüller concluded to a roar of applause.  

So what does this matter to me, all Christians, and people of other faiths???  Well................

Roman Catholicism is the largest  religion in the world (1.2 billion members.)
Transformation there will affect ongoing and needed transformation and revitalization in all religions and in Christianity in particular—and perhaps in secular societies as well

This movement could open the way to fruitful interfaith and ecumenical dialogue, much needed for the healing of religion for the sake of spirituality.

The question that faces Western Christianity in this era is: Where will religious authority reside for this next period of time before the next rummage sale?

My vote goes to Christ Sophia, the world-traveling, ambassador of goodness and divine grace, the Great Connector. 

She’s removing the toxins from the institutional “Kool-Aid.”

2013.07.28 The Lord's Prayer, Sort Of

When I was in third grade I decided that for my art project I would create an illustrated version of the Lord’s Prayer.  As a young child I was quite fascinated, enamored really, with God for many reasons, not the least of which was that God listened to all my chatter—laments and exaggerations and triumphs alike—when my parents, preoccupied with their Cocktail Hour, did not.  So I suppose my project was a prayer of sorts, or at least a psalm to the God of my heart.

The Lord’s Prayer was the only official prayer I knew at the time and I also remembered that Jesus told his disciples to pray this way when they asked him how to pray (such a dumb question!)  I considered this prayer a big deal and thought Jesus must have written it himself.

The art teacher, Mrs. Schultz, was enthusiastic. She helped me draw God’s sandals, hanging out over a cloud. I used lots of glitter and gold paint for things like GOD, a hallowed name, so unique no one is named God, and AMEN for the end.

Kingdoms were always castles in clouds. Bread was Wonder Bread of course, a whole loaf.

Thy will be done was a puzzle, because God hadn’t exactly told me what to do. Thinking of Jesus with the children in the church window, I settled on a bunch of stick figure children all with bright halos over their heads. At least half the children were girls with triangle skirts.

Trespasses were easy, a sign on a lawn saying NO TRESPASSING. Forgiveness was hard to draw so I just tucked it in— I'm sorry— under the lawn sign and put a little footprint on the lawn.  

I’d once stolen a five-cent pack of gum from a store and later snuck back into the store to put it back. I drew a pack of gum and wrote Wrigley’s on it, which covered temptation and evil.

For power I traced a he-man ad for muscle-building, because a horse was too hard to draw. GLORY had its own page. There was no Jesus in this prayer, even though Christians called it Jesus’ prayer and he taught it.

This is a prayer about God and all the good things God can do.

Mrs. Schultz was very pleased with my work, and my mother’ praise was lavish. Daddy loved it too. 

I knew I wasn’t a very good artist, but it didn’t seem to matter much.  

2013.07.24 Prepping for the Annual Physical

As the time of my annual physical check up approached I began my usual obsessing about whether I should go on a quick fasting diet to fool the scales.

Then another thought came to mind:I’ve had age-normal falls which landed me with a couple of black eyes and most recently black and blue legs. My doctor has all this data and had examined me accordingly. She never asked if someone was beating me up. Like maybe I never fell. I’d said I never tripped. She even ordered brain tests to make sure there was no evidence of stroke or seizure activity.

My doctor knows me and trusts me, and I her. She knows my husband too and trusts him. But I know my doctor is supposed to ask anyway.

Choking with laughter at this realization, I ran to tell my husband who said with a grim grin, “I’m toast.” And we laughed some more.

This is not to make fun of the terrible crime of domestic abuse. Nor to discount all the effective awareness work I and others have done over the years about this serious often hidden issue. 

Humor aside, my experience made me realize how easy it is to hide and disguise truth, especially if you feel threatened or without resources. I also wondered about trust.  How and why do you trust someone?  Believe them at their word?  I have no idea. I just happen to think it’s the best policy. And the second best policy is to ask questions.

I also know how hard it is for professionals, myself included, to ask someone, usually a woman, is she is a  victim, “feels safe at home.” It humiliates. I don’t want to add more hurt, more bruise. So I’m glad for regulations that require me to ask hard questions. I can blame the law.

Guess I’ll just go on a quick diet and thank Godde for the graces in my life.  

When I went to my physical I asked my doctor why she never asked. After she gave me some information about domestic violence regulations, which I knew. She told me about the location of most d.v. wounds, except for teeth. She told me she had directly asked a friend, “Who did this to you?” The woman wasn't a patient. Sadly, there was nothing more to do except advise about resources.   

There was more to our conversation than I can write. This doctor is thoroughly informed, aware about the law and about domestic violence dynamics and not hesitant to probe. I have complete confidence in this doctor, both medically and as a woman of integrity and justice.

After our serious conversation ended, she got a twinkle in her eye and said, “He’s such a charming guy, that husband of yours.  

Indeed he is.

2013.07.22 Lead On,Mary Magdalene—We're Following.

I write this to honor St.Mary Magdalene, a woman close enough to Jesus and his ways to be entrusted, as the gospel story goes, with being the first witness to resurrection—the apostle to the apostles many call her. That’s big!  Magdalene held the young church together with her teaching and preaching in the East and wrote her own gospel (see the work of Karen King)....... in which she argues with Peter about Jesus’ ideas on spirituality and immanence as the power source for good works.

YET....... she became known as a prostitute. There is NO scriptural reference and no historical substantiation whatsoever for such a tarring. I call this patriarchal terrorism. Mary Magdalene, neverthe-friggin-less,  is a saint of the Church. Her day is July 22 and her spirit still haunts Church and culture, calling for justice and equity for women—and all citizens of Godde’s kingdom.  

Gloria Steinem, feminist activist, author, and founder of Ms Magazine,  now 78 years old, spoke at Simmons College 2013 commencement on the topic of feminism today. 

She acknowledged progress but contended that many of the same issues that spurred the women’s rights movement in the 1970s are still present in the context of ongoing patriarchal values and domination politics.

“Here’s a skeletal key to what has to change,” she said in a phone interview, “Women still require an adjective and males don’t.  There is a ‘novelist’ and a ‘woman novelist,’ [as there is] a doctor and a ‘black doctor.’”  I agree with this nut-shell evaluation, yet also remember that we still say ‘nurse’ and ‘male’ nurse. 

In the Church we do still hear talk of a priest and a ‘woman’ priest, and the Episcopal Church still “studies” women.  We’re an “issue”. Women in Church and society are still not equal and, in some cases, not equivalent to men. Think violence. Think equal pay. Think sexist language. Think fear.

I just read the obituary of, yes it’s true, the first woman matador in the US, Patricia McCormick.  Doesn’t sound Hispanic does it? But McCormick had a gift and a calling, which she pursued faithfully in Texas and Mexico.

In 1963, one of Mexico’s elite matadors said: “Had she not been  born a woman she might have been better than any of us.”  I assume he meant to say that she might have been able to progress in the ranks of her vocation, but............   Because in fact she WAS better than many of the male matadors. His statement reflected the ingrained and irrational effects of lingering patriarchal assumptions.

McCormick, whose last bullfight was in 1962, was finally honored in 2007 with an exhibit in the Heritage Museum of Big Spring, TX and a video demonstration of her cape work.  I’m not sure about the brutality of the sport itself but I do recognize a gift and a movement art when I see it. 

I confess that when I went to a bullfight in Spain back in 1960 I was mesmerized by the rhythm of the dance and the grace of both man and beast.  After all, is it any more brutal than football, which, in my opinion, doesn’t seem to have any grace to it?  Boxing at least does.

The issue of genderized professions and roles is still with us. But women break through when they have a calling and a gift.

Genderized Divinity, exclusively male, is also still with us, but I believe Sophia Wisdom is working to change this constrictive habit.

I wonder if genderization is a result of natural proclivities, or is it a social construct culturally conditioned by patriarchy? ARE there differences? Of course.  But are these human differences not gendered ones?  Should gender differences be stereotyped as they are, thus restricting both men and women? Nowadays, in some rare cases, anatomy is up for grabs, but so far men do not bear children unless they are male sea horses. 

Some 30 years ago Steinem famously coined the slogan: “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle.”  Then some women got all fussed when in time she got married! 

Today I would say that a woman without a man, or a good companion, is—lonely.   So, quite likely, is a man.

Love respects gender, yet love also precedes and supercedes gender—thank Godde. 

2013.07.17 Free Prisoners

A wise friend commented on my post (7/14/13) about the theology of evolutionary Continuous Creation: “It also calls for an evolving theology that encompasses all humanity regardless of race religion, sexual orientation, occupation, gender and sees all as wonderfully created and held in Godde's hand.”  Hail the prophetic call for human justice as profound as  earth justice!

Saving Earth means loving all living things that God loves in the way that Godde loves them:  EQUALLY.


In 1986 poet Etheridge Knight (1931-1991) wrote this poem entitled: "Rehabilitation and Treatment in the Prisons of America."  Published by Yale Divinity School, Reflections, Fall 2013)

The Convict strolled into the prison administration building to
get assistance and counseling for his personal problems. Inside the
main door were several other doors proclaiming: Doctor, Lawyer,
Teacher, Counselor, Therapist, etc. He chose the proper door, and
was confronted by two more doors: Custody and Treatment. He
chose Treatment, went in, and was confronted with two more
doors: First Offender and Previous Offender. Again he chose the
proper door and was confronted with two more doors: Adult and
Juvenile. He was an adult, so he walked through that door and
ran smack into two more doors: Democrat and Republican. He
was democrat, so he rushed through that door and ran smack into
two more doors: Black and White. He was Black, so he rushed—
ran— through that door—and fell nine stories to the street.

Then I came along behind. I was White so I rushed through that door
and ran smack into two more doors: Male and Female. I was a woman,
so I raced through the right door—and flew out into the open air. Before 
I looked down at the streets below I stuck out my chest and yanked the
rip cord hidden in my uplift bra. Like an umbrella my chute spread over
me.      I looked up and saw no doors.

                        (addition mine)