Collective Nouns

Swarming Locusts

I believe I saw the question raised of late (probably at OCICBW): what collective noun ought one to use of bishops? Some alliterative suggestions were made.

I thought about it while driving to work the other day and felt it might be nice to work through some of the subsets of Christians. Here is what I came up with:

An assembly of the faithful

A task force of deacons

An infestation of priests

A plague of bishops

A pestilence of primates

As a member of the first and third categories I feel qualified to be skeptical about presbyters. I must also confess that I know a number of bishops whom I greatly admire and respect (and in some cases even trust). There are godly individuals throughout the church, even in holy orders! I consider some primates to be, or have been, saints. ++Desmond and his newly-retired successor ++Njongonkulu come to mind, the late ++Khotso of Central Africa, and ++Michael (Ramsey) Cantuar. These days, however, I am inclined to stick with “pestilence.” They seem to descend like locusts and destroy everything in sight, then fly off again. Awful. Deplorable. Someone should be deploring this behavior. Heck, I hereby deplore it.

My admonition: Gather to tell stories and share bread and wine and practice loving each other. Beyond that, stay in your own diocese and mind your own bloody flock.

Growing up among evangelicals (and a fair number of outright fundamentalists in the most narrow and traditional sense of that term), I heard plenty of denunciations of sin. At some point I realized that we all know we’re broken, imperfect, and often quite willful. Nobody needs to tell us we’re sinners, for the most part. And it’s not good news. The good news is that God loves us and that forgiveness is possible, and grace is real, and that death can lead to new life.

Those who go about denouncing sinners are not proclaiming Gospel.

Mind you, I do believe in judgment and I do believe that there is a reason prophets delivered judgment and salvation oracles together. I don’t believe we get from A to B without transformation. This is why I believe so strongly in the work of the Holy Spirit. Having said that, however, I still maintain that if you stop at the judgment you have not yet proclaimed Gospel. The world needs hope, not harangues; people who model transformation, not scolds. Yes, I am talking to you, ++Peter Abuja.

My first theological and spiritual reformation on a personal level took place when I realized that all my life I had heard that Jesus saves us from sin, death, and hell, but that I was not hearing what he was saving us FOR. “Heaven” and “eternal life” are code words, not answers to that question. This is what moved me from my Protestant roots to more Catholic and Orthodox understandings of the mystery of what we are about and what God is up to in dealing with us. Sanctification and glorification became more meaningful. Marcus Borg’s discussions of a transformative journey in relationship with God gave words to what I was thinking about in my last years of college and through seminary and into grad school.

Hope and healing are needed. Yes, challenge too! But not scolding. It shames, it creates resentment, it does everything contrary to enabling us to love ourselves and one another. It is the devil’s work, the task of accusing, and it leads to slander. The primates who are so busy denouncing LGBT folk have, I must say it, no idea what they are talking about. They may know all manner of scripture but they don’t have a monopoly on that. (I was a Baptist, c’mon, get real. You think I don’t know all the passages you love to invoke? I majored in Biblical theology because I loved it, not because I had to.) But they don’t know gay folk. As friend Richard points out, when we have “virtual” enemies we don’t have to engage them or get to know them and we can demonize them from a safe distance. They have openly said they are not interested in a “listening process.” They have concluded a priori that they have nothing to learn from us. They are wrong.

And I would be wrong if I thought I had nothing to learn from them. But what I want to hear is not their conceptions of biblical righteousness. I want to hear their personal stories. I want to understand what life is like in their part of the world. What are their challenges, their blessings, their concerns, their fears, their hopes? What did Good News sound like and feel like when they heard it? What threats do they experience daily? What unique gifts do they bring to the feast? I don’t need them to theologize for me, but I need their witness. We all need each other’s witness. But we don’t need each other’s judgments. That is reserved for the One who made us, redeemed us, loves us, is at work in us, and is the sole assurance of our destiny.

Everyone is happy when the locusts are gone. But there is still the devastation of their visit. I shall be glad when the current unpleasantness is a memory. But it is going to be very messy and painful in the meantime.

Whether the Anglican Communion survives in any form whatsoever is God’s concern, not mine. The communion that seeks to save its life will lose it; the communion that loses its life for Christ’s sake will find it. Just saying. I believe the People of God will continue. I believe the Gospel will still be proclaimed. I believe local communities will worship and serve.

The Anglican Communion has been a great gift to the world and has been a gracious home for me. I like it here. I will continue to pursue what I understand to be an Anglican way of being Christian whether the Communion abides, mutates, or vanishes. Since I am enough of a Buddhist to believe all things are transient and enough of a Christian to believe that God and God’s love are exceptions to that, I can only assume that the Communion will mutate. To cease changing is to die.

I see flourishing congregations and people awakening to new life, so I do not despair. I am concerned about pestilent influences, however.

Anyone have some pestilence repellant handy?

--the BB

My Little Prairie Flower online

Texas Bluebonnet via Kim's Place
The photographer writes:

"This is part of a picture I entered
in Big Kev's 2003 Texas Bluebonnet Challenge. "

Well, the Gratuitous Bluebonnet Blogging is because my friend and colleague, Amber Sturgess, whom I call "my little bluebonnet" because she's from Texas, had an article on Bede Griffiths and prayer published at The Bede Griffith's Trust website.

The article is titled "All are Called to Contemplative Prayer." Click on "article" above to read it all.

A most practical paragraph within the article:

Bede’s method of contemplative prayer draws from the Benedictine and Yogic traditions and consists of a relaxing comfortable posture, the silent repetition of a sacred mantra, a reliance on the grace of God, and the support of a spiritual guide or community. He emphasized the necessity of using a sacred mantra, like the name “Jesus” or “God,” because when we meditate we enter into the unconscious part of ourselves where we encounter our shadow, the repressed emotions and desires, and the collective unconscious, the sufferings and joys of all humanity. The sacred mantra acts as a life line to the risen Christ, the one who has already descended into the depths of the unconscious and has overcome these forces of darkness. When we meditate all of our wounds are opened up and exposed to the grace of God for healing which is why Fr. Bede cautioned against practicing meditation alone without the greater support of more experienced practitioners.

Amber is one of those folks with the gift of transcending boundaries while simultaneously knowing her roots. I am very grateful for sharing journeys with her, including her journey into priesthood.. (In spite of the anti-clericalism in the post that is going to follow, I really do cherish most of my colleagues.) She is currently the long-term interim vicar at St George's, Antioch, California. With her in California and me in New Mexico, I just miss the hell out of her. She is one of three people with whom I do not censor myself, and if I say more it will go to her head.

Keep your feet on the ground, girlfriend, you know how I feel about clergy who get puffed up and proud!

Mother Amber at St Cuthbert's, Oakland

[The preceding is a big old public cyberhug.]
--the BB

LET IN THE LIGHT!

Solar Flares

Yesterday I had the sad task of officiating at the memorial service for a fifteen-year-old boy who died by accident. The offsetting grace of such a tragedy was the outpouring of love that occurred amid the devastating loss.

It is difficult to offer solace without resorting to platitudes. And. I. Hate. Platitudes. They ring so false and only make things worse.

I was incredibly proud of the teenage boys who got up in front of a multitude and spoke. They were nervous, uncomfortable, fidgety, and very brave. They gave voice to their sorrow and to their friendship. They were a living testimonial to love--deep caring, deep loss--altogether not what they usually think about or talk about, not what one usually hears from lads their age. They were warriors and they were shattered children all at once. I am so glad they spoke because the rest of us needed to hear the truth of who he was for his friends.

All the stories were moving.

I was startled to find myself carried back to when I was seventeen. One of my classmates, a really nice guy, took his own life. Suddenly he was not in the desk in front of me. He did not show up and then we heard about the gun and the note. None of us knew why. In later life I have my guesses but his death remains a mystery, and with an ending like that his life remains a great mystery as well. None of us knew how to make it better--too young to know yet that we couldn't. But we thronged to his service because we had to do something to say we cared.

The kids yesterday were far closer to Frogger than I was to Frank. But I found myself choked up for both of them and for all youths whose lives are cut off, so soon, too soon. So I spoke of the truth I know, broken human hearts.

I urged those present not to rush to close over the cracks in their broken hearts. It is our defensive tendency to wish to be invulnerable but we aren't and we can't be. We try to ward off the hurt and prevent the pain. Hearts that are walled off, however, are cut off from community. It is precisely through the cracks that light, and life, and love can flow into and out of our hearts. The raw spots are where we can be real, can feel, can know the truth.

Well, I wasn't nearly that eloquent because I was speaking impromptu. It comes out more polished a day later at a keyboard. I just wanted those who were hurting to know that it was all right to hurt, to feel, and be vulnerable. I wanted the youths especially not to try to build up defensive walls. The world will lead them down that deadly path soon enough.

As for the Anglican Communion and my beloved Episcopal Church, that's pretty shattered at the moment too. I wish we could let our brokenness be a means for God's light, and life, and love to pour into us and through us and out of us. I do trust the Holy Spirit. And, in the long run, I trust the People of God. Clergy, especially bishops, and even more so primates--not so much. You might think funny collars just suddenly make us all stupid and headstrong. But, as Baptism is indissoluble, we clergy are still part of the People of God. So I will trust that God's purposes will be realized even through our brokenness. After all, that is how God has always operated and I don't think the Holy One is about to change methodologies all of a sudden.

Yes, we're cracked. Broken vessels. Cracked pots, indeed. May the Uncreated Light flow among our cracks with all manner of healing grace.

And to Frank and Frogger I say, may you and all souls rest in peace and rise with Christ in glory.
--the BB

Holy River Rhone, say it ain't so!

We all know these quizzes are silly. And fun. So we still take them.

Padre Mickey led me astray. OK, I led my own silly self astray but his silly blog (which I adore) was the occasion of sin.

You Are Chardonnay

Fresh, spirited, and classic - you have many facets to your personality. You can be sweet and light. Or deep and complex. You have a little bit of something to offer everyone... no wonder you're so popular. Approachable and never smug, you are easy to get to know (and love!). Deep down you are: Dependable and modest Your partying style: Understated and polite Your company is enjoyed best with: Cold or wild meat

What Kind of Wine Are You?

Let me set the record straight. I am a red wine guy. I love Rhône reds. Given the old "red or white?" option I choose red about 97% of the time. Doesn't matter what I'm eating.

This doesn't mean I don't enjoy whites paired with good food. (And if you're eating bad food, might as well drink plonk, non?). But I'll opt for red. (Similarly, I will drink any diet cola, but will opt for Diet Pepsi--there's a free plug for something the stock price of which I singlehandedly support.)

Right now I am sipping a lovely Rosenblum 2005 Appelation Series North Coast Zinfandel, generously sent to me by my friend Steve Seagren, Jr. Rosenblum does wonderful things with California grapes and they make oodles of Zins, most of them identified by specific vineyard. Slurpalicious! (Another plug!) They are based in Alameda, California, and I have enjoyed visiting the winery and their incredible tasting parties.

So, how the hell did I wind up called a fracking Chardonnay? Sigh. I try so hard not to be white, Swedish genes notwithstanding. [I grant you, the blather about the Chardonnay personality does have some applicability. I think. But we are not the best judges of ourselves.]

I say, drink whatever you like. To life! To health! To the company of loving and interesting people!
--the BB

Virtual versus incarnational

My colleague Richard observes at Caught by the Light that:

A lot going on in the Anglican Communion these days is in someone's head or ephemeral bits and bytes set to disappear when a plug is pulled. Too much, I'd say. And it's not always rooted in what's real, what's incarnational.

The other attractive thing about a virtual reality is that we can walk away at any time with impunity. It's safe for us.
…
And as we all know in the blogosphere, I can always write or say things in a virtual church that I couldn't say or write if I were facing a real human being, a breathing person made in the Image of God, with nothing between us but air and the charity not to throw punches, metaphorical or otherwise.
…
The problem is that while our detractors keep us virtual, they remain virtual to us as well. Someone(s) at some point, on one side or the other, will have to break this pattern, before Christ can fully reconcile the real, incarnational, fleshy, crucified and risen center of our fragile and fractious Communion.

By all means, read it all.
I responded:

Richard,
You are not only old-fashioned where it counts, you have also confirmed suspicions that you are truly Anglican in that you have emphasized once again the Incarnation and its implications for lives lived in the flesh and in history.
Your point about keeping those with whom we disagree “virtual” is spot on. It is so much easier to disagree with someone we don't know face to face, to analyze their reported word and alleged deed seeking fault, to denounce their sins and errors, to vilify and demonize. At a distance our shared humanity is easier to deny, though it remains bedrock reality no matter how we ignore it.

The issue of incarnational versus virtual is considered from a different perspective in this excellent comment by Mercy Amba Oduyoye (that I have lifted wholesale from Jane R.):

[T]he Church cannot describe itself as holy and mean that it is separate from the world and the world's agenda. Stating doctrines inside the church will not liberate unless the Church gets out into the streets, heals the sick and confronts the unjust. The Church is in the world that God loved, and has to work for the well-being of the world. Seeing that God's presence cannot be limited to organized Christianity, the Church does well to see where God is at work and to promote those salvific acts.

--the BB

Blog surfing

Doug and Eric and their children
Photo from SFGate back when gay marriage was briefly legal in San Francisco

Brother Tobias Haller has been offering substantive, thought-provoking articles on the mystery of human sexuality and the purposes and benefits of marriage. I commend them to you.

Where the Division Lies
Pro-Creation
True Union (1)

Radical topic-shift alert!

Jane alerts me, via the NASA kiddies’ calendar, to the equinox occurring this morning, not yesterday as I supposed. (I know it’s not on my father’s birthday as a previous post implies; I only take his birthday as a signal that autumn is just about to arrive.) For the technically inclined, Wikipedia has a table. The magic moment in sidereal relationships occurred as I was sleeping and we are now officially in the fall season. Blessed autumn to y’all. Susan Russell shares a wish along these lines complete with pumpkin patch.

Beware topic whiplash!

Susan Russell credits Paul Woodrum with an informative timeline on the faith once received. Excerpts:

1st Century:
Certainly Gentiles have a place in the church as do all the baptized. The debate is currently about the appropriate limits of pastoral care and the place Gentiles may hold in the offices of the church. The question is how far the traditional theology of the church lets us move in that direction.
…
12th Century:
Certainly Anglo-Saxon people have a place in the church as do all the baptized. The debate is currently about the appropriate limits of pastoral care and the place Anglo-Saxon people may hold in the offices of the church. The question is how far Norman church tradition lets us move in that direction.
…
Yesterday:
Certainly gay and lesbian people have a place in the church as do all the baptized. The debate is currently about the appropriate limits of pastoral care and the place gay and lesbian people may hold in the offices of the church. The question is how far the traditional theology of the church lets us move in that direction. (The Most Reverend and Right Honorable Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, 21 September AD 2007, New Orleans, LA, USA)

Susan concludes the sad litany with a prayer for the Church.

Gratuitous Rostral Column

Rostral Column on the Strelka
St Petersburg, Russia, 2004
(c) 2007 PES

Just because

Heather knocks my socks off again

How blessed we are to have Heather over at Holy Vignettes (and thanks MadPriest for pointing me to her).

She just wrote a moving and quite profound piece on fraction. A sample:

The good years aren't the years without losses; they are the years in which we make room for life.

Merits the detour, as the Michelin guides used to say. (Do they still say that?)
--the BB

Inappropriate Content

There must be a time lag if I can call the resident of the White House a shithead and still be called PG-13. Bush, on the other hand, should be rated X for all the violence and degradation he has unleashed on the world. Just saying.

Oh, in case there is any confusion, I offer the Dhammapada as encouragement for us all, including myself. I certainly don't live up to it or to the injunctions of Jesus.

This might be a reasonable time to reprise an old poem.

The Pleasing Boy

The pleasing boy
who played by the rules
earned the smug toleration
of the unimaginative—
not affection, respect, or love
(perhaps a quiet admiration
for his ability
to tolerate crap)

It’s not enough,
he concluded tardily,
and decided to take his soul back,
to color outside the lines
and follow his imagination,
to take risks and live
with the consequent failures
as well as exhilarating successes,
to let fly the snarky comment
and show disapproval
as well as bestow
the wonted compliments

He’s gone back to dancing
in streets and hallways,
singing out loud,
drawing on sidewalks with chalk,
naming bullshit,
laughing too loudly,
playing with children and elders—
and even the occasional midlifer
who has begun to wake up
and wants to play too



17 October 2003

Update: the PG is for 2 occurrences of crap and 1 of queer. Interesting. And very queer.

--the BB

Unequal justice is no justice

It is time the prosecutor started connecting the damn dots. If he cannot see that the entire series of events in Jena, Louisiana, between white and black youths are interrelated then he must be deaf and blind.

I have heard no one say the black youths are innocent and should be held unaccountable but I do hear a cry from the earth itself that consistent standards be applied. White youths in incidents of violence seem to get slaps on the wrist and misdemeanor charges; black youths are charged with felonies. Why?

The use of nooses on a tree cannot be described as "funnin'." One cannot say skin color is not a major operant factor.

When will "the recent unpleasantness" become the distant unpleasantness?

I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slaughtered for the word of God and for the testimony they had given; 10they cried out with a loud voice, ‘Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the earth?’ (Revelation 6:9b-10)

Autumnal equinox, Matthew, Paul Victor

Tomorrow is the feast of St Matthew the Apostle and Evangelist. I shall leave elaboration on that to my betters. The Church Calendar is like a great pegboard of the year on which I can hang many things. Sometimes a saint's feast helps me remember someone's birthday, sometimes it is the other way around.

Matthew came first in history, though second in my mind.

Incipit to St Matthew's Gospel
folio 29r of the Book of Kells

First, for me, was the fact that my father was born on 21 September 1908. Were he still alive he would be turning 99 tomorrow.

The BB and his dad (some years ago)
[Yes, my hair was not always thin and gray
and I was, once upon a time, somewhat slender.]

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DAD!

This also means it must be autumn. I confess, this photo was taken later in the year some years ago. But it is beginning to feel autumnal. The air conditioning is not kicking in every other minute (and I set it at 80, well above my personal melting point). Today clouds came in, the temperature lowered, and we had quite a cloudburst as I was leaving work. The freeway was not moving much so I thought a wide surface road would be nice. Ha! So I drove for miles along a minor river. Drove? Paddled? Hard to distinguish.

I look forward to cooler days. And turning leaves. For now the ash trees near work are still quite green, a lovely rich, dark green.

We thank you, heavenly Father, for the witness of your apostle and evangelist Matthew to the Gospel of your Son our Savior; and we pray that, after his example, we may with ready wills and hearts obey the calling of our Lord to follow him; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

--the BB

Who should be ashamed? Not MoveOn!

Why don't we hear more people who will stand up and speak the truth to that little shithead in the Oval Office?

Keith Olbermann delivers once again. Thank God for him!


Online Videos by Veoh.com

An excerpt:

Terrorizing your own people in hopes of getting them to vote for your own party has never brought as much as a public comment from you?

The Republican Hamstringing of Captain Max Cleeland and lying about Lieutenant John Kerry met with your approval?

But a shot at General Petraeus — about whom you conveniently ignore it is you who reduced him from four-star hero to a political hack — that merits this pissy juvenile blast at the Democrats on national television?

Your hypocrisy is so vast, sir, that if we could somehow use it to fill the ranks in Iraq you could realize your dream — and keep us fighting there until the year 3000.

The line between the military and the civilian government is not to be crossed.

Full transcript available at Crooks and Liars.

Yes, the gloves are off. And I am tired of censoring myself with respect to the ignominious vermin in the current administration. If stronger language offends you, you might want to avoid this blog until Bush retires or my higher nature rises again.

h/t to Hoffmania for the video link

The Dhammapada on Joy

Let us live in joy, never hating those who hate us. Let us live in freedom, without hatred even among those who hate.

Let us live in joy, never falling sick like those who are sick. Let us live in freedom, without disease even among those who are ill.

Let us live in joy, never attached among those who are selfishly attached. Let us live in freedom even among those who are bound by selfish attachments.

Let us live in joy, never hoarding things even among those who hoard. Let us live in growing joy like the bright gods.

Conquest breeds hatred, for the conquered live in sorrow. Let us be neither conqueror nor conquered, and live in peace and joy.

There is no fire like lust, no sickness like hatred, no sorrow like separateness, no joy like peace. No disease is worse than greed, no suffering worse than selfish passion. Know this, and seek nirvana as the highest joy.

Health is the best gift, contentment the best wealth, trust the best kinsman, nirvana the greatest joy. Drink the nectar of the dharma in the depths of meditation, and become free from fear and sin.

It is good to meet the wise, even better to live with them. But avoid the company of the immature if you want joy.

Keeping company with the immature is like going on a long journey with an enemy. The company of the wise is joyful, like reunion with one's family. Therefore, live among the wise, who are understanding, patient, responsible, and noble. Keep their company like the moon moving among the stars.
--Chapter 15 of The Dhammapada, translated by Eknath Easwaran

Feast of St Theodore of Tarsus

I am counting on Padre Mickey to be all over this but I have to put in a few words and graphics on behalf of the only (to date) Greek-speaking Archbishop of Canterbury, St Theodore of Tarsus. The photo below is one I took of a window frame in St Lawrence, Hallgarth, showing Abp. Theodore anointing St Cuthbert as bishop.Theodore was a Greek monk who was appointed to be Archbishop of Canterbury. He came to England with Adrian (or Hadrian) the African, a North African monk who headed up the archbishop's school in Canterbury. Together they brought a great deal of scholarship to the English Church. Theodore died on this day in 690 CE.

This was all during a time of incredible cross-fertilization of cultures. The Celtic and Roman usages were still sorting themselves out and influencing each other (it's not as if the Council of Whitby ended all influence). Benedict Biscop had traveled to Rome and brought back not only relics and icons but also imported Italian and Gallic artisans for Monkwearmouth and Jarrow. Celts and Saxons were influencing each other's cultures. It was an era of many saints and a flourishing culture (the Golden Age of Northumbria).

As we look back to those days and the legacy we enjoy from them, perhaps we might be less anxious about the multi-culturalism of our own era and choose instead to rejoice at the riches we enjoy from one another.

You can read more about Theodore here and here and here. For a decidedly different perspective (and one with more than a tint of lavender) there is a fictional work on him here.
Almighty God, you called your servant Theodore of Tarsus from Rome to the see of Canterbury, and gave him gifts of grace and wisdom to establish unity where there had been division, and order where there had been chaos: Create in your Church, by the operation of the Holy Spirit, such godly union and concord that it may proclaim, both by word and example, the Gospel of the Prince of Peace; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

How timely. Amen and amen.
--the BB

Площадь Островского

WHL stolling on Ostrovskiy Square, St Petersburg
(c) PES 2004/2005

Gratuitous Tuesday Evening Rose Blogging

A Piñata Rose photographed on April 26 of this year. This vine has had repeated blooms and they are fascinating. All manner of shades of scarlet, butter, crimson, purplish-pinks, tangerine. Since it has now had a season to establish itself I really look forward to next year!
--the BB

I have long desired

...to have a bumper sticker with this text:


We would be so much happier a race if we could accept both halves of this. We attribute no end of inappropriate meaning to the sundry miseries of life, concluding erroneously that great misfortunes and endless minor crap occur for reasons. We insist on reasons. Perhaps we have displeased the gods (we would usually speak of God here but I think the reasoning is primitive enough to go back to earlier days). We are being punished. Or we are being tested. Can we not allow for surd shit? It is just part of the nature of things. Earthquakes are part of how our universe is constructed (well, our tiny fragment of it). If God lets nature be nature (much as we posit an allowance of free will to ourselves), then nature will do what nature does. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, tectonic plates gotta shift. To those whose lives or homes are lost and those who love them it is tragic. But there is no need to project moralism on to it. Not a punishment. Not a test. Just an earthquake. Let it be just what it is.

As for the second part.... Ah, just breathe it in. Even in earthquakes and other mishaps, grace abides. In human compassion, human action, and in the life force that causes green shoots to break through concrete, grace abides.



Just nattering. I saw my little bumper sticker graphic and couldn't resist putting it up.
--the BB

Just because we all need a break

A little John Brack to cleanse your palate

Between the steaming pile that is Iraq touched by Bush and the anxious frenesy of Anglicans (whom I refer to Susan Russell's gracious reminder to step away from the bread of anxiety), it seems good to the Holy Spirit and to me to have a mental tea dance.

Deep peace, y'all.
--the BB

Hand me that whip!

Cleansing the Temple by El Greco

Don't we all just want to be the one with the whip in hands, driving out God's enemies, who just happen to be our enemies? God does share our list, no?

The story of Jesus cleansing the Temple presents us with powerful and appealing imagery. The drama sparks and crackles with tension. Every conflict Jesus has had with authorities throughout his life hovers in the background now. We know those in power are just waiting for that one egregious slip that will yield the troublemaker up to their righteous judgment.

He, meanwhile, does some judging of his own, striking at the heart of national piety and calling into question all our systems of approaching (and managing) God. Listeners to the Gospel cannot help identifying with Jesus, yearning to cheer as he purifies God's house, driving all manner of evildoers from the Temple.

[Cue the Mikado.]

Don't we all have a little list? Those we consider to be the stumblingblocks to legitimate desires for holiness? Those who pollute holy places? Those who set up barriers to God? Those who pervert the Gospel? Those who get it all wrong and, in turn, lead others astray? Those who set up stumblingblocks? Those who come as angels of light but are, instead, agents of the enemy of souls? The wicked. The sinners. The ungodly. Those we could so easily and happily do without?

Unfortunately, no matter how appealing the tale of temple cleansing may be, Jesus had this other story--you know, the one about tares and wheat. Well, darnel. Anyway....

It seems we are to leave weed-pulling and whip-wielding and all that other righteous discernment stuff to God.

And just what part of "leave it to God" is unclear?

Precisely.

So, while fulminators fulminate and all manner of weeping, wailing, hand-wringing, gnashing of teeth, shouts, and enough anxiety to make the Theotokos break out into a flop sweat swirls about us...

How about we take a deep breath

And

Just

Let

Go

Whether the Anglican Communion survives is surely more a matter of the Holy Spirit's gracious persistence and our cooperation, in the long run, with said Spirit, than it is of any individuals or groups having their way.

Put.

Down.

That.

Whip.

Right.

Now.

[And, by the way, if you find your voice rising in decibels, it is definitely time to STFU.]

I don't care which end of which spectrum you are on, or where you are in the middle. Jesus is perfectly capable of whipping our sinful asses and I suggest we leave it to him.

Just saying.
--the BB

Ode to bloodthirsty chickenhawks

Adolph Gottlieb, Blast I, 1957

Glenn Greenwald has a gift for naming what is amid all the illusions, distortions, misdirections, obfuscations, and outright lies. Time and again he helps us all call a spade a damned shovel.

He wrote today at Salon of those lovers of war, the Kagans.

If troops want more time at home, [Fred] Kagan says, there is an easy way to achieve that: "win the war we're fighting." Of course, that would not even work, because Kagan and his friends at the Weekly Standard and the American Enterprise Institute have many more wars planned beyond Iraq for other families' sons and daughters to fight. For that reason, Kagan actually had the audacity several months ago to type this:
The president must issue a personal call for young Americans to volunteer to fight in the decisive conflict of this generation.
That's the history of our country for the last six years at least. The Fred Kagans and his dad and his brother and his wife and his best friend Bill Kristol sit back casually demanding more wars, demanding that our troops be denied any relief, demanding that the President call for other families to volunteer to fight in their wars -- all "as an intellectual or emotional exercise," as Webb put it. [Emphasis mine]

Some commentary from Wilfrid Owen of an earlier war:

Nevertheless, except you share
With them in hell the sorrowful dark of hell,
Whose world is but the trembling of a flare,
And heaven but as the highway for a shell,

You shall not hear their mirth:
You shall not come to think them well content
By any jest of mine. These men are worth
Your tears. You are not worth their merriment.

--Apologia Pro Poemate Meo (November 1917)

Just saying.

Laurence Binyon's 1914 poem "For the Fallen" heads today's I Got The News Today posting at DailyKos, honoring more of our precious troops. It is to weep.

Memory eternal.

--the BB

So, what is the Anglican Communion all about?

God's loving embrace, that's what.

Photo of my dear friend JoAnne Bennett the day she was ordained a priest by the Rt Rev Wm E Swing in Grace Cathedral, San Francisco.

All the rest, my friends, is commentary. Or irrelevant.

--the BB

The National Hispanic Cultural Center

La Santa Familia from the Permanent Collection
(I did not see the date or artist's name on the website;
if anyone can provide the information I will happily credit.)

I often let photos I have taken inspire postings here. Such is the case this evening, though the first three photos are from the website and not my own.

One of the treasures here in Albuquerque is the National Hispanic Cultural Center at 4th and Avenida César Chávez. I remember visiting there when it was quite new and being ensorceled, even if there was no current exhibit. I got to see items from the permanent collection and stroll around as though I had the whole place to myself.

We won't mention how I got totally turned around and confused north and south that day. The moral of the story, for me, is that when looking at a map the map must be oriented to the land itself, with north pointed north. Do not, under any circumstances put a map on a table in front of me with north pointing south or east or west. If you do, I will have my internal compass out of whack.

That was when I was playing tourist here. Over time I have become oriented to the Sandias in the east and thus can always tell at least that much. When mountains rise abruptly some five thousand feet at the edge of town it's hard to miss them.

Working on the mural in the Torreón

Well, back to the Center. In addition to the museum they also have a center for the performing arts with theatre for performances, rehearsal halls, an auditorium for lectures and presentations, and a film theatre. They have the Spanish Resource Center and the Instituto Cervantes; La Fonda del Bosque Restaurant (pleasant atmosphere and delicious food, I can attest). La Tiendita gift shop has all sorts of goodies and pleasant staff.

I enjoy the permanent collection and the changing exhibits are fascinating and educational. Not so long ago friends and I caught "The African Presence in Mexico," an illuminating exhibit on the neglected "third root" of modern Mexican culture. The next exhibit features Mayan textile art (see below) and opens September 28.

Just wow!

I have been there when the Plaza Mayor was jammed with throngs of people (Children's Day) and when I was practically alone. Always great energy, though very different.

It was a late winter afternoon the first time I visited and the light as I exited caught the Torreón and made it glow against the sky. I am afraid my photo gets some of the drama but not the intensity of colors.
The Plaza Mayor echoes the great pyramids of Meso-America. The aesthetic beauty of it all was stunning though I also had the uneasy feeling that heartless bodies could come tumbling down at any minute. I think the architecture is great.
Isn't this a lovely spot in between the museum and office on the one hand and the performing arts center on the other? The light at that time was magical and I encourage you to click and enlarge this shot. Not bragging on my photos but on what I was privileged to see.

And oh! the cottonwoods in the courtyard--majestic, ¿que no?

How did you guess that I signed up to become a foundation member? Well, I just want to share a local treasure with a larger audience. If you ever come to ABQ, perhaps I can take you there for a visit.

Nos vemos.
--the BB

Michael Ware of CNN lays it all out

For all the talk about listening to the generals on the ground (which Bush never does, he just fires the ones who disagree and looks for yes-men), what might we learn from a reporter on the ground, someone who's spent a lot of time in Iraq and has a better sense of what's going on than DC pundits and WH toadies?

Well, here is CNN's Michael Ware talking to Anderson Cooper.


Thanks to Hoffmania, from which I snaffled this.

I weary of the lying weasel in the Oval Office. Worse than weariness is grief over the damage done to our country, the needless slaughter of our fighting men and women, the callous indifference shown as our infrastructure deteriorates, our cities perish, our land is poisoned, our people suffer and die at the hands of insurance companies (if they have insurance), the global situation becomes increasingly parlous, and the America of which I have been so proud now stands among the nations a thing of disappointment, pity, and moral revulsion.

Dammit, Americans, take your country back!

And Democrats in Congress, for the sake of all that is holy regrow your spines. Don't give that spoiled dry drunk fratboy an inch. Stand up for the Constitution. Stand up for America. Stand up for this fragile world. Stand up for our troops. Stand up for future generations. I am tired of watching y'all drop trou (or hoist skirt) and bend over for that son of a bitch.

There, I said it. I mean it.

Bring back leadership.

And bring back America.

I miss it.

You can hear more of Michael Ware at Crooks and Liars:

…if the President means by ordinary lives families essentially living locked up in their homes in almost perpetual darkness, without refrigeration or perhaps constantly struggling for ever more expensive gas to run generators, if he means waiting in their homes wondering if government death squads will drag them off and torture them and execute them, if he means living in sectarian cleansed neighborhoods where people who were your friends have had to flee, if he’s talking about living in communities that are protected by militias, then yeah, life’s returned to ordinary.

--the BB

I like this part of the world

Another picture from a year ago, taken near my current home (Desert Farne: no alisos in this neighborhood).

Speaking of St Cyprian's Day, which it will be in this time zone in less than twenty minutes, Happy Birthday to Darren Boghosian!
--the BB

Calling all New Mexico botanists!

The photo above is a bit out of focus (I believe the wind was blowing as I took it). You may click on it to enlarge. I took this photo on St Cyprian's Day last year: September 13, 2006.

These flowering plants appear to grow wild and I like the pale orange blossoms but I have not seen a photo in any field guide that strikes me as this plant. Can someone tell me what it is?

Thanks in advance.
--the BB

The inner tree

Alnus rhombifolia, methinks

When I moved to my previous home in Hercules, California, there were lots of alder trees in the condo complex. This included several right in front of my unit. I lived on the upper floor and looked out into lovely branches and foliage, as though I dwelt in a tree house.

I recognized alder trees because there lots of them near my dorm at UCLA back in the early 70s. Given the botanic garden just downhill from the dorm, we were treated to labels of the flora on campus. I rather took it as a sign that I should live there. I loved the trees, I talked to the trees, I prayed with the trees.
April 2002 was when I moved in. How I reveled in those trees. I even named my home "Los Alisos" (Spanish for "the Alders").

The following January I spent the night at a friend's house and came home the next day to see my beloved trees cut to the ground. There had been no prior warning. All I had were stumps and those were removed fairly quickly. (I was able to salvage one slice of one tree.)

Devastating.

I smudged the wounds in the earth where the trees had once been and sprinkled the spot with tobacco. (I don't smoke; it is for offerings to the seven directions and to the earth when I harvest.) I mourned.

Fortunately it was a period when I had been reading Buddhist materials and I was very conscious of the impermanence of all things. Lesson brought home, eh?

I concluded that the trees had blessed me for a while and that now it was time for me to cultivate my inner alder, the well-rooted and grace-bestowing tree within me.

While browsing photos on my computer I came across the ones above and thought it must be time to share this.

May your inner trees flourish and give fruit and shade to those around you.

Happy New Year!
--the BB

Speaking of cats, bears, trees, etc.

There is a lovely post at JN1034 titled Orthodox Prayer for Creatures and Creation. The folks there have begun the new Orthodox ecclesiastical year with a nice emphasis on creation. If you don't know that site, it has lots of interesting posts and link to tons of Orthodox resources.

O God, you are the Giver of all life, the One who has called creatures and all creation into being according to Your love, reflecting your own image, your own breath of life, your own Spirit.

If it's September, it must be the Forest Service

Deschutes National Forest

Looking into the crater of Broken Top, (Elev. 9165’),
high in the Three Sisters Wilderness Area.
Photographer: Leland J. Prater
Courtesy of the US Forest Service

Posting was light last week (and may continue to be) since I began work as a consultant at the Albuquerque Service Center of the Forest Service. This is the third year in a row I have begun a temporary consulting job there. Maybe this time around I will be able to land something permanent. I do enjoy the people and the commute is fine. I especially love the physical environment, the architecture and landscaping around the Journal Center here in Albuquerque. The little vignette of the San Francisco Building currently in the top right of this blog is one shot I took of the building where I am working once more.

I like to think of it was working for Smoky. He and I come from the same era and Smoky Bear was a really big icon of my childhood. Not to mention that there is the affinity among fellow bears.*

*We are talking totem animal and psychic identification here, not the furry gay men gathering at the Russian River for Lazy Bear Weekend. I may qualify for the latter but that's not my inner identity.

During my childhood and youth I spend my summers in the Sierra surrounded by the Sequoia National Forest. That experience has shaped me profoundly and has a lot to do with why I consider myself a tree mystic. I don't hug them, but I do bond with them.

Well, since tomorrow is a work day--Work?!!! Thank you, Maynard Krebs--I will stop typing and post. Will try to do better about posting as days go by.
--the BB

I have never understood...

... the whole phenomenon of Friday cat blogging. I know cat lovers love their cats. "Some of my closest friends are cat lovers." [Honest!] And, in fact, I have loved me some cats in my day.

Anyway, I have for some time felt I should put my two cents' worth in. So here, for all the felinophiles, is my entry in Sunday cat blogging. [Well, I didn't have time to do it on Friday.]
Patches on the right is a calico house cat, of course. Markus is the big lion and Leo is the cub trying to get out from under his big brother's paw. Each is a gift linking my memories to wonderful persons and special occasions. In fact, they are all related in different ways to my vocation.

Markus came to me from Marilyn Belove who once said, during those seemingly endless years of the process toward ordination, "God ordained you a priest before the foundation of the world." She helped me get through some thin times, let me tell you. Thank you, Marilyn!

Walter Guettsche, a priest from Texas, gave me Leo as an ordination present, celebrating my having survived the ecclesiastical hoop jumping. Walter, may you rest in peace and rise in glory!

John and Gail King presented me with my first cat, Patches, at a farewell party when I left Saint Cuthbert's, Oakland. Like Molly Sugden as Mrs. Slocombe, I am fond of my pussy. [If you have not watched countless episodes of Are You Being Served, don't ask. And for heaven's sake, let's go beyond that. Don't ask. Don't tell. Don't even go there.] The Kings have blessed me with lovely holiday meals and Christmastide has not seemed the same since I am not near enough for their Boxing Day feasts. Bless you, John and Gail (today and every anniversary).

Among the blessings of vocation, I had the privilege of presiding and preaching at Holy Eucharist this morning for San Gabriel's, the parochial mission of St. Michael and All Angels. I am rarely happier or more fulfilled than doing just that. Boundless thanks and lots of love to all who helped me on the journey (which continues).

--the BB

The only commentator on television...

... that I give a fig for. The inimitable Keith Olbermann speaks the truth. If only we had a chorus of such folks!



To this we can add these words from Dan Froomkin in his WaPo article "Kabuki at Camp Cupcake":

What Bush Saw

More than four years after declaring " Mission Accomplished" in Iraq, Bush still can't make an announced visit to the war-wracked country.

But his supposed "visit to Anbar Province" was in some ways even more cynical -- and accepted even more gullibly by the media -- than his June 2006 visit to Baghdad. There, at least, he actually set foot on Iraqi soil.

This time, Bush visited Al-Asad Air Base -- an enormous, heavily fortified American outpost for 10,000 troops that while technically in Anbar Province in fact has a 13-mile perimeter keeping Iraq -- and Iraqis -- at bay. Bush never left the confines of the base, known as " Camp Cupcake," for its relatively luxurious facilities, but nevertheless announced: "When you stand on the ground here in Anbar and hear from the people who live here, you can see what the future of Iraq can look like."

via Atrios


On a happier note, today is not only the feast of Paul Jones, bishop and peace activist, but the 903rd anniversary of the Translation of Saint Cuthbert, when his relics were moved into the shrine of the new Norman cathedral in Durham. Though the old shrine was pillaged under Henry VIII, Cuthbert still rests on that site.

Holy Cuthbert, pray for us.

--the BB

The Joy of Leftovers

Blessed are those whose friends send them home with leftovers!

All right, it might not be found among the macarisms of Jesus but that doesn't mean it isn't true.

I am blessed to have known a number of fabulous cooks in my life, chief among whom is my BFF. For this blessed reason I came home with a huge chunk of grilled lamb last Wednesday evening. Now if "eternity is two people and a ham" (as aforementioned BFF has said more than once), one person with a huge bunch of lamb runs a close second. I have been enjoying the lamb but it was time for something different. (Thin slices of cold lamb with fresh pilaf is heaven but not for too many days in a row).

I thus decreed today to be Lamb Curry Day. [It is also, in the Roman Calendar, the feast of Saint Gregory the Great, a favorite saint of my BFF. The icon I wrote of said saint for said BFF is at the top of this post.]
Clockwise from top left: leftover lamb, yellow onion and garlic, cherry pepper*, caraway seeds, powdered turmeric, cumin, cayenne, sliced cherry tomatoes*, and a stick of cinnamon in the center. To all this I added ground almonds to thicken it, sundried tomato paste, a little bit of chicken bouillon (yes, I cheat, a bouillon cube and water heated in the microwave), sea salt, and some heavy cream.
My wings will undoubtedly be ripped off for not going out into the yard for a sprig of fresh basil to garnish the plate, but there you have it. Lunch.

I am so glad I learned to cook. Thank you Jesus and Holy Mother Mary. And all those cooks over the years, domestic, professional, and institutional.

Happy Saint's Day, Snooks!
--the BB

Theology meme: the commitments of theology

I found this little game on Holy Vignettes (with the lovely motto: "I have faced my demons and now they clean my room"). You may see HV's answers here.

Finish these sentences. (And explain why you say what you do, if you like giving explanations!)



Theology exists to ________________.



If someone reads my theological writing and only remembers one thing afterwards, I want it to be ___________________.



No matter what topic we're dealing with, theologians must take into account ___________, because we ignore it at our peril.

Everybody finished? OK, pencils down.

Here's what I wrote (off the top of my head).

Theology exists to articulate our experience of the Divine.

If someone reads my theological writing and only remembers one thing afterwards, I want it to be that you and all creation are cherished by God.

No matter what topic we're dealing with, theologians must take into account the Holy Spirit, Whom we ignore at our peril.

I am not going into extended explanation here. For me our experience of God has priority and is primary theology. Our response, including worship and service, is secondary theology. Trying to understand these and articulate this understanding is tertiary and what we commonly call theology.

In Hindu terminology (ooh, he's getting heterodox now) I would be a bhakti yogi, following the path of devotion. My theology is a mystical theology of the heart, so it is no surprise that I emphasize the love of God.

Finally, when I first read about the centrality of the Holy Spirit in Eastern Orthodox thought and piety--way back in Baptist seminary days--I was instantly moved to say, Of course! I have been ruthlessly and delightedly pneumatological in my theology ever since. I quite agree with the Orthodox critique of Western Christianity for its minimizing of the Holy Spirit, though I do not fall within the charismatic camp. --the BB

Lest we forget

Thanks to the Group News Blog. They comment as follows:

Don't Forget to Breathe

The above video shows the aftermath of graphic violence, blood, death. Mostly it shows war. And people who want us gone. Soldiers caught up in war. Except for the first shot, which makes a statement, after a bit it all blured together. Kind of the problem.

--the BB

Sunday morning worship

I know the feast of the Transfiguration (August 6) has come and gone but this is just to provide a visual focus while y'all soak up the glories of some Russian liturgical music. Thanks to David Charles Walker on whose blog (On the Beach) I came across the clip. And to Jonathan (aka madpriest at OCICBW) for pointing me to On the Beach.

Bask in God's presence.


--the BB

Coming Home

‘Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.'
Matthew 13:45-46

I just learned from Jane R. (and Ed) that JohnieB's mother Pearl has died in Arkansas. JohnieB is a gracious visitor of our blogs and has commented here several times. We hold our cyberfriend and his family in prayer as he journeys to Arkansas.

May Christ give you rest in the land of the living and open for you the gates of paradise, may he receive you as a citizen of the Kingdom, and grant you forgiveness of your sins: for you were his friend.
--Orthodox Funeral Rite

Shameless borrowing of beauty

I saw this video on Group News Blog and could not resist sharing it with those who pass through here. [They in turn got it from Shakespeare's Sister.] Gotta love Blogtopia.*

Women in Western Art. Lovely.



Enjoy!
--the BB
*Blogtopia was coined by skippy the bush kangaroo whom I happily acknowledge.

Ah, the sleazeballs

The folks at "Freedom Watch" ('scuze me while I puke) have launched a bunch of ads targeting districts where there might be waffling on Bush's war cause. I don't know whether I should scream or weep. I watched one with an amputee vet and I just wanted to cry for him and all like him but his invoking 9/11 in relation to the invasion and occupation of Iraq sent my mind reeling. I wanted to cry for him and say, "Son, Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. Al Qaeda was not in Iraq until we invaded and now we've created a situation that recruits folks for AQ. You've been fed a load of bullshit and I feel so sorry for you thinking that withdrawing from Iraq now would make your sacrifice meaningless."

Life is complex. Messy. Untidy. And frequently damned uncomfortable. The reality is that any troop who sacrifices in service to our country must be honored for that commitment, that patriotism, that price paid. They will always be heroes in my eyes and what they do will always be meaningful. At the same time, every drop of blood spilled in George Bush's illegal, immoral, ill-advised, and disastrous war in Iraq is a drop that need not have been spilled and was thus a meaningless waste from the beginning. Both of these are true at the same time.

So I say we must uphold our troops and our vets with highest honor, gratitude, and--dammit--support (like seeing their benefits don't get cut and VA funding doesn't shrink and army hospitals like Walter Reed and VA facilities aren't falling apart; and how about getting up-armored vehicles to the troops in the field without the delay of cost-cutting that won't rush them by airlift--sweet suffering Savior, how callous and irresponsible can our government be?). At the same time we must not link some hypothetical and unobtainable "victory" in a hopeless situation and ongoing slaughter and sacrifice of American and Iraqi lives somehow with making American troops' sacrifice meaningful. It won't. It cannot. Nothing can redeem the horror that idiot in the Oval Office has unleashed. Nothing. It cannot be redeemed. It can only be stopped.

[Yeah, yeah, Jesus redeems, but our government isn't Jesus and Bush isn't God's anointed--what a blasphemy--so get over it and deal on a human level. God is not going to bless our sorry asses for what we are doing in Iraq. Jesus said blessed are the peacemakers, remember? Not the warmongers, the peacemakers. ]

Well, back to me almost weeping for this vet being used shamelessly by Bushco and their allies. I have since seen one of the ads while waiting in a tire shop yesterday.

NM-01, the district centered on Albuquerque where Heather Wilson (R--she of the weeping over Janet Jackson's breast fame) almost lost last November, is one of the targeted districts for this campaign. In fact, the one with the highest amount of advertising dollars when I looked the other day. I have not heard any news that she is likely to waffle on her long-standing support of Bush but I do hope she's been getting an earful from her constituents. (I get the most fatuous form letters from her people when I e-mail my opinions to her office.)

These ads, designed to drum up support for Georgie's war, call on folks to tell Congress how you feel. Only when you dial the number provided you get Freedom Watch, where they screen your opinion and only forward messages they like. Lower than pond scum, in my opinion.

Here is a little exposé for y'all, courtesy of the nice folks at Americans United:



--the cranky BB

Time for a giggle with a tiny little wiggle

An Australian safety ad on the topic of speeding. Enjoy.

(h/t to Dennis at Of Course I Could Be On Vacation... where you can read an entire article on the campaign)
--the BB