To ..... or NOT to....

Ah, faithful reader... if there are any! It has been a while since last I wrote.

The past two weeks have been a time of contemplation, of soul-searching; of discouragement and defeat and of exhaustion. Not a time that I normally am able to create or write. My mind, during these times, pulls in on itself choosing to go into hibernation in order to rejuvenate.

My friend, my pastor, has resigned her position. My church has lost a valuable asset. This happened a week ago, and I haven't been able to write about it... haven't known what to write about it.

And truth told, I'm still not sure what to say. I'm not sure what my future at my church is, if there is one, or what.

It has brought so much to light, the anger I feel towards others, the disappointment I feel that after so much work done over the past several years, we still don't know how as a congregation to behave towards each other. I'm not sure if I have the energy to try again.

And yet, I got an email today from someone, from a person that has taken to posting a daily thought (or thoughts) to a list I'm on. This individual's thoughts are usually of the "ho, hum" variety. But today, the thought seemed to speak right TO me.

It was about forgiveness. Forgiveness is something I'm no stranger too. By and large, I forgive almost as fast as I get angry. I almost NEVER carry anger past bedtime. And even when I do, it generally only takes a few days.

But, there are some noteable differences. Right now, I wonder if I'll EVER forgive those I perceive as being behind our current difficulties at church. And while I usually have no problem appending to the previous sentence a statement like "Well, I KNOW I will." Right now, I can't do that.

I've forgiven most people in my life. I've forgiven all my childhood hurts. I only remember ONE person from that period who wronged me, and I can't feel anything other than pity and sadness for him.

I've forgiven just about everyone from my teens. In deed, I've forgiven all individuals that harmed me then, but still need to work on forgiveness toward them as a group... it's coming. Sometimes forgiving means leaving. Choosing to put something behind me by not putting myself in a position to remember. Because remembering can sometimes be a strong fuel.

Heck. I have even forgiven the man who raped me when I was 17. What he did was wrong, but in a funny sort of way, he did me a small favor.

But I've never forgiven the archbishop of Omaha. I know I should, but I hold that anger like a warm blanket around me. I've allowed it to morph into a hatred that transcends mere anger. I've allowed the anger towards "that monk" at Conception to moulder about my feet.

I've even forgiven the people at St. Meinrad, fellow students, who harbored such hate. I look at them, their memories in my mind, and know they never knew they hated me... which I guess is part of my anger towards them... but I've forgiven that. That was MY problem, not theirs... no, not really.

But now I look at these folks at my church. I resent them so. In fact, it may well be that I hate some of them.

"Forgive us our sins, as WE forgive those who have harmed us."

Yeah, I know. It's time to remember that the end can come... most likely WILL come like a thief; I'll not know the hour of it's coming. To be harboring the hatreds and angers then will be a costly burden to bear. Will God look in to my heart and say "Well, you've done so much right, and so much wrong... and frankly, I can forgive you all your wrong, Eric. But YOU said to forgive you to the degree you forgive others... and you haven't forgiven others."

I fear that. I don't fear answering to God for who I am, who I love. I fear answering to God for whom I DON'T love. And that's sad. Because MY God is not one to be feared. MY God is one to look at, gaze upon in wonder and awe. Because MY God is a baby in a manger who lived to show ME how to live.

So, once again, I vow. I swear I WILL find it in me to forgive that bishop, that monk. That group of students who, as individuals were human, but as a herd (yes, a herd) were less than human to me. I forgive them too.

And tomorrow, I guess, I'll forgive that bishop, that monk and that herd again. And the day after. And the day after. And then, maybe someday someone or something will remind me to forgive them all over again... because it took a lot of work to come to hate them this much; it stands to reason, it'll take a lot of work to put that hate aside. Who knows... perhaps in forgiving, I'll come to forgive the Roman Catholic Church, as well.

And those folks at church. I'll work at not letting my anger grow to something that is crippling. And I'll work to forgive them, too.

I wonder if they'll put as much effort into forgiving me?

Almost but not quite....

This morning's drive to work was marked by the dreary overcast so common to this time of year. Gray clouds lowered over the interstate; trees hunkered down, wrapped in the not-quite-fog, their empty arms upraised in praise, or perhaps surrender. My tires hummed on the damp pavement as I struggled to find the right fit, not too fast, not too slow.

My mind drifted back to the study at church last night, the study of the book of Hebrews. We summarized the past several weeks study as we wrapped up this interesting book, and we remarked on the appropriateness of some verses to our current situation at church. "We have much to say about this, but it is hard to explain because you are slow to learn. In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God's word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil." We are, it was agreed, a vicious throng, devouring those who should be leading us, binding them in chains, leading them away into a captivity of spirit that lesser folks would shrink from.

Alas, our study didn't lead to any solutions, just a gnawing sense that something has to change. We'll overcome, we'll move ahead, grow new membership, then repeat the whole process.

One of the church signs I watch for new kernels of enlightenment proclaimed the following:

Jesus - First
Others - Second
Yourself - Last

I thought about that. There's reality in it, as there almost always is in the pithy little pericopes of thought these signs share. It also seemed to me how easy it is for us to get wrapped up in the first and third, but forget the second. Yet, when we put other's first, above all else, we just naturally find ourselves putting Jesus first, after all.

This past Sunday it was again my job to organize the breakfast for our homeless constituents. I did something I hadn't done the previous numerous times I've cooked... I turned over the serving to others.

And I left church feeling so unfed.

It dawned on me, it's in the serving of others that I've been meeting Jesus each week. "Good morning, sir!" "Good morning, Ma'am!" "Have a nice day!" These little comments, so innocent, seemingly meaningless, are most profound when sincerely applied to those our society chooses NOT to respect, or care about. Whatsoever you do...

Another topic last night was equality. We considered that we as a people pay such lip service to this concept. We profess equality of all people, yet don't try to be too equal, you've overstepped your place!

These folk who come in, they deserve respect, they deserve to be treated as my equal. Not because they have succeeded at something, the normal standard of equality, the normative measure for deserving respect. They deserve respect and recognition of their equality, not for what they have done or contributed, or are likely to contribute, but rather they are deserving of respect for the simple fact that they exist. They are humans, created in God's image, and made little lower than the angels themselves.

Melchizedek. From "Malek" and "Tsedeq". King and Righteousness. Old Melchy is mentioned more in Hebrews than in any of the rest of scripture. Considered by some to be a precursor of the Christ, who, like the Christ, came out bearing bread and wine and blessing. How many other times, we asked ourselves last night, has the Christ been made manifest, in hidden forms, to this earth?

Might, we asked, the various suppositions of angelic involvement in human affairs really be the Christ? No resolution to that, either, how could there be? Yet, it seemed to me, the answer is yes. And no. No, because the stories we were specifically considering are of people who more or less miraculously appear, fix a problem or assist in a burden, then disappear from our lives. That seems to me to be a succinctly angelic function.

But I do believe the Christ has appeared to us in other forms than old Melchy or Jesus. I think he's the hitchhiker under the bridge whom I passed by. I think he's that homeless man in the serving line who doesn't say anything but smiles the most beautiful smile.

It's THAT Christ that I hope I'm reaching when I ladle up the next serving of sausage or eggs or potatos.

And speaking of potatos... our guests didn't much like our potatos on Sunday. They were very much undercooked. And the orange juice was, well, a bit watery.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers... at least they left with a full stomach."

If I threw a dinner party, and the potatos were undercooked, and the beverage watered down... I'd be utterly embarassed... so would those who dismissed it Sunday.

How do I tell those who dismiss undercooked potatos and watery OJ, how do I express what is in my heart? "Beggars can't be choosers..." The whole thought is condescending. Coming into this act of servitude with that mindset, that condescending attitude is absolutely the wrong way to go about it. For one thing, I believe it's a prescription for burnout.

I'm not serving beggars. I'm serving Jesus. I don't want to give him/her undercooked potatos and watery OJ. My Sunday breakfast isn't only about getting food to the hungry. These breakfasts are, for me, about the homeless. They're about loving service.

No, I don't want to serve undercooked potatos or watery juice to Jesus. And I don't want to give him divided attention and a distant heart.

The answer is....

Questions. We all have them. And most of us have numerous questions for which we have no answers... I know I'm always searching for a myriad of answers to numerous questions, complex and simple alike.

But, sometimes, I wonder if I really know what the questions are. Let me rephrase that. Sometimes I don't know what the Questions are. Did you catch that subtlety? Questions... capital Q. The BIG QUESTIONS of life. As Socrates said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." I think I agree. I try to engage in examination at every opportunity.

It's simple, what I'm seeking in this blog, really. I want to know the Questions that are worth examining. I've come up with a few.

WON'T YOU HELP ME come up with more????

Here's what I have so far:

* Who am I?
* Why am I here?
* Am I (humanity) all there is?
* Is there a Higher Power, and if so, what is the nature of that Higher Power?
* If there is a Higher Power, what is my relation to it?

So... for you small number of folk who read me from time to time, please, set me on a new quest.... what're the questions?

Baa Baa Black Sheep... that's ME!

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful... well, maybe not so fateful, actually... life. I think it's going to be a long one, though I'll try to keep it short. It's the story of evolution. Or at least the evolution of one life. Mine.

I was born in Council Bluffs, Iowa, USA. At 1 1/2 years old, my family moved to Omaha, Nebraska, just across the mighty Missouri River from Council Bluffs. Omaha is a more economically vibrant community than Council Bluffs, and is about 10 times larger. Council Bluffs equals small town hicks, Omaha equals suave urbanites... well, as far as this part of the country is concerned, anyhow!

Dad was an engineer working with a local gas company that was destined to become a major corporation, part of the now infamous Enron. But dad was also back in school, studying law. By the time I was old enough to really hold on to my memories, dad was a Patent Attorney (the only one in all Nebraska) in private practice. Our family was a good, solid middle class American family, a mom, a dad, 3 kids, a dog or two (until I was in Kindergarten) and a cat, two cars in the garage... though, no picket fence. Picket fences simply weren't done in our neighborhood. We really wanted for nothing, as far as I knew. Our house was a white ranch with rust colored shutters, and red brick lower walls. We had 7 elms in our yard, all of which survived the elm sickness of the 70s. I learned to climb those trees, and had a blast doing so!

We stayed in our western suburbs, going to school, and church, and doing our shopping. We were Republicans. Most folk in the area were. We shopped down the street at the local stip mall. Dad worked downtown, a part of the city that made me cringe. I hated going there. We had to, from time to time, as the better department stores were there. I was never so happy to have the mall open up out by us! And then a second!

I went to the local public school for a few years, then a new Catholic Church opened it's doors and a school and I transferred there. For high school, I attended a private, catholic boarding school. I hated being away from home.

One year, as part of our education, we had to go downtown to a really nasty part of town, and helped out in a new shelter for the homeless... we had to help clean and scrub to make it ready for the coming residents. I hated it. I preferred my nice clean whitebread suburbs.

Well, let's fast forward a bit. I went off to college. I wasn't really sure what to do with my life, but two very divergent paths seemed open to me, and of interest. One was the Catholic priesthood. The other the military. I read those famous lines in John "If you love me, feed my sheep." Three times, Jesus asked "Do you love me". Three times he was assured of that love. Three times he responded "Feed my sheep." I read those lines, and thought yes, I'll do that. But other opportunities offered themselves, and in the end I enrolled in ROTC, got a scholarship, got married (yes, to a woman!) and headed off to my first military base assignment. I spent 4 years there, divorced, moved to California, and volunteered my time at my nice upper middle class Catholic Church. I, the lone, staunch Republican, ex-active duty army officer, in Berkeley, California in 1987. Berkeley. California. The only city in the United States with it's own foreign policy, diametrically opposed to that glorious foreign policy of the worlds' greatest leader, Ronald Reagon. Radical Lefties in a Liberal (shudder) state.

I offered my services to the pastor. He asked me to sit on the Social Justice Committee. The rest of my committee members were mostly university professors and professionals from around the community.

Now, let me ask you this... do you remember what was going on in the world in 1987? Ronald Reagan was president, fighting the mighty Evil Empire (which would crumble in a few more years) via proxy wars in El Salvador and insurgencies in Nicaragua.

And here I sat, in a room full of radicals, the lone Republican. They wanted us to bring in illegals from El Salvador and I didn't like that one bit. Don't really remember much else, other than this. I only post it so that you get a picture of my character at that time.

Comes 1991, and I move BACK to Omaha to begin studying for the priesthood. I was provided housing in a home deep in downtown part of the city. I remember driving down to the house feeling a great deal of fear and concern. It dawned on me that day that my "yes" to what I perceived as God's calling was really a "Yes, as long as I get to do ministry to rich white folk."

So "what's the point of all this?" you ask. I was thinking about this on my way to work this morning. And I've begun to change. I'm no longer the conservative, republican ex-military man surrounded by arch-liberal professors discussing the plight of the world's poor.

Thirteen years have passed since a cocky, rich, Republican drove in to downtown Omaha. In those years, I've moved a lot, lived all over town, in other states, and am now living over in Hicksville Council Bluffs, again! If I cared to put myself on that ugly "class ladder" that so many American's are so intent upon, I guess I'm still middle class; poverty has not even come close... but I'm not happy. Relative financial success hasn't filled my life with meaning.

Recently, I've started to realize that 18 years ago, an experience I had on the wind swept prairies of northern Nebraska was more than I thought it was. I was reflecting on that sense of calling I had perceived at the start of my college life "Feed my sheep." I remember praying, "God what do you want me to do?" And I remember that request to Feed His Sheep. "But God, what do you want me to DO?" I asked again and again that week. Then, one beautiful evening, as I watched a glorious sunset and looked at an old cross up on a hilltop silhouetted against that sunset, I felt peace and really felt (I still DO believe this) that God spoke to me. "Don't worry. You will do My will." I thought that meant the priesthood, and I dedicated the next 10 years to achieving that goal. I think now, I misheard God. I think God really meant it... "Feed my sheep." "Feed my people." Not with spiritual food, but with real, honest stick to the bones, hot nourishing food.

"When I was hungry, you shook your head in sorrow and wondered why someone wouldn't feed me..." I read that in the bible, didn't I? Isn't that what Jesus said to those who purport to be his followers? Or was it "When I was hungry, you FED me... whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, THAT you do to me." Yeah, that's it.

Jesus was a compassionate prophet, the Son of God. Marcus Borg has that right. Boil away all the rest of the gobbledy-gook of scripture, and focus on Jesus words and actions... he didn't care about the politics of his day, the singleminded insistence on "doing things right"; Jesus merely reflected for us what God wanted him to... that God is all about love, and God is all about mercy, and God is all about compassion. And most importantly that following after God is all about BEING those attributes, modelling those concepts in our life.

I read a sign the other day: "The smallest good deed is vastly superior to the grandest intention."

I can't do a lot. I may be far from poor, but most of my paycheck goes to taking care of myself and Scott, and Gary, too. But I can give of myself. I've found a new ministry... feeding God's Sheep... feeding the homeless at my church. I have to miss worship to do it... and I don't care.

With every sausage I put on a plate, I look into the eyes of a hungry person, and say "Have a nice day, sir." Or "Have a nice day, ma'am."

Every sausage on a plate, every serving of eggs or potatos or pancakes, I give to God. I feed a lot of Jesuses. How many more have I ignored in my life? Far too many.

Green Acres is the place for me.... Gr...

Well, it's been a while since I blogged last. Nearly two weeks. I'm not sure, really, why it's been that long. The day after my last post, I left for a trip to Houston, and got back the following Tuesday. Then there was LOTS of work to get caught up on, both at the office, and at church... But, that's that, now's now, and I'm ready to post again.

The focus of my thoughts for the past couple weeks, off and on, have been on the issue of marriage. Of course, we all know the negative focus afforded that topic in this past mudslinging fest, also known as an election. That probably got my mind on the topic.

Then, at the retreat I was on in Houston, we (a group of 52 mostly GLBTIEtc folk) shared the facility with International Marriage Encounter. The first night there, we were lectured on the importance of NOT displaying public affection for each other. Instead we were subjected to the PDA's of straight couples. This irritated me immensely. But that angst is not the topic of this column today, so the heck with it.

Since returning from Houston, I've been reading the blog of a guy who was getting married last weekend. He posted many endearing blogs this past week as the excitement built, then some thoughts since the ceremony concluded.

So... marriage has been on my mind a lot, lately.

What, exactly IS marriage? And what is it we, as gay folk (and all the rest of the alphabetic cohorts of ours) want in marriage? Okay, I'm not going to answer those questions for anyone but myself. Obviously, I can't answer for anyone else.

And my column is not the place for a scholarly evaluation of marriage, either. So if I leave something out, and you happen to come across this blog, see that something is missing, well... get over it. :D

Very loosely stated, I see marriage comprising 3 elements, not all of which are present to each marriage.

First, marriage is between two individuals. It's two people coming together and saying "We want to commit ourselves to each other, to living and loving together." It's probably, in this stage, mostly exclusive to the two. I say mostly exclusive, because I won't rule out that some couples enter into this relationship with an open understanding that there will be others. That's not part of what I want to discuss. So, marriage is between two people.

Second, marriage is the joining of two people together, as in the previous paragraph, in the sight of God or a Higher Power, and for these individuals, it is an agreement to honor their relationship with each other and God as a commitment of some type.

Third, marriage is the joining of two people together as sanctioned by the state.

And this is really the point that began my interest in this blog.

Call it sour grapes... the "Theology of Sour Grapes" or the "Politics of Sour Grapes" or just plain "Sour Grapes". Either way, I just don't see it.

Yes, it would be nice if I could enter into a marriage contract with my partner that is recognized by the state. It would be cheaper if I could, there'd be lots of convenience things, but that's about it.

What's important to me is the first two options. And I have those. I celebrated a Holy Union with my partner in 1997. That means that my relationship with Scott is every bit as valid as anyone who stood before a minister and was "officially" married.

The state has no business in marriage, and needs to get out.

Radical Beliefs

Micah 6:7-8

Would GOD be impressed with thousands of rams,with buckets and barrels of olive oil?
Would [GOD] be moved if I sacrificed my firstborn child,my precious baby, to cancel my sin?

But [GOD]'s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what GOD is looking for in men and women.
It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don't take yourself too seriously--take God seriously.
(The Message)

I grew up in a staunch Republican home. I also grew up in a time when wives TENDED (I don't mean to generalize, here) to vote the path their husbands voted... at least, all the parents who provided role models to me... mom & dad, aunts & uncles, my friends folks. And generally, the kids I knew sided with their parents... so, I was a staunch Republican... and my favorite cousin was a staunch Democrat. It was during those formative years that developed (and maintain) a strict abhorrence of political discourse. Voicing opinions about political issues always induced argument. And I hated arguments... especially with those I love!

As I grew older, my political views became more and more my own. And by the time I left active duty in the US Army (I was a captain! - just had to brag, a little) I was confirmed in my conservativism.

But almost immediately, I was confronted with a new viewpoint... and that conservativism came under assault. Being the good little Catholic boy I was... and seeing as how I was feeling called to the priesthood... I got involved with my local church... and my pastor felt I would be an asset to the parish's Social Justice Committee.

Imagine, if you will, an arch-conservative, militaristic, and yes, arrogant Republican, joining the Social Justice Committee of a church located in (Gasp!) Berkeley, California! I was SO anathema! And I was on said committee with sociologists from UCB... And it was the height of the Nicaraguan conflicts and all the mess in El Salvador.

I was able to get my point across, and to do so in a positive and non-threatening way... I believe I enriched their perspectives... but I also began to feel the walls of my conservative reality trembling.

I can't, with confidence, point to all the various chips and cracks on that wall along the way, but sometime after 1994, those POLITICALLY conservative walls came tumbling down (there are of course, vestiges of those walls remaining...)

The RELIGIOUSLY conservative walls took a little longer to fall, but fall they have.

In fact, politically I feel the Democratic Party is a bit out-dated and far too conservative. And religiously, I don't really think there are many churches that "get it"... and I don't believe ANY denominations do. Though, some come closer than others.

For instance, I love my pastor deeply, and will follow her and her guidance because I believe she's "got it". But, on the whole, I don't really hold much stock in the position of Pastor... at least not as currently modeled in most churches... I really believe that we, as people of God, are the pastors, the leaders.

I also feel that the scriptural reference with which I started this blog entry today is a valid model for our churches activities, if not the true model.

By this, I mean that I believe worship is secondary to our church life. Social Action, Social Justice, Compassion, Fairness... these are the mission we as Christians need to be involved in. These are the actions that Jesus espoused.

Worship leads, if not tempered with copious quantities of Social Action, Social Justice, Compassion and Fairness, to religiosity. It wrongly focuses us on ourselves and doctrine, dogma and rules.

Yet, God calls us to focus on our sisters and brothers in need, in slavery, in subjugation to the basest of powers. Humility (not taking ourselves seriously but taking God seriously,) too, is a necessary ingredient.

Humble involvement in caring for God's children, God's CREATION, is the truest form of worship that I can conceive. I believe this to be true.

Guess I'm just a radical. So was Jesus. I hope I can be counted in that legacy.

If not for the courage of the faithful crew...

Somehow, I got thinking today about boats. Well, that's a bit overly broad. Specifically, I got to thinking about a particular boat, on a particular lake, with a particular cast of crewmen. More specifically, Matthew 14:22ff.

Not long ago, I read a book entitled, I think, "If you want to walk on the water, you have to get out of the boat". Long name, huh?

I was struck by this story, and what it says about people in general, not just the disciples.

There are 12 folks in what we suppose is a fishing boat. It's not a big boat. By all accounts, it likely not much more than a large row boat. These folks are far out from shore, probably in deep water, it's night time, so the shore isn't visible, perhaps not even lights from shore. The wind is blowing up ferociously, and the "tiny ship was tossed." (credits to Gilligan's Island).

I imagine most of the folks were getting sea sick, and were probably very frightened. All of a sudden, they see their teacher walking towards them on the surface of the water.

Peter, who will soon come to be known as the rock, has had enough of the waves and calls out "Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water."

And the teacher commanded "Come!"

So, in my mind, I see Peter bound out of the boat and start walking towards Jesus; then it hits him. "I can't do this! No one can walk on water!" He looks down, then he sinks like a stone. Only Jesus saves him, pulls him up and helps him into the boat.

For 2000 years, it seems like Peter comes out on the short end of the stick, here. All the homilies and sermons I have heard castigate Peter for taking his eyes off Jesus, for not having faith enough to walk to Jesus.

But there are 11 others, that's 92% of the crew, who were too scared to even try!

Let's look at it another way. This crew of 12 is in a boat at sea in a storm, the boat is tossed viciously in the wind and waves, in the middle of the night. One looks to Jesus, and says "Let me come to you." Ninety-two percent of the crew stays on the boat. They don't know what they may face. For all they know, the boat on which they are being tossed about may break up. Jesus is there, and only 8 percent have the presence of mind to seek him out.

What does that tell me? I'm thinking 100% of us face trials in our life that are too much for us, that have us afraid for our lives, and seem insurmountable. I'm thinking ninety-two percent of us don't ever bother looking to the one we believe we have faith in to rescue us... we don't seek out that one, we don't try to go to that one.

Ninety-two percent of us stay where we are, too frightened by the unknown to look... even to the less known... for help. We stay rooted in fear.

Eight percent of us do turn our eyes on the one and call out for help, wanting to go to that one. Notice Peter's request. It's not "Jesus, if that's you, come to us." He says "Command ME to come to YOU."

And even then, he's not perfect. He falters, even buoyed up by the one's command, he falters. Yet that one still reaches out and lifts him up.

In the end, that one also saves those who aren't calling, who fail to turn their eyes upon the one.

Says something interesting to me about people in general. And it says more to me about that compassionate One, One who works to save not only those who call for help... but those who don't.

A Blessed Weekend

I just realized that it has been nearly a week since I last wrote or posted to my blog. I wonder why that is.

It's been an eventful week.

First of all, my mom's surgery last Wednesday has come and gone, and proved to be quite anticlimactic. No tumor or cance was found. The surgery was brief, and mom was home by 3. I suspect my new-found hero, Marcus Borg, might disagree with me, but I believe that this lack of cancer was purely miraculous. It was there, now it's not.

I struggled through a boring Thursday and Friday, then Friday evening survived an attack by the killer house cat. Yes, you heard right. I have a major wound on my finger from where this killer chomped down... HARD. In his defense, it was a purely autonomic response caused by a seizure. He didn't mean to bite and cause me 48 hours of intense pain! He's forgiven... was forgiven the moment he released his bite. He never really NEEDED forgiveness!

Saturday, I spent the day preparing the ingredients for a rather large meal. And Sunday morning, I COOKED that rather large meal, feeding about 75 people breakfast... mostly homeless folk.

Now THAT was an experience. It was a GOOD experience. No, it was a GREAT experience. From the arrival at church at 7:15 a.m. until we left.

I had great assistants. Gary was there, and a newer member of our congregation, Michael. Karla got there soon after. And then James, one of the people we feed, showed up... and turned out to be great at cooking. Of course, Scott was there, too, working 5 times harder than I did.

We cooked 40 pounds of potatoes, 200 sausages, 12.5 dozen eggs, and 6 gallons of Orange Juice. And 3 pounds of onions.

But, really, the most awesome part was just to stand in the serving line and watch the reactions of 75 mostly homeless people, children and elderly alike. To plop 2 sausages on a plate and say "Goodmorning, sir (or ma'am)", and to see their smile, and hear their reply, "Thank you". To receive their applause and know that I made a difference that morning.

Is it wrong to say that? I'd have done it even if they didn't respond, but it seemed all that more special to know they appreciated it.

I guess it was that "Eric Camden" moment, needing, wanting to do something for someone else. And realizing that compassion is more than a feeling. It's an action compelled by gratitude.

But it was exhausting, too. I spent most of the remainder of Sunday passed out on the sofa, stirring only to do another load of laundry.

A new definition of a successful weekend to me: Feeling like, for once, I accomplished something of meaning.

It's a good feeilng.

On a new ethos

Beginning to write today is hard. I want to post something to my blog, but I’m not really sure what to say, or even where or how to begin.

For one thing, I’m already incredibly tired. It’s only 10:30 a.m. and I’ve been up nearly 8 hours already. Really, these early mornings are taking a toll on me, and I’m not sure how to fix it.

Life seems to be changing for me… Again. I discovered late last week that my mom has been diagnosed with cancer. Tomorrow, she’ll be having surgery, and the doctors are hoping to remove all of it. She’s upset, dad’s upset, and I’m a bit worried. This is a hard blow for them. About 4 years ago, it was learned that mom had heart problems, and they’re pretty serious. She’s on medication for them. Two years ago, mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. And now, this. Squamous Cell Carcinoma. If mom didn’t already have all these other issues, I’d likely not be too concerned yet, as according to various sites on the internet, this is very treatable, even if “aggressively malignant”.

Watched “7th Heaven”, last night. This program has become a soapbox for a whole list of societal ills. No episode goes by without some character lecturing on the woes of some issue or another. And sometimes their attempt to tug the heartstrings almost makes one physically ill. And yet, I watch it because it entertains, it’s clean, and remarkably, those little lessons in the plights of this or that group of people are interesting. Maybe not written all that well, or perhaps more to the point, not acted very well. That’s okay. Perhaps that’s the charm.

Last night’s episode was about the underfunded, overworked Children’s Social Services, the Foster Care programs, and the like. Once again, Eric Camden is trying to save the world; this time, it’s 3 orphaned children who can’t live together. At long last, Eric discovers that this is one problem there isn’t a quick fix for. And yet, the fix that he comes up with is fascinating.

What if an entire church community decided to be part of the solution? How novel! A Church community doing something besides filling the pews on Sunday for an hour or three? Okay, I know there are a lot that do just that, MORE that is. But I’m still left with a rather cynical view of the average church. I think the ones that do more are anything but average.

Which brings me to my goal. Marcus Borg, “Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time”. I’m picking up steam reading this one. Marcus has introduced me to a very interesting historical figure, Jesus. And I find myself really connecting to this view of Jesus. Can I sum up this view of Jesus in a line or two? No, Marcus’s view is far too complex for that; but I can sum up one part of who this Jesus is that I find so attractive. The Compassionate Jesus. “Be compassionate, as your Parent is compassionate”. Luke 6:36. Or, as other translations state “Be merciful, as your Parent is merciful”. (I’m providing the inclusive language here, not the translation.) Or, as The Message translates it: “Our Parent is kind; you be kind.” I like that one.

See, that just who Jesus is to me. He’s the teacher telling all those around him, “Hey, folks, God is a kind, compassionate God. You want to be close to God? Be like God. Be kind and compassionate.”

Borg sees Jesus as a “spirit person”, and as a teacher of wisdom, or sage. But he’s not about teaching conventional wisdom, the prevailing wisdom of the society around him. Jesus’s whole message was subversive, an alternative to the wisdom of Middle Eastern society of the 1st century.

It’s remarkable to see the gospels again through this filter of compassion… just about every thing we read in the synoptics is in someway a didactic of compassion.

And that’s what 7th Heaven seems to be about these days. Compassion. Eric seems just about bowled over by the powerful sense of compassion he feels. He can’t seem to really cope with this need to be kind and compassionate. He wants to help everyone and everything around him, and when he can’t his heart seems to break. He’s compelled to act; not by choice but by some seemingly inner force.

It’s a force that is far weaker in me; but I sense it, nonetheless.

Compassion. A politics of living, an ethos that seem so foreign, alien really, to the church of the 21st century. I hope I’m wrong.

SHEKINA

Wind,
strong and fierce,
the Breath of God.
Hear His voice cry out,
the wind in the trees.
Hear it crying,
sighing,
moaning in the trees.
Walk His trails.
Feel the strength of
His arms
the mountains.
Rest secure,
braced by cool,
fresh air.
Smell the breath of God,
soil, grass, pines.
Hear the song,
the shrill,
piercing,
cry of the hawk
the song of creation's praise,
rising with the winds,
soaring with the hawk,
the clouds joining
Nature's Song of Praise.
Join with her,
be one with Her.
One with God.

In like a, a, a GOOD thing, out like a, a, a BAD thing.

Over the past couple of months, this space has been generally reserved for my musings on spirituality, with only one side trip into frustration.

I've been relating to this space as a diary, or journal, but one that I willingly shared with any who wished to read. I've tried to open my soul to any who might be interested.

Today, that soul is darkened, saddened. I originally decided not to post today because of my inner gloom... But what good is a journal if it's not a reflection of who I am. Hard to open a window to my soul and then shutter it.

Gloom. Darkness. Despair. Well, gloom and darkness, anyhow. I'm not yet feeling the despair. Who knows? That may come.

This week started off well enough. In fact through yesterday evening, it was progressing along quite nicely. Then we hit the wall.

Well, let me back up just a little. This isn't quite true. The air got turbulent Wednesday afternoon. Kind of like a medium sized pothole on an otherwise smooth road. My visit with my doctor went well enough, and I'm healthy enough, overall, no really bad news. However, he did leave me with the knowledge that if I continue to experience certain symptoms, I may have to have a relatively small surgical procedure on my heart.

This didn't really bother me too much. It's really nothing overly serious, and I'm relatively confident that my medicine will take care of things. But it did make me think a little.

Then, that wall of last night. I got home, and there was a phone message from mom, asking that I call, wanting to know what I'd learned at the doctor's office the night before.

So, I called. Mom's response wasn't quite what I'd expected, a lot calmer than expected. She asked when she'd see me again, and I started to arrange our newly established "Tuesday Night Dinner". She interrupted me and said "Well, I can't keep this up any longer."

She then proceeded to tell me about HER visit to the doctor on Wednesday. She's been diagnosed with "Squamous Cell Carcinoma". Upon reading up on this on the internet, I discover that it is an "aggressively malignant" form of skin cancer that can easily metastasize to inner organs and can be fatal. I also learned that it is relatively easy to treat.

Well, I was okay with this news. Sorry for my dad, whom I know is suffering from this news. Sorry for mom, because, along with her Alzheimer's this is the last thing she needs to have to worry about. But, I felt calm, at peace, knowing that this, too, is in God's hands.

Then, I got to work this morning. Shortly after arriving, and going through my office email, I checked my personal email.

My friend, David, is pastor of a church in Mexico. His partner, Alberto, who suffers from epilepsy, was admitted to the hospital in serious condition earlier this week. This morning's emails informed me that this marvelous young man died yesterday from, presumably, complications from the pneumonia, which in turn was the result of the epilepsy.

And now, I'm feeling gloomy and in a rather dark mood. But, I don't despair. I'm not mouthing platitudes (or, rather, typing them) I'm sincerely not feeling despair over either my mother's cancer OR David's loss of his partner. I do, however, feel remarkably sad. Sad for David. Sad for the loss of Alberto. Sad for my dad. Sad for Mom. Sad for me.

For me it's not a matter of "Life isn't fair," as a very dear friend mentioned. Life ISN'T fair. That's a fact of life. I don't expect anything in life to be fair. I'd be shocked if it were! It's really a matter of dawning awareness. Life isn't only not fair, life is a terminal illness. In the death of a friend, the life threatening condition of my mother, I see my own impermanence. The end of the road is ahead of me. It might be around the corner, or it may be many miles yet. But it's there, and for a fleeting moment, that realization has been crystallized in my consciousness.

Good start, lousy end to this week. And that's the way of life.

Wanna Dance?

Aurelius (he of snorting fame) used to refer to Liturgy as dance. Nothing should interfere with the Liturgical Dance, he held. Effort must be taken to minimize unnecessary movement. For several years after I left, I strove to encourage this attitude in the church I attend. Finally, I came to realize that we are not a liturgical community. So what if our liturgical dance resembles more a free-for-all than a finely choreographed music hall piece!

Liturgy isn't all that's a dance.

Prayer this morning was going along quite nicely, thank you, until I uttered a phrase that made me stop and think.

"I don't want to dance anymore."

What the hell did that mean, I wondered. Which dance was I tired of?

It's the dance that I do with the Spirit. It's my entire relationship with that Divine Other that has come to be embodied by dance. The movements are finely choreographed. Some cosmic Choreographer has set before me a set of pre-determined steps the flow of which leads inexorably to... Well, that's the problem, what does it lead to.

Ever been to a gay bar, recently? Or watched scenes from Queer as Folk? You know the dance there? Those dances, too, are finely choreographed... though never taught. The rhythm of the music itself teaches the participants the steps; the bodies flow and undulate to the mystic, primal beat.

That music, that dance, as often as not is foreplay. It heats the blood, drives the heart, exercises that part of our mind responsible for the flow of testosterone... I digress.

The spiritual dance of my spirit with The Spirit is like that... It flows to the mysterious beat of the love song sung by that Divine Other. And I want out. Out of the dance.

I want into the bed. I’m tired of the foreplay, I want to immerse myself in that beat, feel the spiritual blood surge against me, hear the pounding of the Other Heart. I want to engage fully in the undulating, primal surge of Spirit love.

"No," my Partner whispers. "You don’t get it."

And it dawns on me.

The dance... It IS the bed.
The dance... It ISN'T foreplay.
The dance... It IS the flow of the love song sung since the dawn of time, coursing through my veins, drawing me to that center place. That Center Place. It’s the beat, that spiritual blood surging, the Other Heart pounding against me. That Other Love entering me, taking me, possessing me... filling me.

The Dance is Life.
The Dance is Unity with Other.

Now is.

Then can’t be until I see it, feel it, sense it, know it as Now.

I need a cigarette.

Rated.... X?

This week seems to be off to a much better start. Except, this morning, the coffee machine was broken. That's a bad thing... got the jitters! But, it's fixed, so all's well, that ends well!

I just posted a facetious response to another blog. The question was posed "If Jesus was shopping at Amazon.com, what would he buy ('WWJB')" My response was that he'd most certainly buy "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" and "The Gay Man's Kama Sutra."

Okay, maybe he wouldn't buy the "Gay Man's Kama Sutra", but I bet he'd buy some edition of the Kama Sutra.

Some years ago, I became interested in the relationship between spirituality and sexuality. Our society has retained such an odd mix of the old Puritanical revulsion for the latter. Sex sells everything these days, and yet, as a society [America] we have completely divorced it from our view of humanity.

We tend to think of the elements of personal well-being, for example, as being "Emotional", "Mental", "Physical", "Spiritual"... and the like. Seldom do we read a list of human attributes that stipulates the Sexual nature. If we do consider the sexual, we think of it as part of the Physical. I think that's invalid. (Oh, and by the way, I am quite aware that when I speak of "we" in this regard, there are many who ARE aware of the sexual.)

My first realization of this elemental part of my being didn't come to my until well into my life. In fact, it's really only started developing in the past 3 years or so.

But it really hit home one sunny, lazy Saturday afternoon. I had a spiritual experience. My partner and I were engage in slowly, passionately making love when I became aware of that Divine Other present with us. I knew Love at that moment.

I've frequently experienced that Other's Love and presence in the ensuing years.

We are not merely physical or spiritual beings... we are sexual beings, and our sexuality is given us to celebrate our life. Rather than hiding from this, we need to embrace our sexuality. I don't mean promiscuity, though I don't judge that, either. We need to live true to ourselves, physically, emotionally... sexually.

In the beginning, God created... and saw that it was good. It wasn't humanity's nakedness that created the rift. It was humanity's turning from God and allowing externals to come between themselves and God... between humanity and Creation.

!Snort!

So. There!

Et tu, Brute?

What a crummy week.

TGIF doesn't even begin to express how I feel about today being Friday... And yet, that fact doesn't inspire any real hope, today. I just get to spend a weekend dealing with more of the "same old same old".

I haven't really had much time to write this week, which is too bad, because I've got a couple of different topics bouncing around my intracranial block.

Two come to mind... one, Rage, I'll have to deal with later. Today, a good topic seems to be BETRAYAL.

Because, while on Tuesday my overriding emotional balance was interfered with by a recurring bout with rage, today, my universe is rocked by the realization of betrayal.

Until very recently, I assumed that the people I served on a board of directors with were a team, a cohesive unit dedicated to one thing... service to our organization. I trusted them.

It is a shock to come to the conclusion that I am so utterly naive.

At a meeting this week, 5 of us were present. A decision was reached that a certain situation would be dealt with in a particular way, a way that was pastoral and appropriate... or rather, the person in charge indicated she would deal with said situation in a particular manner, and no one expressed disagreement with that approach.

And yet, one of those five individuals felt it incumbent upon them to run off and, for all intents and purposes, go behind the backs of the board and deal with the situation in a totally different manner... one that was both UNPASTORAL and INAPPROPRIATE.

Of the five, I know which three did NOT do it. That leaves two, one of whom I consider a dear friend, and the other whom I like very much.

I am so hurt and disgusted by this that I don't even know what further to say.

I will be so glad when my office expires in one month.

Funny, betrayal leads directly to that other topic, RAGE. I guess I won't go into that.

God is my Copilot

Friday I went flying.

It was my first experience flying (as a passenger) in a small plane. The opportunity arose at almost the last minute. I certainly hadn't expected when I got up Friday morning that by noon I'd be in the air.

Friday was a chilly day, relatively strong winds (20 mph) with gusts to 35 mph. I don't like turbulence when I'm in a jet... so, I was a bit concerned prior to takeoff. Sure enough, as our little plane plunged into the sky, things got rough. I grabbed hold of the bottom of my chair, and the back of the pilot's seat, holding on for dear life... but after a few minutes, I was able to calm down enough to enjoy the experience.

At one point in our flight, we approached a sizeable airport runway at a 90 degree angle, then banked left and nosed down to align with the runway. For a brief moment, it felt as though we hung, motionless in the sky.

The key to this is trust. As my stomach churned through that first rough few minutes, I had to rely on the laws of aerodynamics, trusting that those wouldn't change! I also had to trust in my pilot's skills. Surely he wouldn't have taken me up if he wasn't confident in his ability to manage the plane!

I think life is like that. I've seen a few bumper-stickers that read "God is my co-pilot". I've always silently nodded to that thought. After this flight, I was inclined to write that God shouldn't be our copilot, but rather our pilot.

But more reflection has shown me a lot about that. In a way, God IS our pilot... but God is also our copilot. Perhaps, the best comparison is between that of a rookie pilot, learning how to fly, still striving to earn his pilot's license, who is partnered with a far more experienced copilot/instructor.

A copilot can only fly the plane if the pilot relinquishes the controls. In the case of a rookie or student pilot, when conditions become far too extreme for the limited experience of the pilot, the wise thing to do is to relinquish control to the far more experienced pilot. And yet, the rookie always has the right by virtue of the law and tradition, to resume command of the plane at any time.

From my perspective, our daily journey is a lot like that situation. When life is easy, it's fun to fly solo. But at times, life's experiences can get out of hand. Turbulence becomes unbearable, and it seems like our life is going to come crashing down about us... it's normal to seek out the smallest things that we can control. By doing so we hope to gain control of the larger picture. But in times like that, it's good to surrender control to our COPILOT. God is ready to help through those times, but is always ready to give us control back when we want.

To paraphrase scripture, "But for me and my plane, we're turning it over to the copilot!"

!snort!

So. There!

On Definitions

Spirituality; Faith; That's what my blog has pretty much taken on as a focus. It's what I dwell on, where my thoughts lead me inexorably day by day.

Religion. It's part of that issue of spirituality and faith. But it's not synonymous. For me, and I highly doubt this is unique or original to me, Religion is the cultic manifestation of a belief system, comprised of the rites and practices associated with a particular set of beliefs, dogma and doctrine. In my view, religion is organizational, comprising a plurality; it's corporate practice that may or may not be rooted in actual belief so much as a desire to belong to something meant to give meaning.

Spirituality, on the other hand, while not excluding the organization or plurality, is concerned with things of the spirit that may or may not involve rite, practice, dogma and doctrine. While belief is not an essential element of religion, it is essential to spirituality. Spirituality is relational to Other. It's how we each, as individuals, relate to that Divine Other.

For many, religion and spirituality are exclusive of each other... or seem to be.

In the USA, we've spent 3 years reeling from an act of violence that, at first, united us like we've seldom been united before, but has ultimately led to great disunion. It was perpetrated by a group of individuals who aligned themselves with a group that proclaims itself to be supportive of a particular religion; indeed they view themselves as perveyors of the truth of that religion.

We Americans buy into this, and thus proclaim that the religion in question is evil, that it is a religion of hate and violence. Educated people of faith from that religion, however, deny these claims, proclaiming their faith to be one of peace, one that we westerners don't understand. Yet, each day more and more acts of violence are performed in the name of said religion, reinforcing for us in the USA the belief that it is the terrorists behind the acts that are the true spokesmen for that religion.

Those of us who are Christian see ourselves as people of peace, that peace is one of the central points our Jesus tried to get across. Yet, people in the mideast who hold to another religion have experienced the vicissitudes of war and oppression that those of nominally Christian background have visited upon them. Around the world, many look at Christianity, and are reminded of forced conversions, and enslavement by Christians. From outside, I suspect, an observer can look at both of these religions and draw the conclusion that neither are religions of peace; both are equally violent, with long histories of killing and acts of inhumanity.

Religions really serve best as focal points for individuals. It is the private spiritual lives of the citizens of this world that matter. I've known muslims who were kind, loving, peaceful people. I know Christians who are the same. I've known, or known of, folks of both religions who are hateful, angry, bitter and vengeful. But when we take the time to get to know each other, and look at how individuals relate to that Infinite, Divine Other, we're all much more alike than we realize. All this can be said of all world religions, I suppose, Buddhist, Hindu, Jew, and a host of others I can't recall to name at this point.

All of us are in process of becoming. Some have chosen a road or path towards becoming kind, loving, peaceful folk striving to live at peace with the world around them; others have chosen a road or path towards lashing out at those who do not hold to their own beliefs, or whom they perceive to have wronged them.

In the long run, I suppose, it's not going to be how I practiced the rites of my religion, but how I interacted with that Divine Other, and the world about me. Can I stand apart from myself and perceive one who has tried to walk with integrity a life pursuing union with Divine Other, or will I see a bitter, angry, and spiteful person who demands of others that which I don't generally live myself?

!snort!

So. There!

Process or Product

Another day, another mile along the journey. Another panel on the window of my life.

I was contemplating this journey this morning on my drive into work. To be a bit more specific, I was considering what I think God expects of us.

It began, really as I lamented that my walk was less than perfect... that I found it too easy to forget to communicate with that Divine Presence in us all. Days go by, sometimes, when I neglect my spirit.

It seems the Christian life as espoused by my childhood church, and most Christian churches, for that matter, spend far too much effort focused on that. Perfection. Perfection is the ideal. It's what is held up to us. My childhood churches has it's saints which are held up to us as examples of what we should strive for.

Posh! Perfection is not possible. Those saints were not perfect. They were ultimately just as flawed as am I or anyone who might stumble upon this blog. It's not the result that matters. In the great scheme of things, from a spiritual perspective, it's not the result that matters to the Divine Presence, and it's not the result that matters to me.

When it comes to spirituality, not religion, mind you, but spirituality... when it comes to the journey with Divinity that I seek, the result is merely the effort. Process. Our journey, our spiritual actualization, is process, not attainment or destination.

The real sin isn't to be imperfect or even to fail to strive to attain perfection. The sin is to not enter into the process.

My friend today told me she's trying to "focus on finding out who I am, defining me... because I don't know who I am." She's decided to enter the process. Because, I believe that ultimately, it's that quest to "find out who I am, define myself" that IS spirituality, it is process. It's participating in the journey to the Divine Presence, the Other Within.

Reflecting on her comments it comes to me that most of humanity spends a good share of our existence not only not knowing who we are, but also not even trying to find out... or for that matter most are unaware that there is something TO find out.

So, once more, l dive in to this process of seeking that Inner Other that is my destiny. Care to join me?

!Snort!

So! There!

Lifting the Fog

Wednesday, I met with my pastor about some church business. As we were wrapping up, I brought up my issues with Spong. During the course of our discussion, she told me she thought Marcus Borg's writings on God and Jesus might help me understand Spong better.

Both of us agree that Spong has focused much more on his deconstruction of a theistic God without reconstructing who/what God in actuality is for him. It's not difficult in reading Spong to realize he has a deep love for, and spirituality rooted in, God; But his works, at least those read by us, haven't given us what we need to comprehend his view of God in a Post-Christian milieu.

Anyhow, I left that meeting determined to pick up Borg once I've struggled through the Spong work I'm currently reading ("Why Christianity must Change or Die")

Thursday morning, as I drove to work, I prayed about the spiritual dilemma my study has brought me to. It was one of my better prayer experiences of the past few weeks.

Then, yesterday at noon, I met with my Spiritual Director. In no time at all, we were embroiled in discussion about this dilemma, and about Spong. Once again, that name came up: "Read Marcus Borg", Don instructed me. "He's much more focused on a spiritual re-creation of the Divine."

We left, having determined the best course for my next few weeks would be to put Spong aside, and read Borg's "Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time."

So, I dashed off to my favorite bookstore here in Omaha "Soul Desires". Yes, I was informed, they did have 3 copies in stock. But, they were nowhere to be found. Seems one of the owners had taken the entire Stock to some conference.

Man. I wanted that book, and I wanted it THEN. The other owner convinced me NOT to rush off to Borders but to wait until Monday... promising me I could borrow her copy (hopefully tonight). In the meantime, I picked up another Borg book... "A Portrait of Jesus". Thing is, I'm sometimes a bit too focused for my own good... I WANT MEETING JESUS AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I WANT IT NOW! :D

In other news, met with the doctor yesterday. I'm having recurring chest pains again. We're going to do some tests and increase the Beta-Blocker I'm on. Probably more nothing!

On another note... years ago in my seminary days, I had a professor, Aurelius, who had a humorous habit of snorting through his nose... a sound totally unrepresentable in writing. He'd end his classes with that snort, followed by "So There!". Gave us all something to chuckle about, and no end of fuel for good hearted mocking in our private moments.

Well, that's about it.

!snort!

So! There!

Mental Blackhole

It's been a slow week. Really, I seem to be devoid of thoughts... like an automaton, I proceed about my life either dully performing necessary tasks, or drifting off into some pointless, mind-numbing exercise in fantasy.

So, I guess that's not totally devoid of thought, but it is of any thought worthwhile to be written down.

I think part of this is because I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into some dark night of spirituality.

I recently took up an interest in reading Bishop Spong's "Why Christianity must Change or Die". His thesis is challenging me immensely. It has called into question my entire faith structure and theology. I haven't fully comprehended his understanding of who/what God is, yet he successfully called into question my own view of who/what God is. I find myself on scary, and shaky, ground. And I'm totally confused as to his christology.

Jesus to me has been at once, through the years, companion, friend, brother, savior, master, and most recently I've come to relate to Jesus as "lover." As hard as it may be for some to conceive of this, I've found some of my deepest moments of communion with the Divine Presence to be when I am enfolded in my earthly lover's arms, approaching that ecstatic moment of release...

But, if I permit Spong to de-deify the Jesus of History, then what does that do to my theology, my christology, my entire understanding of that Divine Presence. How long will it take me to process all that needs processing to reconcile my faith with this new picture of Divinity? Gracious, it's scary!

I began this walk into such uncertain territories last summer... 2003, that is, when I opened my mind enough to listen to a presentation of the concept of Original Blessing as outlined by Matthew Fox. Roughly and poorly summarized, the point of this is that God created all things and blessed them. Far from humanity being conceived in/through original sin as espoused by much of mainstream Christianity, Fox challenges us to accept that all things are created in/through Original Blessing. I think once I get my mind wrapped around Spong, I need to revisit this concept. Because, as I understand it, I have little problem wrapping my mind around this concept. Original Sin as a doctrine is an ugly doctrine... albeit seemingly necessary for an understanding of current Christology.

The other thing that brought me into contact with Bishop Spong was this doxological formula:

"I experience God as that which is beyond all human categories, the Infinite Other. That is what Christians call the "Father and Almighty Creator." I experience God as Depth within, closer than my breath. That is what Christians call the Holy Spirit. Lastly, I experience God as a reality flowing through human lives and, for me, uniquely present in the life of Jesus. That is what Christians call 'The Son'..."

This one resonates with me.

When I came to MCC Omaha, I was confronted with the UFMCC policy of "inclusification". I stopped hearing references to God as Father only, but also as Mother, as Parent, and a plethora of other images. It caused me to confront my understanding... I always knew "Father" to be metaphorical, that God is spirit, and thus Father was too limiting for the Divine Presence. But I continued on with that way of thinking. I still do... when it suits me, when it doesn't Mother often works, as does Parent. But when I truly consider this parent, I realize how limiting any of these images... ALL of these images... really is.

We used to say "God is no gender, thus we can't call God 'Father' or 'Him'... or Mother, for that matter." Yet that is so limiting in itself. God I think is ALL gender, perfect gender. God is the synergistic totality of both genders... God is more than both female and male... God is totally all. I'm not sure I know how to take it beyond that.

So. There!

In defense of being smart(er than I)

Driving in to work this morning, I listened to some evangelist railing against the intelligentsia and scholarship.

Huh, I scratched my head.

Isn't it amazing that of all people, Christian evangelists would object to scholarship and "the intelligentsia". I know there are those out there that would say that it is totally believable, after all, if someone professes Christianity, they've already demonstrated a lack of intelligence.

I won't argue one way or the other with the latter.

My beef is with that evangelist and his ilk.

The one thing that sets humanity above the animals is precisely it's intellect (though, some may argue otherwise... namely that nothing sets us apart from the animals.)

We, as Christian, believe that God created us. In fact, we believe that "God created humanity in God's own image..." The Psalmist is astounded that "For You have made [humanity] a little lower than the angels"... btw, other texts actually say "You have made [humanity] little lower than God."

My point is this: for all the time humanity has been on this planet, our goal has been the pursuit of knowledge. If God did not wish us using our intellect, the intellect that God gave us in the first place, then why give it? Why not make us slaves to our instincts, rummaging in the fields and running down prey?

Actually, there is humor in this for me. Because the anti-intellectualism espoused by this evangelist really plays right in to the hands of those who WOULD reduce humans to the status of animals, depriving us of personal responsibility and forgiving all our actions, all our faults by merely blaming it on our culture or our environment.

Humanity is meant to rise above our environment. It's the whole point of the Creation stories that humanity is meant to rule the environment, not be ruled by it.

Only by conscious decision not to cave in to the influences of environment can we hope to progress.

Nor do I deny that environment plays a role in our development; I merely believe that we can't fall back on our environment as a sop for our own failings.

Musings on Proslogium

"Thou wast not, then, yesterday, nor wilt thou be tomorrow; but yesterday and today and tomorrow thou art; or, rather, neither yesterday nor today nor tomorrow thou art; but simply, thou art, outside all time. For yesterday and today and tomorrow have no existence, except in time; but thou, although nothing exists without thee, nevertheless dost not exist in space or time, but all things exist in thee. For nothing contains thee, but thou containest all." Proslogium, Ch. XIX, Anselm of Canterbury.

I have often come back to these words of Anselm over the past decade. Much of his writing really was of little interest to me, but this has stuck in my mind. It is true, Anselm's philosophical proof for God's existence has been easily refuted. These words, however, have been a jumping off point for much of my own philosophy and theology.

What Anselm is saying is quite easy, once you wrap yourself around the antiquated prose. To start, the following must be understood:

1. To be contained by something is to be limited by that thing.
1a. To exist in time is to be contained in time.

2. God is unlimitable.

3. The unlimitable God, therefore, cannot be contained by time.

In addition, Anselm takes for granted that while God is contained by nothing, all things are contained by God. Thus, time is contained by God.

So, to unwrap the opening paragraph, since God is not contained by time, but rather contains all, and thus time, God is outside of time (and thus space.) Therefore, God merely IS. It cannot be said of God that God Was or God Will be. God IS. All things that have ever happened in the past, all that will happen in the future, all these are now to God.

In this understanding then, when we speak of Jesus Christ's Incarnation, that incarnation is simply God, the Son of God, stepping out of the eternal now of God into time and space. For a time, God exists in time and space.

And so, it is possible for humanity to participate with God in the eternal now because as we experience those element's of Jesus life, death and resurrection through worship and prayer, we step out of time and space into the presence which is God. We encounter the eternal now of Jesus when we read of his life, and put ourself into the present of the story.

So, when I contemplate what the Christian cults call Eucharist, that Last Supper of which Jesus partook, when I too partake of Eucharist, I am not doing in memory of him, but rather participating in the now of his gift.

And the journey forks...

I've spent some time today browsing through other blogs. It's been a humbling experience. In fact, I just finished reading one blog from the beginning of September up to today's post, and am in utter awe of the young man who wrote it. I wish I had the talent he has for self-expression. Here was a young man, gay, Native American, with a true gift that I hope to be able to share for a long time to come.

*****

Past week has been a harsh one for me. I've spent the past 7 months preparing for this week, as Excel gathered for it's annual All Team Gathering. There were all the logistics of preparing for the event. And there was the reality the event would be one of those life-changing moments.

I've served Excel on it's Executive Committee since September 1999. For the first three years, I chaired the body, and then for another year and a half served as Clerk. These past 6 months, I was a member-at-large. Now, I am no longer in service in this way. I was so looking forward to this time being over.

I wasn't expecting the hole it's left! I didn't expect the let down. I have another one ahead... Board of Directors for MCC-O.... I'll be stepping down in just two months.

I viewed my service to Excel as a ministry... we all do. I believe I gave a great deal to that Ministry, and I believe I did it well. There were things I could have done better. I'm sure others would argue that my service was average at best. They may think what they will.

As I approach these next two months, I realize that when that day arrives, and I step down life will take a new direction. I suspect that will leave as deep a sense of loss as this week's. And, I'll be free of the responsibilities that I've carried. Oh-so-minor compared to many people in this world... but these two bodies have been my life for these past 4 - 5 years!

Life after MCC-O-BOD.... what will it look like? I don't know. I honestly wonder if I can truly have no role in life. I want to just step back and wait for that voice to speak to me again... to guide me into the next ministry.

Perhaps it already has. We have a Weekend Exercise to plan and put on in 2005. That's going to take much of the first half of the year.

Then, I really am feeling a strong sense that I need to take the lead in taking an Excel weekend to Australia... and will shoot for 2006 for that.

It's going to be an exciting time, if that really is what I decide to do.

More Questing...

That bible study the other night has been a fruitful source of contemplation for me these past few days.

"If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, pray, seek my face, and turn..."

It's that "Seek my face" that has gotten my attention. It's part of that Prayer Quest that we are called to join in. See, Moses asked to see God's face, yet he was denied, and permitted only to see where God had gone before.. well, okay, specifically scripture says he was permitted only to see God's backside.

I really believe that what we seek means that merely seeing God's passing backside is insufficient. We need to truly be in God's presence. That means we can only be satisfied by seeing the face of God.

And now for the real me...

What is Prayer?

This was the question asked in our weekly Bible Study this week. The answers given were the ones I'd expect. Conversation with God; Listening; Communicating with God. All good answers, demonstrating to me, at least, that most there had a good understanding of prayer.

I held back, not wanting to have to explain the answer that was bouncing off the padded walls of my mind. "Melding with the mind of God." Frankly, I wasn't sure what that meant anymore than the others would. It just shouted itself out to me the second I heard the question. I ended up offering that prayer was "a quest for God."

That answer too, while I have a much better comprehension of it's meaning, was vague and I'm glad I wasn't asked to explore it more intensely. The scripture we read seemed to reinforce that.
But I kept coming back to "melding with the mind of God."

I brought it up again yesterday in spiritual direction. Because, as I toyed with the phrase in my mind Wednesday and yesterday, I developed a distinction between MELDING and MERGING. I couldn't explain it. But I had an inkling that there WAS a difference, and I was attempting to express that.

So, I did a simple dictionary search; I wasn't too impressed with the outcome.

Some word paths I took in my quest, though, go like this.

When I tried to substitute Merge for Meld, I pictured a super-highway. Cars merge in from other highways, or from one lane to another. Later, those cars DIVERGE into other lanes, other highways. That sort of expresses my thoughts on prayer... but not really. When the car diverges from the super-highway onto another highway, nothing of the super-highway remains for that car. That's not prayer.

Meld worked better... but I couldn't really define that... I, being a bit of a Trekkie, kept thinking in terms of "the Vulcan Mind Meld". 'Cept, I'm not such a Trekkie that I can recite precisely what that is other than Vulcans could read other sentient minds. It's hard to put this into the language of prayer for me.

You see, what I'm trying to express is that prayer is a process of coming into a deep and personal experience of the mind of God. While we can never KNOW the mind of God, there's a sense in which we should be seeking to come to know, as much as possible, the Divine Presence.

So, I checked out Miriam Webster. The verb "meld" that I want gave me a lame definition of "blend of melt and weld". Oh, now THAT'S helpful. But, it gave two synonyms.... MERGE and BLEND. Obviously I knew MERGE wouldn't work. But BLEND hit's the spot for me..."To combine or associate so that the separate constituents or the line of demarcation cannot be distinguished".

Now you know what I mean... right? ;-}

Again, I don't really believe that degree of mixing is possible between my mind (or anyone else's) and God's mind.

But I believe that's the goal. To enter into the Divine Presence so thoroughly that my mind and that of God's begins to lose it's demarcation. Death for me brings the final opportunity to do that, and do it perfectly. We either do at death succeed in this melding or we are forever separated from God. And in the end, at that moment this final perfect melding is to occur, it's nothing I do or have done that permits it but merely and utterly, the Will of God... the Mind of God which permits or refuses.

In the meantime, we search and seek to find the way that we can best meld with God. And each and every separation from that search, from that prayer, should leave us with some little bit of Divinity intact. When I break off prayer, I should do so acutely aware that some of the meld doesn't break, that some addition to my being has occurred. I must leave prayer, changed.

Oddly enough, however, this does occur. And it's a mini death process. First, I mean this in the sense that no degree of melding occurs unless the Divine Presence wills and invites it to occur. I can seek all I want, but I will not find unless willed/permitted to do so by the One Whom I Seek.

So, when we are not melding with the Mind of God in Prayer, our Prayer is a Quest for the Mind of God. I see, now, that these are two parts of the same process, the same act, known as prayer.

Some Preliminary Thoughts...

before proceeding.

First of all, on lost/forgotten logins mentioned in the previous post. Now, this makes me feel old. After 3 months unable to remember my login/password for this site, I tried out a combination, and it worked. What's odd about that? It's the same friggin' login/password I use for 90% of my other locations. Just never tried it here. I dunno. Makes me feel so senile. old.

Secondly, I don't know who I'm trying to fool by that previous post. I guess I want to feel like I could, if I wanted, fit into the world of the young gay men from Minneapolis I've been reading.

I can't. I'm not old, but I'm certainly older than they; they live a life, that is different than the one I chose for myself. And the one I'm really happy with. They live in a world of "things to do" and "excitement". I chose to live a nice, quiet life, in a nice, quiet relationship, in a nice, quiet house that I own, in a nice, quiet neighborhood, in a nice, quiet town, in a nice, quiet state, deep in the heartland of the USA.

And there's nothing wrong with that. Just don't fault me from watching the younger folk living, what I imagine to be, a more exciting life in a more interesting city... even though it's like watching life through a television screen... and yearning in some secret place, that I could live that life.

Badly named, perhaps?

Sigh. For one who styles oneself "One Who Writes" I've fallen a little short. Perhaps I should have styled myself "One who fails to write". Actually, I kind of forgot my login and password for a while. Comes from failing to write!

So what's going on? I've been reading a lot of interesting blogs. Especially from a few guys up in Minneapolis. Sounds like life up there is fun! Guess if you like the cold, that is... ;}

Can't believe how busy things are right now. Though I have to say, after reading Smitty's blogs about hunting for a new place to live I should be thankful that's nowhere near on my horizon! Taking care of the house I'm in is enough. My cats and dogs would hate to be put in so much turmoil.

In fact, I must say, after reading so many other peoples' blogs that my life is really pretty boring... busy as it is! Oh, well, they're all young and I'm not. I guess that's one of the few perks of being young.... having an exciting life. Ah, to be young and gay again.... instead of old and gay. :-}

Nope, no new church... too much effort.

Yeah, ok. I've munched on that previous post for nearly a week, and it's pretty obvious I'm full of it.

"I don't consider myself a Christian..." "I profess faith in Jesus..."

What is that?!?! Mindless intellectualizing, I guess. Sigh. Yeah, so it's pretty obvious to me I'm a Christian... no matter what I may choose to call it.

I think what I was really trying to say is that there's this dichotomy between my BEING a Christian, and the fact that every time I hear someone ELSE self identify as a Christian, I tense up... I go on high alert, the adrenalin flows. Their self-actualization irritates me.

Huh? They piss me off. What can I say?

You see the reality is I KNOW I'm a Christian. I know what I believe, and in Whom I have an overriding trust.

But I'm used to being told by all those self-identifying Christians out there that I am NOT one. That I'm going to hell. I suspect if that is true, I'll have good company because they will all be there with me.

Then one day, long before I wrote last week's blog, I ran into a Christian... one I've known a long, long time. Actually, I ran into two of them... my brothers.

We were in Puerto Vallarta on a big family outing. Outing. Huh, a good term for that week.

I'm gay. I went to PV with my partner of 8 years, my parents, my brothers and their wives, and my aunt and uncle. My brothers don't know I'm gay.

So there we are, 5 couples enjoying the fun and the sun. My uncle went missing (he's blind.) After locating him, everyone headed off to breakfast but Big Brother # 1 takes me aside.

"Okay, Eric, I've tried for 7 years to get you to let me share your life with you. So when are you going to tell me you're gay?"

Was that a pin dropping I heard 2 miles away?

"Uh, BB#1, I'm gay."

"It's not like I didn't know, One Who Writes. I figured it out in 96."

That's the year I gave up my lifelong dream so that I could live with the man I love.

We talked. It didn't bother him. Didn't offend his sense of Christian morality. Recognized that I devoted great hours to working in the vineyards, so to speak. He told me I had to tell my other brother, Big Brother # 2.

Now, that terrifies me. I've had a sense that if anyone would be able to accept, it'd be BB#1. But BB#2... he's that breed of Christian that sends the blood of gay men cold. A fundamental evangelical... or at least that's how I cubbyhole him.

I'm gay. I KNOW categorizing people is bad. I do it anyhow... do you?

I suck it up, take BB#2 for a walk. And we walk and we talk... and we talk and we walk... we get about as far up the beach as we can, and it's time to turn back. Finally, I broach the subject.

"BB#2, BB#1 told me I have to talk with you, tell you something"

"He did, huh." Now listen folks, I KNOW, and he knows, and what's more he KNOWS I KNOW that he knows what this is all about. Ain't gonna make it easy for me though.

Well, let's make this short. I told him I was gay. He didn't bat an eye. The world didn't end. No peals of lightening charred him or me, for that matter. He was okay with it.

"What matters in the end is, your personal relationship with Jesus." Well, I have that. And I think BB#2 knows I have that.

For the next 3 days, BB#1&2 along with their wives started treating SO and I differently... in a good way. Well, really, they treated him differently... like he belonged. Like he was part of a family.

And so now, we're a big family again. And the trepidation I felt towards BB#1&2 is gone. I look forward to seeing them again.

And ya know. Maybe, Christians aren't so bad, after all.

;D

A New Church?

Well, it seems to me that I created this blog for the purpose of me writing about things that are important to me. Like me. Or my other favorite topic... me. :D Seriously, though, me is not that important a topic.

One of the things that IS important to me, however, is religion. Spirituality, really. Religion is a bit of a downer for me.

By that, really, I just mean that it is personal relationship to Divinity that is important to me, not adherence to a set of rules and regulations pertaining to aspects of my life and established by some "church" whether or not that church believes those rules and regulations to be imposed or directed by the Divine.

So, having said that, I was driving to work the other day, as I'm wont to do, thinking of all sorts of things. It dawned on me, all of a sudden. I don't consider myself to be a Christian.

Well, some of you may be thinking, like, "who cares. what's the big deal?"

There is no big deal, really. I started life as a Roman Catholic. Until I was 38, I was an especially devout RC. I even was studying to be a priest. After leaving that pursuit, my relationships led me towards other denominations, and so I left the world of the RC behind, but not that of Christianity.

To this day, I am very active in a Christian church... but suddenly it dawns on my that I'm not Christian. Part of me thinks I may never have been one.

I profess faith in Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. Beyond faith, I KNOW He lives. We talk daily, sometimes in great depth, at others well, being the air-headed blond mortal that I am, it's not always that deep "Uh, hi. It's me."

Hey! Writer! Just one moment here! You just said you aren't a Christian! Yet you just said you profess a knowledge/faith in Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. Sounds like that's a Christian to me!

True. It's all part of that "I'm spiritual, not religious" argument. I cringe when people tell me they're Christian. That interprets as "I have the right way. If you don't believe what I believe the way I believe it then you can't possibly be a Christian." There's no room in the myopic christian mind for any other perspective.

Of course, there's that other kind of christian. You know the kind. the kind that you wouldn't have a clue they were christian if it wasn't for the fact they identify themselves that way, sometimes, and you've seen them once at a church somewhere.

Actually, I can identify with that last group, even while strongly disagreeing with them. 'Cause what I don't know is what's in their hearts. Sure. They may swear like a sailor (sorry all you sea-farers out there... it's a phrase) but then, hey, so do I!

Really, if I'm going to waste my efforts judging the faulty christianity of others, I'd much rather waste it on those who profess their christianity in such strong and strident manner, and who deny those who disagree with them their self-identity.

Now, see, personally, and I may be wrong here, but personally, I think Jesus was referring to them when he uttered that marvelous epithet "You snakes, you brood of VIPERS!" "Woe to you, , teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!"

I know, I probably fit into that category myself. It's hard not to, really!

No, I'm not a Christian. I'm a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. And I'd like to think that somehow, that makes me different than those I decry.

I know lots of fellow believers... many of whom also may be Christians.

Maybe we should form a new group... a church, perhaps?

First Post

Well, okay, now that I've created this blogspot, I figgered I best post to it... otherwise it'd be awfully dull, no?

I think I've set this up for just myself. So, I'm wondering if anyone else can see it. That'd be cool, I guess. Not sure why I set it up the way I did... Hey! Leave a comment if you see this. I know it's dumb. Don't come here looking for deep thought on issues of politics. I despise politics. Not nearly as much as I despise politicians, though.

In fact, I'm not sure if this is the place to come to if you're looking for anything deep. I really don't know for sure what I'm going to write!

And, you know, you may come here for days looking for something new, only to be disappointed. Then, one day you'll drop by... and BANG! there'll be 10 posts just on that one day!

So, until the next time, have a great day.

(Now, leave that comment, won't you? I'm dying to see if anyone stumbles across this space!)