Why New Jersey?

God only knows. It's not a place I'd visit on my own.

However, our corporation has offices here. And in those offices works a man with a certain set of skill sets working on a particular range of environments. I need to learn those skill sets, as said man has decided to resign, having been made an offer "he couldn't refuse."

And so I will spend two weeks here.

Now, next week will be more fun, as Scott will be joining me. We'll do a bit of site-seeing at night, seeing NYC.

Maybe take in a show. If we can find one that interests us.

East Coast Musings

Well, I've arrived in New Jersey. I'm warmly ensconced in my riverside hotel in Jersey City. As I gaze out the window, to my left if I could crane my neck out that way, I'd see the Manhatten skyline. I look east, out over the river, and towards the ocean. There, just a little to the right is "The Statue". That emblem of freedom, of hope, of relief. The Statue of Liberty.

At least this is what I saw earlier today, when it was still light out. It's only 5:23 eastern time, and already the sun has set. I look out to the east and see a suspension bridge, it's suspension cables outlined in green lights. Directly in the center between the two suspension towers and up is a crescent moon, it's reflected light playing out, dancing on the waves on the river. It's a lovely sight. But my mind still sees that statue, knowing that black spot just.over.there is where it stands.

This is the first time I've laid eyes on it. It is, for me, a poignant sight. It moves my soul. I think of the youthful vitality of a nascient nation that received it from across the ocean. I think of the countless (by me, anyway) immigrants to our shores seeing it for their very first time. Seeing it as their ship chugs towards it's berth.

I think of the joy they felt, the sorrow at leaving their homeland, mixed with joy at arriving in their new life. I think of the relief many felt knowing that now.they.were.free. They were arriving in the most free country on earth.

I think of the optimism of the words inscribed upon it.

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door

In the century after this "new colossus" was erected, this young vibrant country, empowered by thosing huddled teeming masses who struggled to reach these shores, became arguably the most mighty superpower this planet has ever seen.

This view out my window is, however, a poignant and bittersweet view for me. For the promise of those words now rings hollow. The freedom of which the statue speaks seems fleeting, ephemeral now. Oh, I think the promise is still there, can still be found.

But, with all apologies to my reader...s... this nation has the wherewithal and fortitude to lead the world in all areas in those things democratic and free. But we have surrendered the moral highground that we once, presumably, held.

Our current president, and unlike many I don't think he's an idiot, just merely an evil, evil man; this president works tirelessly to deprive the citizens of this country of their birthright of freedom. For him, freedom is grand... for the rich. And we have no one to blame. WE elected him. (Okay, not me, I voted against my better judgement for Kerry.) We have only ourselves to blame.

I look out, now, upon that statue; I think of it's promise to a country newly born. And it saddens me that merely 125 years or so after it's construction, this is a country already on it's descendence.

And that saddens me terribly.

Okay, I'll bite: Friday's Feast

Appetizer
What was the last game you purchased?

Uh, don't remember. One of the "Call of Duty" games.

Soup
Name something in which you don't believe.

I don't believe that God visits disaster on humanity for any reason.

Salad
If you could choose a television personality to be your boss, who would you pick?

Ty Pennington. He's easy on the eyes, and a nutcase... oh, and did I mention he's easy on the eyes? How's that for shallow?

Main Course
What was a lesson you had to learn the hard way?

That integrity is priceless.... once lost it is virtually impossible to regain, though it can be with years of hard work.

Dessert
Describe your idea of the perfect relaxation room.

Okay, this one is easy. It would be a room in a cabin, located high on a hill overlooking a hugely panoramic vista with a huge window. Quiet music, low light, and a raging fire in the fireplace. A nice cozy armchair, and a wall full of books.

The Intelligence of Dogs

This post is inspired by another blog I read this morning.

Dogs are smart. Most of us think otherwise; we see them do some incredibly dumb things. But in those things driven by instinct or by breeding, they can be quite intelligent... in their own doggy way.

In 1999, Scott and I became dads to two White German Shepherd Dogs. They were so cute at 8 weeks old... big bundles of soft, snow white fur with black little eyes and black little noses. We adored those two, and I suspect we'll never quite feel that strongly for any other pups. That we lost both of them at very early ages was crushing to us. We named them Savannah and Travis.

It was about the time they were 8 or 9 months old that we caught on to the sharpness of their instinctive intelligence. Scott and I were out, and Pam, our friend with whom we shared our home, was home alone. Pam was a pretty tough, feisty little lady. Only 4 feet tall, she'd have ripped the gonads off of anyone who messed with her, and fed them to the offender had she been so inclined. But, no matter how tough one is, it's always nice to have a little added protection!

So, it was late evening, a dark night. Pam had the windows open, and the lights in the main room were out. Savannah was at her post, lying beside Pam facing out into the main room. Travis was at his post, across the room facing the door, also lying down. Suddenly, Savannah's ears perked up and she raised her head, sniffing at the air. Travis, who always lay in such a fashion as to see the front door and at the same time keep Savannah in his line of vision, took his cue from Savannah's heightened state of alert and rose to his feet, hunched down, hackles up, ears back.

Pam related later that night when we got home that Travis began silently roaming the perimeter of the room, stopping periodically at the open window. The windows in that old room were level with Travis' head on the inside, and just about head height to a man or woman on the outside.

So, anyhow, Travis began making the rounds of the room, stopping at all the doors to listen and peer into the darkened room beyond, then moving on, coming to a stop at the open window. Here, he would hunch down so his head was below the sill level, and lift his nose to sniff. Then he'd do the circuit again.

After a few circuits he moved in beside Savannah, lowered to his belly and took the same stance as her... but she would rise, hackles up, ears back and start the rounds, repeating what Travis had just finished.

Pam related that this happened for about 10 minutes, every now and then the one guarding Pam would emit a very low rumble, barely audible to Pam, though obviously quite audible to the other.

When about 10 minutes had passed, both dogs dropped to their bellies and began edging towards the open window. By now, Pam had reached for her phone. The two dogs moved to inches from the window, lying on their stomachs with their ears and noses alert. By now Pam could hear the gravel of the driveway crunching under someones steps.

Now, I can only imagine how this transpired. I see myself sneaking up on an open window. It's dark inside. I get to the window, put my hands up on the sill and pull myself up to peer inside. Before I can even focus my eyes, two white ghostlike and HUGE dogs appear in front of me, all teeth, and growls and barks.

Pam said she heard the man emit a high squeal, and then heard nothing but the sound of running footsteps retreating into the night.

Pam swore to me the two dogs looked at each other with grins on their faces then went and returned to their posts. Savannah by Pam, facing out into the main room; Travis at his post, across the room facing the door, also lying down.

2 years later, just days before we lost Savannah, I saw very similar behavior at our new home. The story is too similar to relate, but both took turns guarding and patrolling, before sneaking up and scaring the crap out of a prowler, so I know what Pam said is true.

Addendum

Okay, there's not much I detest more than SPAM. I'm sick of spam.

I can either disable commenting on my blog, which would make me very unhappy... because I always love seeing all those comments. ahem, yes, well, anyway, I don't want to do that.

So, dearies, I've enable word verification. Please tolerate it!

At last! We're finished! or ARE we??

Okay, so you know I've been involved for the past month moving my parents out of their house into an Assisted Living environment.

Dad really wanted a two bedroom place, but one wasn't available until next year, so he settled on a 1 bedroom.

It's been a busy month arranging for the moving (we did it ourselves) clearing out the old house (all 2 years old) selling the house. Monday night we moved the last box out, and declared "Yeah! We're done! Now we can get back to the projects at our own house."

So, today we went to lunch with the folks. As we were leaving, one of the business managers met us in the hall..."Could you stay, please? I have some news for your parents."

We went back in to the apartment. "I have some news!" declares the lady, "A 2 bedroom place just became available!"

And so it ends... and begins again in one brief moment. Sigh. Fortunately, this move should take all of 6 hours, and that's if we go slow.

Anyone care to help????

Finally!

At last. We've got Mom & Dad moved out of their house. Scott and I moved the last box last night. The house is empty. The hustle/bustle, can't do anything, no life process of getting them out is done. I sigh a deep sigh of relief... and look forward to the next challenge facing us.

The sale closes Thursday. Alas, Dad apparently moved out of the house, into the new facility, and walked away completely from the sale process. I find out yesterday that there is a ton of things he's dropped. So now I get to deal with that... but this too shall pass, and it's not as stressful as the move was.

Of course, during the process I have acquired a ton of stuff... some antiques, some things that just have special meaning to me, memories of life long ago... a time when I was the child, and THEY were the parents. Now it all seems, somehow, reversed.

We have no room for these new "things". Our dining room has been, for over a year, filled with stuff that had no home anywhere else. Much of it was slated for our Garage (or Yard) Sale... the one we are going to have in 3 months... the same one that we've BEEN going to have in 3 months for the past 3 years! Last night, I could barely open the doors to walk in to the room to put in... just... one... more... thing. I half expected to hear a big "BOOOF!" as I closed the door... the sound of the room exploding it's contents out into the street.

But I learned something in this move. I can do better financially from DONATING this stuff to the Goodwill, or the Salvation Army, or some such. So THAT is the next mission. Clear out the dining room, get rid of the, uh, well, CRAP that is stored in there and move in the new from Mom & Dad. I'm looking forward to being able to set a dining room table for Christmas (I have no hope of accomplishing this by (USA) Thanksgiving Day.

So, life is good. Always!

O! Canada!

To my Friends in the Great nation to our north:

Happy Thanksgiving Day!

God Bless!

Revelling

Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, revel in
God! (Philippians 4:4a)

Some of you are aware that I'm going through a rough
time these days with my job and with my parents. The
combination of the two has left me feeling overly
vulnerable, emotional, and quite overwhelmed.

Today, I reread the above verse from this coming
Sunday's NT reading. I looked up the word revel. I
mean, I know what it means contextually, I use the
word, but I wondered just what does it mean to revel
in God? Party Hearty in God? Well, yes, I suppose
that, too.

But if I plug the Mirriam Webster definition into that
verse it reads:

Celebrate God all day, every day. I mean, take intense
pleasure or satisfaction in God!

Isn't that a great concept?! All day, every day, take
intense pleasure and satisfaction in God!

What a great way to embrace the day... what a great
way to put the worries and the stress and the
pressures of hard jobs, illness, death, or problematic
homelifes to the side, to turn them over to the God
who is so present that we can take intense pleasure
and satisfaction in that Presence!

For me, to take that degree of pleasure and
satisfaction in God, I see myself enraptured, standing
emotionally naked before my Creator, bathed in the
warm... hot even... light of God's enduring love, a
love so powerful, a love so intense, nothing, NOTHING,
can overcome it. A love so powerful that not even the
grave or death itself could even put a damper on it.

Wow, God! Thank you!

Review

What a week! It's been a pretty hard one here.

About a month ago, my parents put their house on the market, and made arrangements to move into a retirement community. Last week, my sister-in-law M arrived in town to help them prepare for the move.

Saturday, Scott and I spent the day helping with preparations, planning to do more on Sunday. But Sunday before we could get to the house, M called to inform me that she'd talked with the folks and Dad was going to go to the ER. He wouldn't tell her which one. There are 3 major choices.

We spent 30 minutes tracking him down, then rushed to join him. We lost the entire day as we waited at the hospital. It was hard on Dad, and by the time we left, he was exhausted.

Monday was the big day. Scott and I arrived at the house with the truck from U-Haul and by 5 p.m. had moved all the big items they'll need in their new apartment.

Tuesday Dad was still weak and tired, but tried valiantly to help with the ongoing preparations. That night we all decided to take the night off.

Wednesday night, we moved more stuff. Dad was even more exhausted, Mom is of little help due to the Alzheimers. We spent part of the day at the doctors with Mom, as she has stopped eating, hasn't had a real meal in over a month, and M felt we needed to go back to the Dr to see what more could be done. We were told that very likely we should prepare for the end, that it was likely that mom's brain was shutting down her digestive system. Mom is still enough "with it" that she could adamently declare that we were not to feed her intraveinously.

Thursday M and the folks were back at the house... suddenly dad just announced he couldn't do any more and sat down... M told me he was sweating heavily. He decided to go to the doctor but steadfastly refused to allow M to accompany him. He finally relented to allowing Mom to go with him. M called me, and I rushed over to the dr office.

Dad was admitted to hospital, but the preliminary diagnosis was not good.

M spent the night at the apartment with Mom and Friday we all met back at the hospital... Mom had an appointment for a CT Scan to see if there was a physical problem preventing her from eating.

By the time we got up to Dad's room, they'd conducted a load of tests, and were preparing to release him. ALL of the dire diagnosis of Thursday were wrong. He wasn't bleeding internally... his heart was NOT giving out, indeed, his heart was far healthier than the average 80 year old!

Dad is dehydrated (they rehydrated him intraveinously) and exhausted from over-exertion. He's taking the weekend off, and Scott and I will take on the daunting task of working at their old house.

And Mom announced on arriving home at the new apartment that she was STARVING! She ate 2 cups of pop corn, the most nutritious thing she's eaten in weeks. And she was looking forward to having grilled salmon in the dining room.

So, it seems to have worked out... but the stress and anxiety of the week left me drained. I know I need to be strong for them. But its very hard to watch my parents decline like this. We've been blessed with a close lovin relationship, and I hate how the cards have turned.

And that dear reader(s) is my week.

Friday's Feast

Well, some time ago, I promised myself I'd never give in to the "meme" or "tag" game... but it's been so long since I wrote, I decided to give it a shot. So, here goes.

Appetizer
Do your closer friends tend to be male or female? Why do you think that is?

Gender only matters to me in bed. I look at the personality to determine who my friends are. That said, my closest circle of friends at this time are both male AND female, but with a slightly higher number of women.

Soup
If you could wake up tomorrow with a new talent, what would it be?

Time management skills. Mine totally suck.

Salad
Name a household cleaning item that you would recommend to others.

Simple Green. I like the smell, it kills bacteria, and cleans well.

Main Course
What do you strive for in life?

Socratic virtue: Balance. That and fantasical wealth... I'm thinking $150 million will probably be sufficient.

Dessert
On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how funny do you consider yourself?

Maybe a 6... but I'm factoring in that I find myself a hell of a lot funnier than others do. I'm usually the only one who laughs at my jokes. That said, I heard a joke last night that everyone else laughed at, and I'm still trying to get it. "Two nuns are sitting in a bar. One turns to the other and says 'I wonder where the soap is?'. The other replies 'That's for sure!'". Is it just me? I don't get it! That's funny?

Update on the Walking

Wow! I just had a fascinating experience on my walk this morning.

About a block before I got to where "my" deer normally grazes, and where we commune each morning, I happened to be looking towards a vacant lot. My eyes spied movement.

At least 7 deer had heard me walking and were running off towards the wooded hills. Then, I heard a clatter, and saw on the street ahead of me an eighth deer running off towards my left. I took a moment to watch these graceful animals, then started my walk again.

Almost immediately I sensed movement off in the direction the larger herd had dashed. Looking over, I saw a deer in full run, heading straight for me!

I stopped to watch, unsure what was going to happen. "You can't be serious," I thought "Surely this deer isn't going to attack me, is it?"

Six yards from me, right at the roads edge, the deer brought itself to a stop, then turned partially.

It was a young deer, a fawn, it's spots still clearly visible in the dawns light. He looked right at me. We stood, less than 20 feet apart gazing at each other. I looked behind him, and there, in the trees I saw the rest of the herd watching intently.

We stood there, virtually toe to toe (hoof?) for several minutes, then he nonchalantly turned and walked away.

I was totally humbled by this. Thank you, God.

What's the buzz... tell me what's happening!

My church has been abuzz, of late, about "The Homeless Problem". Many don't want them hanging around our property. We feed them on Sunday mornings, and to many in our congregation that's too much. Let's keep them away the rest of the week! They scare us.

I'm committed to helping our homeless. I am a staunch supporter of our Sunday Breakfast Ministry. I prepare meals, at my own expense for up to 60 one Sunday each month. I've done it two Sundays a month when the need was present. I feel strongly about the rightness of this ministry, at almost all cost to all other ministry in our church. I feel so strongly about it that if the congregation ever decides to terminate the ministry, I may have to leave the congregation.

Why? Frankly, the homeless scare me, a little, too. I'm relatively shy, an introvert, I don't talk easily with folks I don't know and can't relate to well. My ministry to these folks is two-fold. I cook their breakfast one Sunday a month. And I stand in the food line serving them and doing what comes natural to me... I pay them respect. Each scoop of eggs or ham or bacon or whatever comes with a "Good Morning, Sir! Thank you for joining us today!" Or, "Good Morning, Ma'am! It's a pleasure to see you!" They're human beings, and they deserve common courtesy as much as the VP of my division at work. PErhaps more.

Why am I so devoted to this ministry? Perhaps it's because I come more and more to embrace the words of Peter:

9But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,£ in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 10 Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

I remember my bishop (RCC) referring to gays as "faggots". I recall the numerous condemnations of me as a gay person put out by the Vatican. I hear the sneering attacks on my humanity by major, national evangelists... you know the ones. I have seen people turned away at churches, told they are not welcome, not wanted, unloved. I have seen those who have been graced by a gracious God, turn away those they disapprove of, in acts of utter UNgraciousness and even cruelty.

Once I wasn't anything. But then I discovered that not only am I something very important, someONE very important, but I learned to accept that my God made me who I am, and I am Chosen, a royal priesthood, once I didn't matter, but now I realize I AM part of a people, still scorned by the churches, I've received mercy at my loving Parent's hand. I AM somebody.

How foolish, then, and how ungrateful, could I be as to turn away ANY of God's people because they don't conform to societal norms. Because, for whatever reason, they have found themselves destitute and bereft?

So, no, I don't think we have a homeless problem at my church. We have, in our pastor's words "a homeless situation"... more to the point, perhaps, we have a homeless opportunity.

An opportunity to share the love that has been given us unconditionally by our Parent with others who need that love just as much as we do - maybe, no PROBABLY, more than we do.

Walking

Have I mentioned here that I've taken up the sport of walking? Well, I have.

I don't know a lot about addiction. I'm lucky in that vein... I've never had a problem with alcohol... IF I have a drink, I have A drink... maybe 2. It's been nearly a decade since I've been drunk. And I've only ONCE tried an illegal drug... I took a hit off a cousin's joint. Okay I took several.

Well, I DO smoke. So I fully admit to having at least one addiction. I imagine somewhere out there, there's a Smokers Anonymous program (and please don't misconstrue that comment... I mean no disparaging remark to AA).

But now, I seem to have developed another addiction... to walking! (Another side note... I really don't intend by this comment to minimize addictions.) I can't seem to get enough! And when I walk I need, NEED, to know how far I've walked! I get a bit of a natural high off of a good walk!

I washed my pedometer this week. $60 down the drain... almost literally! I forgot it was attached to my shorts and threw them in the washer. By the time the new one arrived, I thought I'd go crazy not knowing how many steps I'd taken each day.

Every morning, I get up before dawn and get a cup of coffee. Then, I go check email and skim through my list of blogs, opening them all in tabs, then closing the tabs that have nothing new. I leave the remaining tabs for later.

Then I get dressed. First the socks, then the shoes... then, ahem, my underwear, t-shirt and shorts. Why? I have no clue. All other times of the day, I dress the NORMAL way, with shoes and socks last. TMI?

Then, I grab my bottle of specially prepared gatorwater and head out the door. I walk up the hill, listening as I walk (no stroll, this, I mean WALK... HARD!) to the sounds from the houses as families wake up.

About 8 blocks up the hill, the hill starts to steepen. Two more blocks and the hill is now pronounced. I turn right and walk a block over, then left and another block, then right once more. I'm at the foot of Eliott... This is a STEEP hill... without breaking stride, I begin my climb. I have to change my gait a little, or the arthritis of my knee would lock me up. But I keep my pace. By the time I'm at the top of the hill, I'm out of breath, but I don't stop.

I start down the other side. By the time the hill levels out to a bit of a downward slant, my breathing is back to normal. This is good.

Because now I finally slow down and creep another 20 yards until the hill to the right gives way to the edge of the lawn by the nursing home. There she is. Every morning. She's a beautiful girl, always with her two children trailing along.

She looks up at me with those big beautiful eyes, every bit of her attention now on me as she tenses.

I stop. I whisper sweet nothings to her. Finally she relaxes. Behind her, her children look expectantly at her, waiting for her to give some kind of signal. They utterly disregard me. It's MOM who they focus on.

After several minutes, I tell her I have to go. She nods her assent, then bends her long graceful neck to her task. I turn and walk off, looking over my shoulder at her. Every morning it's the same... and for some reason, every morning a tune from Sound of Music pops into my mind... I wonder... am I in love?

"Doe... a deer... a female deer!"

A little further down the path, I sometimes see a raccoon run down in to the creek at my approach. Then I'm over the bridge, and across the highway. From here, its a straight shot down to another highway, a right turn, and 10 minutes later... an hour after starting off... I'm home. I check my faithful pedometer. 5,485 steps. Let's see, a 3 foot stride, 5,485 steps... that's 16,455 feet...uh, come one brain do it... do it.... dooo ittt... ah, yes! 3.11 miles. Sigh. Tomorrow I need to add some to my route. 3.11 miles a morning is just NOT enough!

Scott is now up, feeding the cats. Nikki jumps all over me as though I've been gone a week. The lights come on. I strip off the shoes and socks, the shorts and, uh, shorts. I put a towel over the office chair so that the sweat which now streams off me won't damage the stained fabric... then pour another coffee, sit down and read the blogs that interest me.

I always finish with the same one... one of the few bloggers I feel like I'm beginning to know.

It's now 3:30 p.m. I only have 12 and a half hours before I can do my walk again. I need it! I WANT it! I can't wait!

I'm Back... maybe

(See correction about Lake Moraine below. 8/4/05)

Well, I'm just finally getting settled back in to the hum-drum of daily living after a 10 day vacation... sort of.

Scott & I left on July 21 for a two-pronged vacation. For the first 5 days, we visited beautiful Calgary, Alberta, Canada. This was a blast!

Our first full day, we rented a van and drove up to Jasper National Park and Banff National Park. It was a fun drive, and the views were just awe-inspiring. These parks are home to what I believe to be the most beautiful mountains in North America (perhaps shy of Alaska, which I've not visited...yet.) The Bow River which ran parallel to the highway was a magnificent green color. We saw Elk. Wanted to see bear, but didn't expect to, and didn't.

When we got to Lake Louise, we drove over to the ski lodge and rode the chair lift up to the 6850 foot level. I honestly don't have the kind of language to describe the view! Far off across the valley lay Lake Louise. The air was crisp, clear and with just enough warmth to make the trip up and the visit to the nature center there a delightful experience.

After travelling back down the mountain, we continued along to the west just so we could say we'd visited British Columbia, then made the nearest turn around, and headed back to Lake Louise. This time, we drove up to the lake and walked along it's edges for about an hour. The three people with me all took off a shoe and tested the water. That wasn't good enough for me... I removed both shoes, rolled up my jeans and waded out as far as possible without getting my pants wet. Oh, my gosh! Was it ever cold. But, really, after the numbness set in, it was quite enjoyable!

After leaving the lake, we drove back towards the road (Trans-Canada Rte 1, aka TC-1, by the way) we saw a turn off for another lake, Moraine Lake. Feeling adventurous we followed this road for 11 kilometers (a bit over 6 miles) up a 75% grade (ear-popping time!)

When we finally arrived we discovered that we'd made a fantastic decision. Moraine Lake was far more beautiful, in my opinion, than Lake Moraine! (NOTE (8/4/05): Uh, sorry for this last sentence. It should have said "Lake Moraine was far more... than Lake LOUISE!) I've never seen water that blue! I've never seen anything NATURAL that color blue! The closest I can describe it is... check out a neon "Open" sign... the blue neon ring around the outside... that's close!

Walked over 12 miles that day! Beautiful scenery, good friends, nice companionship... and the man I love... what more could a guy ask for????

The remainder of our time in Calgary was spent at our church's General Conference. Each morning, the four of us woke up, and walked around the city, down to the river (still the Bow) and back up to our hotel... about 3 miles. The rest of the day was spent in awesome worship and reasonably good workshops.

Then it was time to put the cool, crispness of Calgary behind us, as Scott and I flew on to Washington DC, with it's haze and 99 degree heat, and humidity that was almost unbearable.

Washington DC is in actuality a pretty fantastic place to visit. We got to see many of the sights. But I'm so glad it's only a place to visit for me. I'd hate to live there!

We joined my mom and dad for dad's "96th Infantry Division Reunion". It's probably the last one this big, and it was 60 years since the end of the war. It was fun seeing Dad meet old army buddies, in some cases for the first time since he was evacuated from Okinawa.

It was a very stressful time for us, though. Mom's Alzheimer's is taking a serious toll and the stress of the event and travel really showed. I think she had fun. I hope she did! I did, just knowing that it's one of the last memories of her I'll carry.

Of all the cities I've visited in my travels around the globe, Calgary is probably the only one I could REALLY get into. Small enough to be similar in size to Omaha, yet with a distinctly big city air to it. Folks aren't hooked on the macho man image there, lots of folk walk and bike, and there's a decent rapid transit system.

I'm no huge U.S. jingoist. The USA is, to me, just one more country in which to live. No better, and no worse, than any other country. Our legal system and form of government are potentially among the best, yet how we use them, and abuse them, means that potentiality is never reached.

I won't bash my country. I won't bash any other country. I'm happy here.

But if I HAD to leave, I suppose Canada might be a nice place to settle. Not that they're likely to want me!

I'd like to say I was surprised by the anti-American sentiment I encountered there... though it was appropriately directed towards the government, not to individuals. But I wasn't surprised. Not after 5+ years with the Australopithecus that currently pollutes the White House. I'd have called him a Neandertal, but frankly, didn't want to insult that species.

I'm hoping to return to my posting on a more regular basis soon. When I do, though, I plan on writing about what interests me. And if I seem to get stuck in a particular topic or area, well, that's just the way it is. I write for me. If others enjoy it, that's great! If not, I do truly apologize. I've really enjoyed getting to know the one or two folks I've met through my blog.

The Tramp

Before I begin this blog, I think a definition or two is in order. And before the definition, an apology to "The Fellow Traveller". I just two minutes ago sent you an email explaining why it was unlikely I'd be bloggin any time soon. And Voila! Out of the clear blue, inspiration.... such as it is.

"Tramp [Noun]"

1 a : a foot traveler b : a begging or thieving vagrant c : a woman of loose morals;
2 : a walking trip
3 : the succession of sounds made by the beating of feet on a surface (as a road, pavement, or floor)
4 : an iron plate to protect the sole of a shoe
5 : a ship not making regular trips but taking cargo when and where it offers and to any port -- called also tramp steamer


I've taken to walking, lately. It was recommended as a form of activity for one who was, otherwise, pretty inactive. I find I've actually become a bit addicted to this form of activity.

A little over a week ago, I found myself in Branson, Missouri, at a family reunion. Table Rock lake was just across Highway 165 (or was that 265?) from our motel, and the entrance to the State Park was just few dozen yards down the road. There is a nice walking trail along this shore of the lake, starting at the park's marina, and running to the dam that created the lake. From the Marina to the Dam was a total of 2.5 miles.

My first afternoon there, I walked from the park down to the Marina, then back, a mere 1.6 miles. This is where the point of this blog, such as there is one, comes to the fore.

As I was walking up the road, I found myself in the middle of the entrance to the boat ramp as a car coming the other way decided they wanted to turn into the ramp area. I was in the way. I chose not to run to clear the way for them (inconsiderate of a mere pedestrian, don't you think?) as i) it was hot, ii) I was a little tired, iii) I have arthritis, making it a tad hard to run and iv) it was all uphill.

As I passed the passenger door of the car, the female passenger muttered loud enough for me to hear (like, duh!) "Tramp!".

Me! A Tramp! Of course, I'm not a pleasant man. I don't take kindly to being called names, and I'm tired of doing so. So, I didn't let this go. I muttered (loud enough for the passenger to hear me, like duh!... no, I won't tell you - you can guess! But I must interject an abject apology to my dog Nikki. Sorry girl, didn't mean to demean you to such a degree!)

But today, I looked up the definition of Tramp... and I see I may have been too hasty to judge the darling lady in the car.

Perhaps she was just calling me what I was! A Foot Traveller. Surely she couldn't have determined from observing me for 5 seconds that I was a beggar or a thief. On the other hand, I suppose I MIGHT have looked a bit of a vagrant. Now, as to being one of loose morals, I totally challenge ANYONE to be able to determine that from watching a tired, sweaty man struggling up a bit of a hill!

And, it's true, I was on a walking trip. My feet are a bit largish, so I do tramp as I walk, slapping my battleships with each step (especially on road, pavement of floor surfaces... uh, what else is there?)

I think I'll categorically deny definition 4. Just doesn't fit. I'm not an Iron Man. I have never BEEN an Iron Man. And I think it is relatively safe to say that, at 47, with arthritis in both knees, it is highly unlikely I shall ever BE an Iron Man.

Which leaves us with definition 5. I suppose to a petite, vapid and totally brainless little thing sitting in a sports car, I might be mistaken for an ocean going vessel. But that part was just plain mean of her. I mean, after all! I've lost 23 friggin' pounds, thank you very much!

Emergent/Postmodern, eh?

Okay...

I can buy MOST of what this survey/quiz says about me.

But 64% Roman Catholic? Ewww.

Must I be insulted by anonymous Quizsters? ;)

And, that the quiz indicates I'm 4% fundamentalist... I guess, ok. I can see that. In fact I'd a thunk it was higher.

Oh, what the hell....

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this.

Emergent/Postmodern		93%
Modern Liberal		68%
Roman Catholic		64%
Neo orthodox		61%
Classical Liberal		57%
Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan		54%
Charismatic/Pentecostal		39%
Reformed Evangelical		21%
Fundamentalist		4%

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

Baboons and Cheetahs

It's funny how the strangest things can get my attention and lead me off in a direction that may have nothing to do with anything.

Today that happened. I was reviewing my Spam folder prior to emptying it. Near the top was one with the subject line "We need people BAD!" (It was from "Research Group".)

I read that and my thought immediately was "That's what I was saying yesterday!"

We need people BAD. I've heard a lot of people in my life say "Oh, I don't do church. I mean, I believe in God, but I commune with God alone, not in church."

Well, I can respect that. I too commune with God alone. I love sitting on a beach, or on a mountain top, in the middle of a desert or a snowy prairie, and connecting with my Divine Companion. Just the two of us, preferably (but not necessarily) under a wide, cloud-free, starry sky. My Companion speaks to me there, or just cradles me, my head against His shoulder (in those times, my Companion is definitely present to me as male.)

But we need people BAD. It's the tinder of numerous voices lifted in song, praise and worship to the Companion of All that keeps the spark glowing. I need that too. As much as I need the quiet times beneath starry skies.

And whether or not folks admit it, I really think we ALL need the group. Today, my references to the Divine Other specifically refer to that Reality as Companion. God is our Divine Companion, walking with us wherever - WHEREVER - we sojourn. It is that Companion who caused us to be; and I believe that Companion which causes us to be social creatures, not solitary ones.

Some of us are largely social, for whom a little quiet time now and then is nice. Others of us are largely private, for whom social time now and then is healthy.

But ya know, I don't care whether one is primarily social, or primarily private. Sojourning alone or in groups, we all must seek out the Companion.

Baboons and Cheetahs.

It only takes a spark...

Gosh! It's been nearly 3 weeks since I posted last. I feel bad about that, in a way, but not really. My blog serves as an outlet for ME to write when I feel the need to, or when I feel led to. The day it becomes a burden is the day I close it down.

I embarked, over a month ago, on a rather strenuous journey here to define my understanding of God. In my efforts, I forgot a simple fact that we as humans can never know the ultimate truth of who and what God is.

That said, I can express my understanding of who God is to me at this point in time; I can attempt however poorly to express the reality of God in my life as I experience God today. My journey thus far has taught me that this expression of God today will surely change by tomorrow.

Recently, I was part of a conversation that discussed why we should never turn someone away. In my rather limited ability to fully express myself clearly - or perhaps more truthfully, in my tendency to over simplify what I'm trying to say - I said "Because when we turn someone away, we turn away Jesus." It was pointed out to me that I was by that statement forcing Jesus into the role of cosmic policeman.

So, on my drive today (fully 3 weeks after said conversation) I was meditating on what I truly meant.

In 1 Corinthians 3:16 (The Message) Paul says to us "You realize, don't you, that you are the temple of God, and God himself is present in you?"

Each of us, whether the vilest criminal and sinner or the most pious of holy persons, is the temple of God; and in our temple is what I have come to call a "God-spark".

Some of us never encounter this spark within ourselves. Others commune with it daily. Our quest in life, ultimately, is to seek down into ourselves and encounter this God-spark, even merge our spirits into it.

When we engage in this quest, each encounter with another person enables the sparks within each individual to glow brighter. The more we open our hearts to others, the more we kindle our God-spark.

First, the mild glow spreads then blossoms into a gentle, lightly flickering flame as of a small candle in a darkened room. With each encounter, with each subsequent growth of our circle of association, that flame continues to grow.

God more fully exposes to us the reality of God's presence within each of us. At times, our God-sparks can dwindle back to a little spark, at others when we encounter each other in worship, a conflagration occurs. God's presence in each coalesces into God's presence to all. Profound experiences of God's presence in and to the world are felt, I believe, when the God-spark in us explodes into a wildfire.

When I turn away, or fail to welcome, a stranger, I am turning away not only that individual, not only Jesus, but another God-spark, another opportunity to meet God and to ignite in the world the wildfire of God's love. I diminish myself as well as the other.

This is what exclusion does to our world. Exclusion on a social or cultural scale deepens the darkness of spiritual night that surrounds us all, threatening to encroach and snuff us out. We as a society needs to, must learn that exclusion is not protection but ultimately our downfall. When society learns to welcome and embrace the diversity of experience around us, the wildfire of God's love can burn so fiercely as to deprive the dark of it's power. Imagine, a world awash in a flame so bright that the very night is banished.

Call it God's love, or Allah's love, or call it what you will, my vision can not override yours, and my truth of the Divine Other is not yours. But that Divine Other, in all it's many facets and manifestations is true for all. When that Divine Other is aflame in this world, oh what a world that would be!

Continuing on...

What can we know (or think we know) about the nature of God? A correlative question would necessarily be (in light of my foregoing discussion) Can we accept the following hypothesis: "God is immutable, human comprehension of the nature of God is not"?

This is how I ended my last post over 2 weeks ago. I can't say I've given it a lot of thought in that time. I had hoped for some comment, but none was forthcoming. So, I'll answer my second question. Yes, I accept the hypothesis that God does not change, but human comprehension of the nature of God does, indeed, change.

Once we looked around, and we connected with a divine reality, we figured there must be many of them to explain the forces about us....

Then we began to allow that understanding to coalesce into the understanding that there was but one divine reality that explained all of them... But we weren't yet ready to comprehend our own natures sufficiently, nor were we able to fathom something that was not essentially a grander us, namely we anthropomorphized our understanding of God... and the concept of the old man with flowing robes and a beard was born!

And on this old man, we placed our own faults and failings, while trying to declare him to be without faults and failings... so we contrived this concept of the angry God, wreaking vengeance and violence on the world on our behalf.

Our comprehension of the Divine paradigm changed, mutated to accept oneness. In time, some came to see that the divine paradigm was changing once again... this time to embrace a loving Divinity. And this space and my time are too finite to delve into the entire evolution of humanity's understanding of the Divine.

So, what can we know (or think we know) of the nature of God?

I'll throw out one or two things that I am comfortable in saying I know.

First, I'm comfortable with the notion/understanding that the Divine is ultimately responsible for the coming in to being of all creation... hence I'm comfortable in saying that this Divine Other CREATED all things. The method, however, of this creation is at this time incomprehensible.

Second, I'm comfortable with the notion that God is limited by God's own Will. In other words, while God is not limited by external laws of nature or other forces imposed upon the Divine, God has chosen to impose upon God's self, limitations.

So, thirdly, I can say I'm comfortable with the concept that God is Love, and the source of all Love.

Now, it's your turn. Can you add to this list?

The Journey Continues

The Wanderer (yes, Jer, I was referring to you) posted a response on his blog yesterday, as well as commenting directly on my post. And his response and comment now, in turn, elicit a response from me.

First I want to clarify my comment about the immutability issue. I should have proofread my post more thoroughly yesterday, as I didn't complete my thought. Here's what I said:

For instance, one dogmatic statement comment to much of Christianity has to do with the concept of immutability. Namely, God is never changing, God does not change, and God cannot change, because God is all perfect. If we expect to accept that religion needs to change to meet new paradigms, what does that say about God's immutability? That is something I think most people have a hard time getting around. While at this particular moment in time the most virulently opposed to religious change, the most reactionary, fearful and thus dangerous group with confronting this issue is Fundamental Islam. However, Fundamental Christianity and Fundamental Judaism is not far behind. Indeed, the fundamentalist sects of just about every single religious structure on the planet is facing these questions, and becoming dangerous as a result.

I don't believe God changes. It's perhaps one of the few of the bedrock dogmas of Christianity that I can accept. I acknowledge in my heart that the God of today is the God of Creation, the God of History, the God for tomorrow. What changes, what is far from immutable is how we as humans understand God, and perceive God's handiwork in the world around us. The iconization and idolization of what many, if not most, Christians refer to as Holy Scripture retards the growth of human understanding by "plastinating" dogma at one point in time and denying us the ability to progress in understanding God. And progressing in that field of understanding is, contrary to common belief, a good thing. We have codified the cessation of spiritual growth by accepting a nearly 2000 year old definition of the concept of dogma. (Another clarification is needed here; I cannot address most Protestant understanding of the concept of Dogma, I can only speak for Catholic Dogma, and in that, Catholic Church holds that dogma is immutable.)

Secondly, I no longer look to the Roman Catholic Church to make progress in any field or endeavor in human understanding of the divine, as it is hopelessly locked in it's idolization of itself. While some Catholic scholars may make progress in this regard, it is foolhardy, in my opinion, to expect that the magisterium of the Church will ever embrace their work. For this reason, I am now convinced that the Catholic Church is destined over time to decline in the western world to a state of utter irrelevancy.

Third, and finally (at least for THIS post) Jer asks in his comment to my previous post, "How do we proceed?") My initial response is "What?!?! I only pose the hypothesis; don't expect me to do anything about it!" But, actually Jer's question is an interesting one, and one I'd like to explore. So, "How do we proceed?"

I think the process for working out for ourselves an understanding of What/Who God is begins with stating the basic question which will guide our considerations, followed by a supposition or understanding of the goal, then finally the posing of a question (or more).

I know that I am hardly the first individual to pose the questions in my previous post. In fact, those who read this post know that I have read some of Spong's books and that Bishop Spong does indeed address much of this. But I'm uncomfortable with Spong's assertions, and I'm even more uncomfortable replacing one icon with another. So, to the topic/hypothesis.

I believe that, for now, the question is simple: "Is God relevant to humanity in light of the phenomenal growth of scientific knowledge?"

The supposition on which I would build my process is that since human understanding of God is mutable, any results of the process are themselves subject to change over time, even the lifetime of those arriving at the results.

And finally the question to be posed as an initial understanding of the task would be a simple one. What can we know (or think we know) about the nature of God? A correlative question would necessarily be (in light of my foregoing discussion) Can we accept the following hypothesis: "God is immutable, human comprehension of the nature of God is not"?

A Conundrum

(Note: Before I begin, I have a question for my fellow wanderer: Have I offended you, brother? Now, on to today's post?)

I don't know when it started. I suspected it began about the same time that the first human, or perhaps even human LIKE, person molded a clump of mud into a figurine and declared that it represented a god.

Whenever it began, for countless thousands of years humankind has asked ontological and metaphysical questions. Who are we (as in humankind)? Where'd we (again, humankind) come from? How did all we (ahem, see above) perceive come into being? There are numerous other questions of this nature, and someone has thought them. I suppose there are ontological and metaphysical questions yet to be conceived. I'm almost sure of it.

Anyhow, at some point in the far distant past, our ancestors stopped answering the "Where'd we come from" question with "From my parents" and reached back beyond that to the ultimate where'd the first one come from, or has this gone on forever? At some point, seemingly simplistic answers ceased to suffice. As early humankind put questions together to realize that there were NO simple answers, ontological and metaphysical thought processes began. (I guess this is a question for the philosophy of the history of philosophy studies?)

So, where'm I going with this. Simply that at some point one or more of those early philosophers came up with a concept of divinity.

Over time, millennia to be sure, groups of humans came to identify with a set of gods that could provide them with answers to those troubling questions. And, just as humankind evolved further, so the religions evolved into more and more complex schools of theological and philosophical beliefs.

Now, let me be clear, you have read I hope enough of my blog to know that in spite of early claims, I do believe in God. There is, in my opinion and belief structure, SOMETHING behind those religions.

What these religions did, and the reason they evolved, I believe, is that as humankind continued to think on the questions and their initial answers to them, as the thought itself became more and more refined, the practice as perceived also became more refined. Religion as it stood became less real, and needed to grow to embrace the new questions and the new perceptions of divinity.

I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I believe religion as we practice it is a constantly evolving construct. In millennia to come, assuming we avoid destroying our habitat through cataclysmic nuclear war or more slowly through environmental neglect, and assuming the environment doesn't destroy (rebirth?) itself through natural causes (did you see "Supervolcano" on Sunday?), then in the coming millennia, religion and how we practice it will evolve into something we may or may not recognize.

As people of faith, and here I'm speaking of the philosophical theologians, both educated as such, and those lacking formal education, as these thinkers reflect on who and what God is in light of the expansion of knowledge they will see that religion itself cannot remain static. Religion, and the practice of it, must change to meet the new paradigms confronting it as scientific knowledge of the natural realm expands.

The precepts of Christian faith in it's current configuration met the spiritual and religious needs of humankind for a time. But that may or may not be true any longer.

In the field of religion, humanity shows its nature to be fearful of change. We resist moving into new areas of thought because we have difficulty comprehending that dogma is not black and white, no matter how much we want it to be.

For instance, one dogmatic statement comment to much of Christianity has to do with the concept of immutability. Namely, God is never changing, God does not change, and God cannot change, because God is all perfect. If we expect to accept that religion needs to change to meet new paradigms, what does that say about God's immutability? That is something I think most people have a hard time getting around. While at this particular moment in time the most virulently opposed to religious change, the most reactionary, fearful and thus dangerous group with confronting this issue is Fundamental Islam. However, Fundamental Christianity and Fundamental Judaism is not far behind. Indeed, the fundamentalist sects of just about every single religious structure on the planet is facing these questions, and becoming dangerous as a result.

In the "Children of the Book" world (Judaism/Christianity/Islam) I suspect that in the long run, the ones destined to have the most problem with change (and hence the most significant propensity to dangerous behavior) are the Christians. With Judaism and Islam, the question revolves around for them, who/what is God and what is to become of God in the new paradigms? Christians have to add to that Where does Jesus fit in? When the dust settles, whether in this century or in the next millennium, where will Jesus be in the economy of heaven?

When I confront this issue, I realize just what a complex task I've set myself, as I seek to answer these questions for myself. Because, even being open to the assertion that it MUST change, I fear the answer myself; I frequently doubt the hypothesis itself.

What a Difference a day makes....

Sung to the tune, of course.... 24 little hours in a day.

I woke up a different person today than I was when I awoke yesterday. Okay, not really. But, yes, really. Okay, let's face it... I believe we ALL wake up each day different in some way than the day before.

First off, let me back up a little. Last Friday I had to be taken to the local ER after I developed symptoms of lightheadedness and dizziness, feelings of constriction of my chest, some minor pain in my left shoulder, and numbness in my 3 left fingers of my left hand. The company's EMT determined my BP was far too high for her comfort, and observed that I was beet red and that my ears "almost literally glowed". Oh, and I just didn't feel too well.

Well, the doctor at the ER didn't think too much of my "issues". He was pretty ho hum about it. By 4:15 I was released, with a "strongly recommended" admonishment to see my doctor.

So, yesterday I saw my doctor. I was expecting a little tsk, tsking and an increase in my medications once again. My oh my did my visit NOT live up to those expectations. First of all, he won't increase the meds. Instead he's insisting I see the electro-cardiology (like I've been thinking about doing) and has told me that I probably will have to have the ablation surgery. Okay, that didn't make my day... even though I HAVE somewhat expected it.

But that was only the first of his pronouncements. The more significant one caught me way off guard. I have been diagnosed with Diabetes. That makes me not too happy. (Can you see the German reserve in me?) Daily finger pricks. I like pricks, let's face it. But not THAT kind of prick. I'm trying to psych up for it with that old queeny stand bye: "Hurt me, oh yeah baby, HURT me!" But that's not really helping.

********

What else? Hmmm.... Oh, on the subject of the Pope's passing and funeral. I've been reading about this "Spiritual Last Will & Testament". Got to thinking about it, and thought, Hmmm... Sounds like something I'd not mind doing. So I went out to the Internet and read a few samples.

Nope. Not going to subject you folks... or ME... to that. Ain't gonna happen.

But the Pope's passing has moved me. In death, and in the suffering he faced in the hours before death (I read a news item that interviewed his personal physician about those last hours that said in effect Yes, the pope had suffered greatly in those last hours... which is a whole 'nother topic I may or may not write about) he showed great grace and dignity, and was I feel, an example for all of us. His desire to bear that in solidarity with his Savior was inspirational to me. In spite of all his other flaws.

I read this morning after the funeral (no, I haven't watched it yet.... maybe later) a quote from a priest in Poland: "our Vatican umbrella has been taken down. We are now adults and must carry on with what we have learnt..." What an interesting statement... especially the last. "We are now adults and must carry on..."

That seems to be my primary problem with my RCC roots. The Vatican and more pointedly our bishops and archbishops see us just that way... as children. It's time for us to become adults, not to rely so heavily on some centralized teaching authority. We... okay I... need to come to grips with the simple fact of my own previous posts. My reality is that God is Divine Other, indwelling in my own spiritual cathedral, my soul. I may soil that soul, but nothing will drive that Divine Other from me. It is up to ME to find that Otherness, not for the dogmatists of some distant ecclesial body with parental hangups to direct me in how, when and where to search.

Just as in Scripture and in everything else for that matter, the church, be it Roman Catholicism or my own UFMCC, may provide material of great worth for my journey, but it is TRULY for me to sample that material and decide for myself.

The fact is, God IS within me, and hence knowledge of that Divinity also resides within. To find the ultimate destination I must, finally, look to the vessel of the journey itself.

The Pope provided for me what is perhaps one of the greatest services by his example... the good and the bad... in finding that Otherness. Pope John Paul Magnus... yes, I believe that... set his eyes and followed his Shepherd. He fell far more than his church will ever acknowledge, but all of us do. His brokenness and failure to embrace ALL God's Children hurt many of us to the quick... and beyond. He drove some of my fellows away from the Church, and worse, from the Divine Itself. And in that brokenness proved his own humanity. In living that brokenness and humanity, I think, is his final testament to his depth of spirituality and THAT is what I can glean from his time on Peter's Chair. As he set his sight on Jesus, and followed to the best of his limitations the way of Jesus, I think he can provide for many of us an example of how WE can follow Jesus.

Godspeed Il Papa!

In May, 1996, I walked out the doors of St. Meinrad School of Theology with a Masters Degree for the last time. It marked for me the end of a process, the end of an epoch. Because when those doors shut, my 38 years as a Roman Catholic came to an end. I loved the Church, it had nurtured and cared for me through some very rough times, and through some beautiful times.

But for me, the path on which the Church had set itself was unsupportable. The words and policies of my own Archbishop had cut me to the core, had killed within me something precious. I could, I found, no longer practice as a Catholic with good conscience.

I professed a love for that institution, even as I walked away from it. Not considering myself to be a "Recovering Catholic" (a term I found, and find, offensive) I considered myself, instead, a Catholic in Exile... an exile from which I knew then, and know now, I would never be able to return.

As the years have passed, I've found a new church home, a new Church, "True" for me in the same way that the Catholic Church is True for it's followers. As unjust edict after unjust edict spewed from the antiquated walls of the Vatican, I found myself hurt more and more. It came to a place, a time, when the thought of walking through the doors of a Catholic Church became unthinkable to me.

But through it all, I've held an abiding love for the man who has led that institution for all my adult life. I personally believe he will go down in the annals of the Roman Catholic Church as one of, if not THE, greatest popes of all time. And the history of the world will, I also believe, rank him as one of the greatest and most important leaders in the world in the last quarter of the 20th Century. I know in the last 20 years there are none who have had as much respect from the greatest number of people. Next to him the current fraud in the US White House is a pale shadow of a human; in stature, John Paul is a giant next to a toy soldier compared to the "Leader of the Free World" (Side note: Please, someone, help me stop laughing!)

It's true, some of the documents and words that have hurt me the most have come from John Paul, or with his blessing. To me, though, that has proved nothing other than John Paul II is, above all, a human with all the failings that humanity suffers. I still see him as a deeply spiritual man, with a heart for Jesus that is huge. I believe he doesn't see that his words are hurtful, that they are, in deed, wrong.

In a funny way, he is one of three people who keep my ties to the old RCC alive. With his passing, I know that that period of my life is truly over.

And so, as I watch the news, anticipating the worst with every minute, my heart breaks, my eyes tear, and my mind grieves for the loss of this great man. But to see his ongoing suffering wounds me even more.

So, Godspeed, Il Papa!

Okay, okay! If you insist...

Gosh, I'm disappointed no one asked me about being chased by lions or by baboons or by a hippo!

I wonder why? Surely the fact that no one is reading my blog has nothing to do with it! Nah!!!!! That's not it.

So, Mr. MineAllMine, won't you please tell us (me and my friends here) one of your stories, please? Huh? Come on!!!!!!

Well, if you insist.



We were visiting Meru National Park. When I was a little boy, there was a movie about a lion named Elsa. This true story took place in Meru National Park. In real life, the savannahs of MNP were even more spectacular than in the movie. Mount Kenya towered in the near distance, it's snow capped peak so close to the equator took my breath away. I can remember gazing at it in awe from our camp in the morning... I just can't remember which direction it was from the camp, but I think it was north-east.

Okay, this isn't one of the stories I intended to tell. I just came from doing a web search on MNP. I wanted to find out where that mountain was, but I read something that broke my heart.

When I was there, we were taken to a special preserve in the park... it was where the Park Service rangers and security personnel were housed. At various times, animals who were of special interest, and in special danger were brought there for safety.

We arrived within hours of the birth of a new, white (square-lipped) rhinoceros. I remember seeing this beautiful beast, grazing on hay and cut branches, looking deceptively serene, while her newborn struggled to nurse. Now, to just about any but die-hard animal lovers, I'm sure it's hard to imagine a beautiful rhinoceros. Trust me. Looking at this monsterous beast with it's baby at it's side I was moved by the beauty of it.

I just found out that the last rhinoceros, a white, in MNP was poached in 1988. This park, home to rhinocerii for millenia, is no longer.

While white rhino are not extinct, at least not yet, I'm sadded by this. I don't understand why this happened. I don't understand the poacher mentality.

I don't feel like telling my story any more. Maybe later.

Fond Memories

I'm not sure why, really, but this morning, as I showered, I was thinking about the three months I spent living in Kenya. Several of us went, and then scattered upon arrival to the four corners of that beautiful country.

A few spent their summer in little villages in the countryside, miles away from "civilization". The families they stayed with still spread cow manure on the inside walls of their homes to keep the walls from drying out.

I stayed in Nairobi, the capitol of Kenya. Unlike my associates who really lived a rough existence for those 3 months, the home I lived in had two servants and I was given my own bodyguard. My "country-kin" lived with their villages head chieftain. I lived with a government official, and his family were always in danger of kidnapping and other dangers.

About two weeks after arriving in-country, I confirmed that I apparently had a death-wish. The first night in Nairobi, I started to cross a street. I looked to my left, it was clear, and I stepped out. Fortunately for me, the man behind me saw my mistake and grabbed me, pulling me back onto the sidewalk as a car came barreling past me, just inches from where I'd been standing. (Someone needs to teach those folks to drive on the right damn side of the street!)

Anyhow, two weeks into my trip, we went on a trip to Nakuru, situated in the Great Rift Valley. Nakuru is home to Lake Nakuru which is famous for it's (real, live) pink flamingos... Thousands of these beautiful birds settle in it's waters. The streams and rivers which feed this lake are home, too, to crocodile. And in the lowlands around the lakeshore, are swamps populated with great swarms of mosquito.

We spent a beautiful, hot sunny day wandering around, then drove into town (after chasing the monkeys off our Land Rover) for dinner.

That night, back in Nairobi, actually out in the Ngong Hills area on Nairobi's outskirts, I began feeling rather poorly. By the middle of the night, I was waking literally every hour on the hour, and vomiting.

On Monday afternoon, the man I was staying with came home from work, and, with our bodyguards, got me loaded in the car for a trip to the hospital. During those first hours at the hospital I remember two events. The first was while we awaited the doctor. I looked out the window and saw a Kenyan Army truck pull up outside. Several prisoners were unloaded, in shackles. I turned to Erasmus and asked "What's going on?".

"This past weekend, a battalion or larger, of Somalis invaded the north. Our army drove them back and these are some of the prisoners." Back then, the Somalis were constantly raiding the northern borders of Kenya.

"Were they wounded?" I asked.

"No, but the Somali are a poor people, most of those men have never seen a doctor. We'll give them physicals to ensure they're healthy. We are a civilized people."

"Will they be returned, then?"

"No. They'll stand trial, and if found guilty, they'll be executed." I never had a chance to find out if he was serious.

The second one was between moments of absolute delirium. I awoke to find a technician by my bed. Simon, my bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. The technician had come to take some blood for testing. He was drunk. VERY drunk. Obviously BLIND drunk because he took my arm, sighted down the needle with one eye closed, swaying, then JABBED. After seven attempts, he (by pure luck, I'm sure) managed to find a vein and drew the required blood. He put the blood on his tray, and turned to walk away.

Try an experiment. Put 7 test tubes on their side on a flat, rimless tray. Pick up the tray, turn suddenly in any direction.

Resignedly, he put the tray down, turned back to me, picked up another needle.

I screamed. Loudly. And then passed out.

Three days later I awoke. I was in a different ward. The people around me were all of European descent. The man next to me pressed his buzzer, and when the speaker by his ear mumbled he spoke two words. "He's awake."

Later that day, I the doctor came in to see me. His words struck terror into my still foggy brain.

"Well, young man. My name is Dr. Eric _________. You gave us a scare. Let me start by telling you that you have Malaria and are quite jaundiced, which leads me to believe you have Hepatitis." His words faded. I remember we chatted for a while, then he left the room. A month later, I too left the room.

None of my clothes fit, anymore, I'd lost 30 pounds. I had one skill picked up from that month's visit. I was so thirsty, I could upend a large bottle of coke and chug it in one slug. I also remember being in a park with all these little kids standing around, as some guy bought me coke after coke, and I entertained the gaggle by chugging them all. Odd.

Months later, back here in the US, I went to the doctor so that he could run tests and determine what treatment regimen I would undergo. It would be for life, he informed me. A couple of days later, he gave me the results.

"Eric, we've taken 3 separate blood samples from you. I've good news. You do NOT have Malaria, and you do NOT have hepatitis. I've consulted with several specialists here in the US. It seems you didn't have Malaria, but A malaria... a fever. And you were jaundiced because you had severe food poisoning, and your liver was probably damaged. You're going to be fine."

He was right. It took six months, but I finally recovered. However, to this day I am a total lightweight when it comes to alcohol. One beer gives me a hangover. Two and I'm drunk as a skunk.


Do skunks drink? Do they get drunk? Is that why some folks are stinking drunks?

I remember my time in Kenya, though, not for my near death experiences (there were three more... perhaps someday I'll mention my being chased by three of apprises more dangerous creatures, a hippo and a lion.. and a troop of baboons.)

What I remember is the absolute beauty of its people and culture. I remember the times spent with my bodyguard, and 5 other Kenyans as we made our round of the Meru area. It was when I first came to realize the vastness of our world, and the diversity of peoples, and indeed, of nature.

And that I could persevere in just about anything.

Nick at Night???? Nah... not really.

"I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again." John 3:3

Well, I could take the Real Live Preacher up on a suggestion and write about "Nic at Night" but, I won't. I'll leave that for the more skilled amongst us. (BTW, Nic... as in Nicodemus... the one Jesus is addressing in the above verse.)

For years, I've always read that verse and wondered. Like Nicodemus, I wonder how can one be "born again". What does one have to do? I know, unlike Nicodemus, that this no physical birth or rebirth that Jesus spoke of. It's a spiritual birth. But just what work do we have to do, what books do we read, what changes do we have to make in our lives to accomplish this act of spiritual rebirth? When will we be ready for that rebirth?

I remember as a teenager being heavily involved in the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in my town. When most normal teenagers were out gallivanting about on Saturday night, I was at Prayer Meeting. I met a girl there, we dated (almost always with both sets of parents present) eventually got engaged, and the married. I remember that night I prayed for the Gift of the Holy Spirit, and the experience of receiving that gift. I remember that was the night I experienced my "Born Again!" experience.

So much water has flown by that bridge since then. So many miles have been walked on my journey. The hands of the clock have spun far too many times to revisit that night, to renounce it or to embrace it. Was it genuine? I don't know. I can't say, and I don't really care to revisit my beliefs on that score.

Because today, I feel differently towards that verse than I did back then (almost 30 years ago!). I still wonder at what things do I have to do to warrant that experience of being born again. As I age, not so gracefully, I might add, I am gaining an inkling that we are not born again, in any sense, physical or spiritual, as a fait accompli. The rebirth Jesus spoke of must of necessity, it seems to me, be a process not an act. It's something we are constantly undergoing.

Today, however, I read two passages of scripture that really put my focus on this rebirthing process. The first one is the same verse, but from "The Message" version of the bible. "Unless a person is born from ABOVE..." That ever so subtly (or maybe not so subtly) changes the whole flavor of the verse. Now it's no longer "A person must be..." That kind of change answers, in part, the "What must I DO?" question that arises from the verse... we don't do anything, the rebirth is from above... it's, dare I say it? A gift from God, this rebirth is part of the constant flow of Grace from above that is ours for the taking.

But a second verse, one from the Old Testament (or as my church likes to term it "Ancient Hebrews") really makes this strike home. Isaiah writes that God says:

"I have done it, and I will carry you;
And I will bear you and I will deliver you." (Isaiah 46:4)

I have done it. What? I have caused your new you to come into being, perhaps?
I will carry you and I will bear you... now THERE'S a pregnant turn of phrase! I see it now, this image of a pregnant God, carrying my NEW, reborn spirit.
I will deliver you. Whoa! That's not a passive thought, to me... it's declarative... and more importantly it's a promise! I WILL deliver you.

This will come, it will happen, I WILL deliver you, you WILL receive this rebirth from Above.

And I believe that. I believe it because I believe in this journey I'm on, this process of ever becoming a new being... drawing nearer, chronologically and physically to the Other Within.

On the day I make that connection, on the day I come face to face with that One Within, that is the day I'll receive my full rebirth.

Threenesses

The other day, while doing a search on information regarding the three dimensions of Physics:

Space, Time, Mass

I came across a blog from several months ago which introduced me to the concept of Spiritual Dimensions.

There are, it would seem, three spiritual dimensions to go with the three primary dimensions mentioned parenthetically above. Well, not so much as MATCHING those above, but in the sense that there are three mentioned. Know what I mean, Vern?

Three spiritual dimensions: Vertical or "up"ward, Horizontal or outward, and interal.

The Vertical dimension of spirituality is the dimension of relatedness between ourselves and the Other "out there". God in Heaven, in otherwords. According to the site that introduced this to me, the individual strong in this dimension is comfortable with prayer, worship and "other religious-related things and activities."

The Horizontal dimension of spirituality is the dimension of relatedness between ourselves and others. Our neighbor, friend, and even enemy. The individual strong in this dimension "is into
helping others, community service, social justice, good works, etc."

The Internal dimension of spirituality is the dimension of relatedness between ourselves our soul, or that spark of Other dwelling within us. According to my source, the individual strong in this dimension is harder to, ahem... PIGEON HOLE than the others, but "tend to find strength, energy, confidence, and peace from within, drawing from an inner source, often unknown to be deeply rooted in God."

I've been thinking on this a lot since reading that site. Three dimensions of spirituality, three dimensions of the physical world, three persons of Trinity.

And one can rather easily relate the three areas:

Space - Vertical - God (Father, Mother, Parent, Creator)
Time - Horizontal - Jesus
Mass - Internal - Holy Spirit

Okay, now, I have a little problem with that last one... But I suspect it wouldn't be hard to define it better so as to make better sense.

Asked how the concept of Trinity fits with his theology, Spong addresses the Trinity in this way (it's one of the things from Spong that I can really identify with):

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.

I experience God as a reality flowing through human lives and, for me, uniquely present in the life of Jesus.

These three experiences of the Other also fit the pattern above.

I'm not sure where I want to go with all of this. But it's interesting to me. Something to fill the time while commuting every day. Something to occupy my mind. And, a framework for a way to pray.

It has been asked of me, so let it be - a sample

Chapter 1

Before time began, One Existed. And the existence of This One can not be comprehended. The One Existed, and the One Loved – for love’s sake. As a result of this love for love’s sake, the One decided to create. So the One whispered “Let it begin.”

From deep within the One, the first dimension, mass, came into being; huge, massive, highly concentrated matter. This mass, which before the One’s whisper did not exist, now came into being and exploded with a force exceeding all force but that of the One who’s whispered command summoned it.

With the expansion of the detritus of this explosion, there came into being the two dimensions of Time and Space. Whereas before the whisper neither Mass, Time nor Space existed, now within the One and contained by the One, Mass, Time and Space came into being. Because Mass, Time and Space now existed, the One, who is One of Orderliness, looked upon the chaos of the explosion and deemed it appropriate that order be imposed. Upon Mass, Time and Space a set of ordinances which would come to be called “Laws of Physics” was imposed. The One was pleased with this beginning.

Pigeon Hole Christianity

What is more natural to us as human beings, at least as human beings birthed and nurtured in the epistemological framework of Western Civilization, than to categorize... EVERYTHING?

If we can conceive of it, we must categorize it. In fact, every word in this document can be categorized into at least one category.

So, it's not unusual that we categorize types of Christians. In short, we pigeon hole them.... thus the title of this entry.

The better we know something, the more we categorize it. So, most of us from the west categorize all Jews into a single category. All Muslims, likewise fit into a single category. But we (I'm speaking in very general terms here) know Christianity fairly well. So we break it down into categories. Were we Muslim, we might categorize Islam into numerous sub-groupings, while lumping all of Christianity into a single group. The same can be said of those of Jewish background.

As Christians, we are aware of the over-arching categories of Christianity, namely Catholic, Protestant and Orthodox.

There are smaller categories as well. There's fundamentalists, and literalists; evangelicals; conservatives, liberals, radicals. There're creationists and, well, non-creationists. There are traditionalists and 'post-modernists'. I could go on and on, I'm sure.

No matter how disorganized we are as humans, we tend to get pretty stuck on these categories. So, it's unlikely that we would think of someone as a fundamental, evangelical liberal. A Post-Modern creationist? I doubt it. On the other hand, some categories do mix well. I guess it all depends on where various categories fit on the spectrum of Christian thought.

I wonder if anyone has put together such a chart? Probably.

So, why all this discussion of category? It's because of a small project I've taken on, somewhat at the behest of a fellow pilgrim (yes, the one elsewhere addressed in my blog. You know, the one I don't name, except when I call him Jeremy which may, or may NOT be his or her name, just in case you're wondering.)

See, it's like this. How do I categorize myself? Or more to the point, how do I reconcile my theology with the spectrum mentioned above? This is especially troubling because you see, I think of myself as a (takes deep breath) Conservative, evangelical, post-modern, non-creationist, fundamentalist Traditionalist liberal. Put THAT in your pipe and smoke it!

How do I reconcile all this? Should I?

So, I decided to sit down and codify my beliefs, at least to some small degree. And I've begun by rewriting the book of Genesis... at least, I've begun to. I know the chapter structure of the first 7 chapters. I've written the first 2 or 3.

Wanna read them? Ya gotta ask! Just wait, though. Before you say yes, are you sure you know what you're getting into? I've a bit twisted mind, you know. By reading these you may get sucked into the swirling maelstrom of my madness. Or, you might just laugh and throw it away!

Oh the Irony of it all

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday. As we go forward into this Christian season of Lent, I hope to write a little more, but we shall see.

Yesterday, after work I went to church for our Ash Wednesday worship. Normally, Wednesday is reserved for our bible/book study. Doing my duty as this quarter's worship coordinator, I filled in for those positions that had not yet been filled by other volunteers. In addition to Opening Prayer and the Affirmation of Faith, I did the readings. Unfortunately, I didn't do my duty as well as I had hoped. Our worship leader changed the order of worship for the night, so after the opening prayer, I lead the Affirmation of Faith, only it had become "The Call to Worship"... not too bad; then I launched into our readings (very interesting, as the worship leader had chosen "The Message" as the version for last night.) That was where I messed up. Seems the worship leader had moved the "Confession" from after the sermon to before the readings... oops. Oh, well.

All this is, however, incidental to what I intend to comment on. The Gospel last night was from Matthew 6:1-21. Here's a sample from the first verse: "Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them."

This whole pericope from scripture, Matthew 6:1-21, is about not showing off our faith for the sake of appearance.

By about the 5th verse, I was beginning to feel a major case of giggles coming on. It was rather funny, I thought, indeed quite ironic that we were gathered for Ash Wednesday worship, listening to "do not do your acts of rightiousness before others", and cautions to do our praying in private, and yet, by the time we left, we were all going to be wearing our little signs of the cross in ash spread on our foreheads!

It was all I could do for a while, to hold my guffaws, especially when this message of private acts of prayer and righteousness continued into the sermon. Had I failed, had the guffaws burst out, I'm sure the worship leader would have scewered me... and that would be terrible... the worship leader was my partner, Scott!

Why is it that we do that? This Ash Wednesday observance? I know from my history of christianity classes that today's little cross of ash is the descendant of earlier times, times when the day was marked, not by a tiny cross of ash, but by pouring handfuls of ash upon ones head.

But, why? Jesus himself said "Don't do that! Don't show off your devotions and your 'holiness'. It doesn't mean a thing to God, and you receive your rewards from your peers and those about you. I ain't gonna reward you for it!" And really, it's nothing new... Isaiah, too, preached these outward signs were meaningless. Hear Isaiah on the topic:

"Don't you think I've had my fill of burnt sacrifices, rams and plump grain-fed calves? Don't you think I've had my fill of blood from bulls, lambs, and goats? When you come before me, who ever gave you the idea of acting like this, Running here and there, doing this and that--all this sheer commotion in the place provided for worship? "Quit your worship charades. I can't stand your trivial religious games: Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings--meetings, meetings, meetings--I can't stand one more! Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them!

You've worn me out! I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion, while you go right on sinning. When you put on your next prayer-performance, I'll be looking the other way.

No matter how long or loud or often you pray, I'll not be listening. And do you know why? Because you've been tearing people to pieces, and your hands are bloody.

Go home and wash up. Clean up your act. Sweep your lives clean of your evildoings so I don't have to look at them any longer. Say no to wrong. Learn to do good. Work for justice. Help the down--and-out. Stand up for the homeless. Go to bat for the defenseless." (From "The Message" (MSG) © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson)

I can just hear Him now. Both of them, Jesus and our Creator. "No, no, no, no! Why aren't you listening?" Dang, we're a hard-headed people!

Does he see his shadow?

Hey all,

Just coming out for a second to touch bases.

Into day three of a VERY sore neck and headache. Can't turn my head to either right or left, and tilting back hurts too... and the soreness I think is causing a really bad headache. On top of that, I've been fighting several days worth of severe chest pains. I'm guessing it's time to go see the cardiologist again. Crud. I really don't want this surgery. I was hoping the medicine would take care of it.

Other than that, nothing to write about... I don't create well with these headaches. Keep well.

Grace - according to eric

"Every day I learn something. As long as I show up to class. As long as I show up for my own life."

Yesterday, Jeremy piggy-backed a portion of his blog off of a statement I made in my previous post. Today, I return the favor...

I mentioned yesterday that the Executive Director of the MCC was the guest preacher at church. Her topic was "Keep walking through those doors". Keep showing up, in other words.

No matter what other problems get in the way, we need to keep walking through the doors. When conflicts seem to be too much... just keep walking through the doors. Keep coming to church. Keep plugging away at this beautiful ministry we call MCC Omaha. Just do it. Or as the words of our Affirmation of Faith expressed in closing: let us. Let Us. LET US.

For 31 years, MCC Omaha has served the GLBTISEtc community of Nebraska and Western Iowa. For 31 years, conflict has been a part of that service. And for 31 years, folks have continued to walk through those doors, keep on coming. Sure, faces change, but we keep on plugging. We keep coming back, and we keep trying. Maybe we'll change. We need to change, in order to grow. But change or no change, we'll keep plodding along. I believe that. I trust that as a promise.

The problem with conflict, and the thing about it that prevents people from coming back through those doors is that conflict is the ultimate in "ungrace". Conflict can only occur when forgiveness and repentance are absent.

We need to be careful in our interactions at church... and in all aspects of our lives. When wronged, when decisions are reached that we disapprove of, it's okay to express that. It's not okay to attack the ones making the decisions, the one who wrongs. That is the kind of conflict I see, though.

When wronged, it's okay to address that "Hey, you wronged me by..." And there can be only one valid response to that. "I'm sorry you felt wronged by my action." IMO, it's okay to express why an action wronged me... or why I took the action that wronged the other, but the paramount aspect of that exchange must be the expression of regret for wronging, and the followup forgiveness. When we don't do that, we fail to demonstrate God's Grace to the other, and to the rest of the community.

And when decisions are made that we disagree with, the answer isn't to walk away. The answer is to walk back in through those doors, and address the decision, and why you feel it's wrong. Perhaps if enough people calmly and lovingly were to express displeasure (oh, and pleasure TOO) with the actions taken, we could put aside the stupid, petty squabbling that seems to all too often fill the walls of our churches, places of work, places of play, homes.

It's the grace-filled interaction of people of faith in our churches that demonstrate God's grace to the world. It's a form of interaction that all too rarely finds form in action. At ANY place of worship.

I find that sad. I truly believe that is one of the best ways to demonstrate God's love... loving each other as God has loved us. It's called Grace.

Jeremy also called me to task (well, I THINK he was calling me to task) for my continued reference to my being too old....

Okay, let's set the record straight... (Yes, I use that word...) I am not old. I'm not too old for anything except perhaps well, we won't go THERE.

I am squarely, and centrally, located in the throes of Middle Age. Which means that I still have half my life ahead of me to accomplish. Mission. Whatever.

So, I'll try to tone down the "Oh, woe is me, I'm too old..." bull hunky. 'Cause that's what it is, and I know it.

John the Baptist and other Visionaries

Oh, man! I do NOT know what to make of this!

For background, our church has entered into another perennial transition. As part of this transition, our 31st Anniversary service was preached by the new Executive Director of the UFMCC. Her sermon was excellent!

Scott and I picked up this person at the airport, then took her out to eat with most of the members of our Board of Directors.

MCCs around the world do communion differently from church to church. However, one of the things I've seen that seems to be consistent is that when one goes forward to receive the eucharist (both 'species', by intincture) one is prayed with/for if one wants. At first, as a 'catholic-in-exile', this practice was pretty odd for me. Now it's quite normal. I digress.

I went forward for communion to the Executive Director Sunday. During the prayer (and this is what I don't know what to make of) she indicated that I reminded her of John the Baptist because of my passion and drive.

Oi. This is the guy who lost his head early in the ministry of Jesus, ate locusts and wore itchy clothes. I guess we do have some similarities. He lost his head, and I'm told I've lost my mind.

I told the director, as I drove her back to the airport, that I draw the line, though, at eating wild locusts (or tame ones, for that matter.) She suggested I be careful where I draw the line... God has a funny way of getting us to step across lines... especially if WE'RE the ones who draw them. Oh, and I prefer silk to horse hair ANY day! Or even cotton. Or wool... as long as it's the soft kind.

And, hey, aren't I a little old to be setting out on some kind of wild-eyed mission?

Aren't I?

Please. Please say I am too old. Please?