Give that Woman a Chair!

Today I was at a lecture given by the new suffragan bishop of the diocese of Olympia. The lecture is part of an anuual lecture series started to help raise money for an endowed chair at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific. The Chair will be the first in the area of the study of Women in Ministry at any Episcopal seminary in the world.

The lecture reminded me of another conversation I had this week. I got into a brief conversation about the Mother's Union in different parts of the African continent. The members of the MU are the people who keep the church going, who take care of people, raise money for the parish, educate the children, and exert a great deal of influence on the local level. But these are the same people who are almost never talked about outside the local level. At diocesan events, the MU wouldn't have any say in the proceedings. They're the ones most responsible for the church continuing to exist in any real sense, and yet their story rarely makes it into any discussions about the institutional church. The focus is instead on the western missionaries and the first native clergy (all male of course). What were the women doing during this enterprise? If the current situation in Malawi can be universalized, the women are just as responsible for evangelism and church growth as the men, quite possibly more so. They are the ones who visit the sick in the hospital, they are the ones who bring their friends and neighbors into the church. When are these folks going to get a seat at the more formal institutional discussions?

The other thing was that the speaker asked us to reflect on who had been important in our own spiritual development, to reflect on who in our lives deserved a chair for their encouragement of our own ministry. I couldn't help but think of my mother. She is the saintliest person I have ever met, and most of her life has been spent taking care of others. She's the second of four children, the oldest daughter. Her youngest sister died of a brain tumor when she was very young (preteen). I'm not sure what kind of effect this had on my mother...She did very well in school, graduating as valedictorian of her class but found herself with limited options when she graduated. The choices were to teach or be a nurse. She chose the latter as she has always been deathly afriad of public speaking. She moved away from home against her parents' wishes and started nurses training. During her training she met a seminarian and they dated for a while before getting engaged and eventually marrying. They started a family relatively quickly. That family eventually blossomed into a crop of eight sons. That alone I think qualifies her for sainthood, but in the midst of raising kids and working part-time she found the time to feed her family and some bits and pieces of the neighborhood as well. She volunteered lots of time in the church from sewing vestments to teaching Sunday school to organizing fundraisers and all sorts of things. As more of us left to live on our own, she became even more involved in volunteering as a hospice nurse, as a bible study member and leader at the local correctional center, and as an organizer for the local Habitat for Humanity group. She also served as a listening ear for various people in the community who were lonely or depressed. She gave and gives of herself continually, and she never complains or says a bad word about anybody. She may think a few, but if she does, she never lets on. As far as I'm concerned, my mom deserves a chair not only as an example of teacher of the value of women, but as an example of Christian love and devotion and care that anyone preparing for the priesthood would do well to model. She was never ordained, and I'm fairly certain she never felt that to be her call, but when she heard her call she followed it willingly and boldly, embodying her faith in the world.

So mom, here's to the chair you will always hold in my life.

Tag...Finally...

I got tagged by Heather and I am finally getting around to answering the questions associated with said "tag". Needless to say this whole tagging thing is new to me, but so is most everything or so it seems.

How Many Books Do You Own?
I really have no idea, not enough for certain, but if I was forced to guess I probably own around 250 currently. This is with continual purging as I have not lived in the same place for two consecutive years since I was 18.

What was the last book you bought?
I haven't the faintest idea. So many of the books I have been reading lately come from library paperback exchanges that I would be hard pressed to remember the last book I bought. My best guess is Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott which I purchased at the Tattered Cover in Denver on New Year's Day.

What is the last book you read?
I just finished several books including A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, and The Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving.

Name five books that mean a lot to you.
I have a hard time putting a finger on the books that mean a lot to me, but I'll give it my best shot...
1) Meditations on First Philosophy by Rene Descartes: I read this for the first time when I was Junior in High School and then again for a Modern Philosophy class in college. The first two meditations are amazing and can still bend even the most cartesian minds, also began my love affair with philosophy...
2)Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis: something I read and reread and in which I still find enjoyment and the occasional eye-opener
3)Cannery Row by John Steinbeck: a short novel that hit home with me especially because I read it while living in Malawi, a scathing critique of materialist culture without ever being preachy and a love for nature like few others
4)Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut: Took things I took for granted and forced me to look at them in a new way, part of my introduction to the horrors of war, also read so much vonnegut I'm not actually sure what was the most influential (other front runners included Cat's Cradle, Hocus Pocus, and Player Piano)
5)Anything by Anne Lamott: she has a great sense of humor and is a keen observer of human relationships, particularly her own

And I am not going to tag anyone as I don't particularly mind being "it" allows me more time to relax when I know no one is chasing me.

Brief Word from the Author

The most recent posts on this blog have been sitting on my computer for some time and are therefore slightly out of date. I apologize for any confusion this may cause the reader. Coming soon: Book reviews.

Thanks Much,
Son of a Preacher Man

Travels

I just returned from a seminary visit and admission interviews out in Berkeley. Overall the weekend was very relaxing, moving at a fairly gentle pace throughout. We arrived late Thursday night and entered the city in darkness, seeing very little of our surroundings. I found this extremely disorienting the next morning. Throughout the day, I had a persistent feeling of discomfort that stemmed almost entirely from geographical uncertainty.

I think it has a lot to do with flying. I started off in the desperately flat Midwest and several hours later, was deposited in the rolling hills of the bay area. We took the BART into Berkeley, traveling part of the way underground. We were picked up at the station and deposited just outside of the guest house where we were staying.

When I woke up in the morning, I new how to get to the bathroom, breakfast, and the chapel, but that was about it. I wasn’t sure where I was in relation to the ocean or anything. I felt somewhat like I had been blindfolded, spun around and set down at random.

Traveling by air is a bit surreal. It is foreign to the evolutionary and cultural consciousness of humanity. Travel should have continuity and clear vision. Instead, air travel offers dissonance and fracture, dumping the frozen flatlander into lush mists and steep hills with preparation much less warning.

All it took to reorient myself was to put my feet on the ground and walk, to move about through my temporary environment, exploring its relations to what I already know. The more I moved about, the more connected I felt to the place. It ceased to be a disconnected point, floating in empty space. Instead, I found myself grounded, firmly attached to the earth I have always experienced. Connected in different ways, to be sure, but connected nonetheless.

I look forward to exploring the area more fully, to rediscovering myself in all the ways a new place allows. In the meantime, I will do my best to enjoy the transition from mostly moderate temperatures to the wet whiteness of freshly fallen snow.

A New Car

I was walking to the train station after work today. As I crossed the street and stepped towards the small stairway leading up the embankment on the other side, I saw a rather sleek looking vehicle parked by the curb. It was a rather new BMW coupe, and for whatever reason, I have always had a love affair with these German immigrants.

I glanced quickly and walked on by, not wanting to be that weird guy who stops and walks around the car, viewing it from every angle. Stepping up into the station, I heard my early high school self telling a neighbor and mother of a good friend that when I had the money, I would buy myself a brand new BMW sedan. I’ve always preferred sedans to the zippy little sports models. My friend’s mother looked me in the eye and said simply, “No, you won’t.”

I’m not sure I completely believed her when she said it. I really liked BMW’s and I really couldn’t see any good reason why I wouldn’t buy one if I had the money. Granted, the possibility of ever having enough money seemed unlikely, but if I had it, certainly I would use it for something I wanted.

Remembering my assertion and my neighbor’s equally certain retort, I could only chuckle at how right she was, and is for that matter. I may occasionally want such an extravagance, but if I had the money I now see I would be more likely to buy the most fuel efficient vehicle I could find. It isn’t that I am an immensely practical person. I do plenty of things that don’t make a whole lot of “practical” sense from using two strokes to write every lowercase “e” to spending a disproportionate amount of my income on eating out and treating friends to dinner.

The fact of the matter is, I would never be comfortable in a BMW. It would carry with it more worries than pleasures. I’m sure it would feel great in a high speed turn and provide “the ultimate driving experience”, but that does little to make all the added worries disappear. Once I had something like that, I would be afraid to use it for fear that I would scratch, taint, or in some way devalue what I had just spent a small fortune on. Also, I would be continually concerned with what the vehicle said about me. We assume all sorts of things about people who drive BMW’s, and many of them are not complimentary. I would constantly be on guard, defending myself, explaining to anyone who would listen that I was not that kind of person, whatever kind of person a BMW driver might be.

Often people see things in us that which we refuse to see in ourselves. Whether through willful ignorance or some other form of blindness, we often see everything and everyone but ourselves. We need each other for a variety of reasons. Absolute autonomy is not an option for social animals such as ourselves. No one person can know themselves completely. We require the sight of others to see ourselves and evaluate ourselves in a newer, clearer light.

Bedtime Reading

It was recently pointed out to me that my bedtime reading is a bit strange. Over the last week at bedtime, I have read a bit out of each of the following books: The Elements from A-Z, Dr. Tatiana’s Sex Advice for All Creation, and Joshua. The first in the list is an excellent reference book on all the elements known at the time of its publication including a brief history of each, relevant physical properties, medical/biological importance, and interesting facts (my favorite bit as I am big fan of useless information).

The title of the second book is a bit misleading, mostly because people get stuck at the word’s “sex advice” and end up in a tizzy. The book is written by a professor of evolutionary biology whose specialty is sexual evolution (please note that this has very little to do with the “sexual revolution”, or maybe it does and I’m just not seeing the connection). The best part about the book is that the author writes the entire thing as a sex advice column for all sorts of interesting creatures, mostly insects. Let me tell you, some of these creatures have pretty sordid sex lives. At its best, it is both extremely funny and highly informative. Unfortunately, it may not be funny enough to hold the interest of anyone other than those with a fair amount of interest in evolutionary biology. I discovered this the hard way, by reading bits out loud. For whatever reason, others didn’t find them quite as funny as I did.

The last is a book about a guy named Joshua who is really Jesus. As an exploration of what Jesus might be like if he were hanging around in our own time and place, it is quite interesting with its own strong insights as well as its own inconsistencies.

The real question is what’s the connection? If anyone has suggestions, I’ll be happy to consider them. I am currently at a loss as to how they are related except for the fact that I find all of them engaging.

My favorite part of all this is that I am also reading other books. These are just the one’s I read before falling asleep. On top of these, I am reading a few novellas by Henry James and a book on writing by Anne Lamott. This doesn’t include brief forays into newspapers, magazines, and online sources. Even worse, I don’t feel like I read as much as I would like. Especially lately, I always feel like I have something else I ought to be doing: writing a sermon, filling out an application, applying for financial aid, loading the dishwasher, etc.

I watched a bit of a movie the other day while doing some ironing and that was the first time in a week or two that I had even used the television. I can’t say I miss it. Since returning from the other side of the world, I find myself increasingly frustrated by television. Generally it has nothing to with the programming. Some of it I enjoy, some of it I don’t. Just like with books, I don’t expect to enjoy it all. My biggest frustration is with advertising. I find it tedious. Without even thinking about all the ways in which advertising is bad (creating wants where none existed or were necessary before, creating fear, pushing forward a lifestyle based solely on consuming, etc.) I still can’t stand the majority of it. Occasionally advertisers are creative and entertaining, putting together spots that are so entertaining that you forget that they are trying to sell you something, but mostly the ads are formulaic, even more so than the most horribly clichéd movie plots.

So at bedtime, I’ll stick to my crazy, geeky hodgepodge of books where the commercial interruptions are limited to my need to urinate, sleep, or drink a bit more water.

Dreams & the like

For whatever reason, I am not someone who typically remembers dreams. I usually sleep through them and have little or no recollection of them upon awaking. I think it has something to do with my biological clock. I don’t generally need an alarm as I can nearly always wake up when I need to by reminding myself before laying down that I have to be up by time x. Due to a strange sleeping schedule, I seem to be remembering the occasional dream a bit better than I usually do. Still, the dreams are rarely alike. They seem to tie into everyday life in some way while managing to be nothing like life.

To me, the most interesting of the dreams was one I tend to think of as ultra geeky. Most people are dreaming about showing up at meetings naked or falling for an eternity. Instead, I find myself dreaming about non-linear dynamics. This is particularly funny because I am not a mathematician or physicist, with good reason. With all the snow falling here, I had a bit of it on the brain. Yet my dreams didn’t have anything to do with shoveling or walking through the stuff, but instead with how the snow moves and collects as a result of a variety of conditions. I found myself dreaming about the way in which snow drifts. I was frantically trying to formulate a non-linear equation which would describe the formation of snow drifts. This process would depend on a whole host of factors including temperature, wind speed & direction, surface variation, etc. In the dream, I had it all figured out except for one thing. I didn’t know the “sticking coefficient” of snow or its relation to temperature. For example, I was certain there was a well-defined coefficient that would tell me how strongly snow would stick to itself and other surface objects at varying temperatures (snow near its freezing point is “wet” and therefore adheres to itself quite strongly as opposed to colder temperatures where the snow is “drier” and does not have much affinity for itself, preferring to blow about, blinding motorists). I am going to look into this and see if anyone is actually researching the subject. That would make the whole thing more entertaining, well for geeky old me anyway.

My 2nd Sermon, Ever

3rd Sunday after Epiphany
January 23rd, 2005

Friday night I am heading up the stairs to go to bed. It is later than I usually go to sleep and I’m exhausted from a terribly long day. I had just been subjected (albeit somewhat willingly) to several hours of board games, several of which I was particularly bad at. I just wanted to go to bed. As I’m standing there, telling everyone good night, one of my housemates walks in from shoveling the drive. Her face is bright red, her hair full of snow, and from my vantage point I can’t even tell that the driveway has been shoveled. The next thing I know, she is asking me to shovel the sidewalks when I get up in the morning. I quickly agree as the morning seems pretty far off and there is always the possibility that a freak heat wave will melt everything before I crawl out of bed in the morning. At 7 o’clock the next morning, I find myself crawling out of bed with the full realization of what I agreed to do just dawning on me. I said I would shovel the sidewalks…why on earth did I agree to that? Nevertheless, I dragged myself out of bed and braved the cold floors, using all my powers of reasoning to keep myself from just going back to bed. What was the point of shoveling? It would almost certainly snow more and then all that work would be rendered useless. I go downstairs and plod around the kitchen for a bit, unable to decide whether I should eat breakfast and then shovel or shovel first and eat later. After much deliberation, shovel first, eat later wins out. I lace up my boots, zip up my coat, and brace myself for that first step out into a glistening, winter wonderland. I grab a broom, and quickly sweep off the steps. Out comes the shovel and the real fun begins. I work my way down the driveway and out to the street cursing my lot in life and longing for another few hours in bed. Now it’s on to the sidewalks, but by this time I am getting quite tired. I change my hands around every few shovelfuls and continually think about how great it would be to be somewhere else doing something else, how wonderful it would be just to leave everything the way it is and enjoy the natural splendor from a comfortable room with a big window, and perhaps a nice fire. All this speculation just makes the work go more slowly, as does my hand-changing routine. I look around jealously as neighbors chug right along with their snow-blowers, making quick work of some of the worst drifts. “God,” I say to myself. “Is there really any good reason for me to be out here?” No booming voice, no cloud from the sky answering, not that I would have noticed as I was pretty busy imagining a nice cup of cocoa to go with that big window and crackling fire. I continue shoveling and the work is nearing its end. I have gotten all the outer sidewalks; all that’s left is a short little sidewalk that connects to one of the side doors of the house. I got it shoveled, just a bit of snow to clear off the side stairs and I’m finished. Hallelujah! Thank you Jesus!

Then I hear a voice saying, “Excuse me.” I turn around to find the source and realize that the voice has a body to go with it, and not only that, but it turns out that the voice was addressing me. The voice says, “I live over there in that building across the street. Please, help me out?” Without thinking, I say, “Sure.” The voice tells me, “I have to get to work and my car is snowed in. Could you help me get it out?” Again, I hear myself saying, “Sure.”

So it turns out that “snowed in” was a bit of an understatement. The snowplows had packed snow tightly up against the side of the car, and I couldn’t see any of the wheels. I glanced quickly, up and down the street, looking for all those neighbors with their snow blowers. Not a soul out anymore, not a snow blower to be seen.

I got to shoveling, and to my surprise, the work went more quickly than any of my sidewalk shoveling. In less than fifteen minutes, I had the car unpacked and the voice was able to drive away.

I finished clearing off the stairs and went inside. Immediately, it began to snow. Hard. Twenty minutes later, all my work was covered over again.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus says two things. The first is: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” The second, seemingly unrelated is: “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

If we were all to sit down and have a chat. We could all probably agree on what the second thing was about. It’s a call, right. More specifically it’s Jesus calling the first disciples. Nothing here that we didn’t already learn in Sunday school. But the first statement, we’re none too sure about that.

Why don’t we break it into parts and see where that gets us? The Greek word for repent literally means “to change one’s Mind.” But, as it is a word grounded in the life, faith and history of the Hebrew people, it carries with it an added layer, that of repentance as turning and returning to God. This is not merely saying, “I’m sorry,” but a reorientation of ourselves in response to God. It is an action, a movement that brings us face to face with the God who has been right there with us the whole time, the God who is with us always.

It is in this turn and return that we see the kingdom of heaven that Jesus proclaims. The kingdom of heaven is a “great light”, a light that has dawned upon us who live in darkness, who walk around in blindness. Like the people spoken of in Isaiah, we often walk about in darkness, living in a land of deep darkness. We become consumed by our fears and worries. We see devastation and destruction, such as the tsunami, all around us. We see people suffering on the streets in the freezing cold. We hear about war and conflict the world over. We feel the pain of loss and often find ourselves drowning in pools of regret. And to top it all off, we have Jesus here telling us the kingdom of heaven has come near. It sounds pretty crazy, downright foolish as Paul says to the Corinthians.

But again, we hear Jesus’ voice. Calling to us, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” We turn and look at him with a million things to say, to tell him off, to tell him how hurt and upset and angry we are about this mess that HE created. We turn and the words stick in our throat. We turn and see Jesus standing before us. In succession we see him emaciated, blue with cold, ravaged by disease, and those scars, those cruel scars, on his hands, his feet, his side. His face is wet with tears, yet his eyes smile lovingly upon us. He says, “Turn, for I have come near, and am near, and will always be near.” Turn again, return. He says to us, “I bear this, all of this for you. I bear it so you can be free. I bear it so you can do my work in the world. I bear it so you can pour out my love to a fallen world. I bear it so you can share the story of my transforming love.”
Jesus’ word to us calls us out of our own concerns and troubles, to see the world in his light, God’s light. For a brief time we are left alone with that new light, that peace and joy we find so welcome.

Then Jesus comes walking towards us, from way off in the distance. He walks slowly, steadily towards us. We are busy working out the ordinary, mundane tasks of our everyday existence. Perhaps we see him coming, perhaps we don’t. He walks into our place of work, our office, our cubicle, and he says, “Follow me.” Without thinking, without asking any questions, we follow. We don’t know where we’re going or what we’re supposed to be doing. We just follow and see where it leads.

Yesterday morning, I finished clearing off the stairs and went inside. Immediately, it began to snow. Hard. Twenty minutes later, all my work was covered over again. I sat down at the kitchen table exhausted, but even worse frustrated at the futility of all that I had done. The sidewalks and the driveway were still snowed over, it was still cold, and I was even more tired than when the whole business began. Nothing had changed.

Then something clicked. I heard a voice at the back of my mind say “Excuse me,” and I remember turning. I again hear that voice saying, “I live over there in that building across the street. Please, help me out?” but it sounds different this time. Instead of a plea, I hear a command. “Follow me.” It is then and only then that I realize that something has changed. That person whose voice I heard, that person has driven away to work. That person is no longer stuck.

Hear Jesus’ commands anew. Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven has come near. Follow me. Examine your daily life, your personal experience and see it in God’s light. Transformed. Renewed. Anything but ordinary. Where has God called you? Where is God calling you? Turn. Follow.

Amen.

Diverse Subjects

Two things for the record today.

I played basketball in an intramural league today. I am rather out of shape and that was evident from the way the game went. I, and the rest of the team, came out playing hard, running all over the place, out-hustling guys a good deal younger than us. By the time the second half rolled around, we were all huffing and puffing, but with only one reserve on the bench we didn't have any choice but to keep moving. We ended up winning but by a much smaller margin than we led by at half-time. My quadriceps feel like jelly since I rarely work out and don't spend much time in a defensive slide position. I had a good time though and am looking forward to the rest of the season.

From the New Yorker from "Sixteen Tons of Fun: Eric Idle brings The Holy Grail to Broadway" published for Dec. 20 & 27, 2004

"There are one or two deliberately Broadwayish-type songs," (Eric Idle) went on. "But that's the joy of it, that Python thing. Each thing we do also mocks the form that it's in. The books, the records, the films--that's part of what we do. We recognize the form that we're in. That's postmodernism, isn't it? And I think we were there before postmodernism. We precede...was it Deru--- What's his name, the French guy?"
"Derrida?"
"Right. We precede him. In fact, I think he stole his stuff from 'The Holy Grail.' You know, that movie is still playing in France. There's apparently a thirty-seat cinema in Paris that's played 'The Holy Grail' for three decades. That explains a lot."

First of all, I adore Monty Python and am very upset that there is no way I can afford tickets to see the new musical. It sounds fantastic and has a great cast. More importantly though, I now have a good excuse to go to Paris, to see The Holy Grail on the big screen. I bet it would even be funny dubbed, possibly funnier. I wonder what a Brit faking a French accent sounds like dubbed in French. I bet that's the whole reason the French like the movie, anything where the Gauls get the better of those prim and proper Brits.

New Title

It has only been a couple of days and I am already changing the title. The reason for this, I never really liked the old title, and the joke doesn't really work too well in text format. "Son of a Preacher Man" is the phrase engraved on the back of my ipod (a Christmass gift from my fiancee) and is also an accurate description of me. More later.