On the feast of John Muir

Cross posted at 50 Days of Fabulous 


Read
“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.” — John Muir

Reflect
John Muir’s home in Martinez, a National Historic Site, is 15 miles away from where I now live. I’ve never visited. Even though it’s free and open to the public. Even though it’s open 7 days a week. Even though it’s dog-friendly. Even though I’m writing a friggin’ reflection on John Muir.

“Oh, I’ll get to it,” I say. “But first there are so many important busy things I have to do. I have plenty of time to do fun stuff later.”

And strangely, the important busy things keep knocking on my door saying, “I’m important and busy. Do you know how important and busy I am? Meet my needs!” while the John Muir house sits 15 miles away inviting me to stop by, walk around the orchard with a dog or two, enjoy the scenery.

Important and Busy say, “Don’t stop now! Don’t ever stop! Keep your head down! Focus!”

The John Muir house says, stop for a moment, look around and something new, be refreshed, be replenished.

Is it the John Muir house that’s calling me? Or is it something else? Something more fundamental.

We do not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God, Jesus tells us. And weren’t the first words that came from the mouth of God the words of creation?

I promise to visit the John Muir house. Not because I ought to. Because I want to. Because I’ve been invited. Because Important and Busy can only give me bread. And because God created all of us for more than bread alone.

Respond
Schedule the time to do something you’ve been wanting to do to feed your spirit that you’ve been putting off. Then do it!

Extra personal response:
I went by the John Muir House on Saturday with every intention of poking around, albeit briefly. As it happens, they were having an Earth Day Celebration, which would have required parking the car a long way off since the regular parking lot was full/reserved for mobility impaired, and taking a shuttle, which with three dogs was not going to happen. So we just took the photo you see up there. I'll have to go back another time. I did, however, go for a great hike on the Franklin Ridge Trail in the Carquinez Regional Shoreline Park. It was wonderful.

Unto Us a Boy is Born [Feast of the Holy Innocents]

It's the Feast of the Holy Innocents today, which has a lot more resonance this year for me. This is the hymn that came to my mind shortly after the Newtown massacre for its verse about Herod -- "all the little boys he killed" -- what a horrible, horrible story.

And there's a strange thing going on in this story I hadn't thought about before: about how other people suffered when Jesus came into the world. Other innocent people. I don't have much more than that; it's something I'll need to ponder.

Here's the collect for today, which I think is powerful stuff:

We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

No subtitles today. This hymn isn't among Christmas' greatest hits. It is strange to be reminded of grief at Christmas, but important. The grief is there; burying it under layers of Christmas cheer is not to our benefit, I feel.

Unto us a boy is born!
The King of all creation,
came he to a world forlorn,
the Lord of every nation.

Cradled in a stall was he
with sleepy cows and asses;
but the very beasts could see
that he all men surpasses.

Herod then with fear was filled;
"A prince," he said, "in Jewry!"
All the little boys he killed
at Bethlehem in his fury.

Now may Mary's son, who came
so long ago to love us,
lead us all with hearts aflame
unto the joys above us.

Of the Father's Love Begotten

The Christmas sing-along continues with another hymn for you on this, the feast of St. John the Apostle, aka Man of Mystery.


Of the Father's love begotten,
ere the worlds began to be,
he is Alpha and Omega,
he the source, the ending he,
of the things that are, that have been,
and that future years shall see,
evermore and evermore!

O that birth for ever blessèd,
when the Virgin, full of grace,
by the Holy Ghost conceiving,
bare the Savior of our race;
and the Babe, the world's Redeemer,
first revealed his sacred face,
evermore and evermore!

O ye heights of heaven, adore him;
angel-hosts, his praises sing;
powers, dominions, bow before him,
and extol our God and King;
let no tongue on earth be silent,
every voice in concert ring,
evermore and evermore!

How to cook a Thanksgiving turkey

At last, a cooking professional who dares to tell the truth!



Tante Marie's Thanksgiving Recipes, including roast turkey with pan gravy.

Lent Madness update: Lentsanity!

One of the things about being away: I didn't keep up with the pandemonium, the maelstrom, the--oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Let's just go with "hype", shall we? swirling around Lent Madness, for which I am one of the celebrity bloggers.  Or, as Scott Gunn and Tim Schenck explain in this video, a "celebrity" blogger.  And don't think I won't remember the scare quotes when awards season comes around again.  I will cut you.  Though I have to say I'm mighty grateful that you pronounced my last name correctly in your last Monday Madness video! Impressive! (If you're wondering how to say it yourself, it is mentioned at about 9:30 on the video. Although as a true celebrity, I am first referred to simply as Laura, no last name required.)

 
Monday Madness -- February 13, 2012 from Forward Movement on Vimeo.

I am also looking forward to drinking a great deal of tea from a fabulous Lent Madness mug.

So don't forget: Lent Madness begins this Thursday!  Check out the bracket and place your picks for the Final Four.  Who do you think will win the it-would-be-coveted-if-coveting-were-not-a-sin Golden Halo? There's a strong group of 19th century American frontier types in the bracket; I'll be interested to see how they do.  Frankly, knowing Kenyon College folks, I think Philander Chase has a good chance to go far.

You can keep up with the madness by signing up to receive notifications of new posts by email. You can also like Lent Madness on Facebook. Check it out!

Various & Sundry, November 4

First of all, a head's up: a week from today is Nigel Tufnel Day. Or at least it ought to be. Why? "The numbers all go to eleven. Look, right across the board, eleven, eleven, eleven..."

If you haven't already disposed of your Jack O'lantern, I learned this week that you can donate them to wildlife centers where they can be used to feed the animals. Or maybe they have already been used to feed the local wildlife.

I was sorry to read that Prairie Home Companion sound effects man Tom Keith ("Mr. Tom Keith") died last week.

He was serious about silliness and worked hard to get a moo exactly right and the cluck too and the woof. His whinny was amazing — noble, vulnerable, articulate. He did bagpipes, helicopters, mortars, common drunks, caribou (and elands and elk and wapiti), garbage trucks backing up, handsaws and hammers, and a beautiful vocalization of a man falling from a great height into piranha-infested waters.

He will be a great loss to the show.

On the theme of death, I loved this Flickr feed of Ofrendas, shrines and altars for Dias de los Muertos. Really some amazing pictures. Here are just a couple of examples:                                                              



And finally, I got a phone call from my parents last weekend waxing rhapsodic over a concert they had just heard with Philippe Jaroussky. I can see why! Here's a video with the added bonus of being filmed in Versailles:



 A rather autumnal aria for a November evening. Enjoy!

Feast of William Porcher Dubose

Haven't done a feast day for a while, but I was drawn to the feast of William Porcher Dubose in part because I find it difficult. He was, after all, a chaplain to the Confederate Army. I'm not so sure that I find "it" difficult as I find him difficult.

I was directed via Twitter to this lovely post about Dubose, written a year ago by the Dean of the Cathedral in Atlanta, which says Dubose "was, if you will, 'entangled.' His lot in life was to live in several places at once. In fact, I believe that is the lot for all of us in life." So I've been thinking about that.

And then I read some of the introduction to Dubose's book The Gospel According to St. Paul, in which he writes,

The ultimate aim of each one of us should be not to save ourselves from error but to advance the truth. We may safely rely upon it that our truth will in the end be accepted and our error corrected. If I had been too much afraid of going wrong I should have made no progress in growing right; — who of us that has really thought or spoken may not say that of himself? For my own part, I have not merely traditionally believed but become personally convinced that there is a truth of the Scriptures and that there is a mind of the Church; and that each of these will take care of itself as against the infinite errors and vagaries of individual thinkers and writers. I have in my mind not only an implicit faith but a rational science or philosophy of these things, which at least satisfies myself and gives me security and rest from the fear of even my own shortcomings or too-far-goings. I do not hesitate to say then, on the one hand, that I hold what I hold subject to the revision and correction of the deeper truth of the Scriptures and the larger wisdom of the Church; and, on the other hand, that, leaving to these their function of final acceptance or rejection, I conceive it to be my duty to the truth, and my best service to them, to think the thoughts and express the conclusions, as best I may, which I have found to be to myself their own best interpretation.

I like that very much. I like especially that the fear of going wrong is far less important than the search for what is right. I see too often that people of faith are not true to what they actually believe because they fear it is "wrong." This is a comforting passage, knowing that advancing the truth takes precedence over saving ourselves from error.

But I still find him difficult. "It will all work out in the end"--fair enough; but people can be hurt in the meantime. It's not all just an intellectual exercise. I'm not sure what it is, but there's something in all of this that disturbs me.

Yes, we are entangled. But I think part of our work as Christians is to examine closely those things that entangle us. And not simply through our intellect, however impressive that may be, but through every part of ourselves.

No answers, but this is just about starting the conversation, not having a definitive answer. And, as Dubose says, the Church will guard against the vagaries of individual thinkers and writers, such as myself.

The feast of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman: a final rant

It's Margaret posted a lovely entry today on her blog and noted that it was my day, saying, "She loves to celebrate these four strong women --liberators and prophets."

It was so kind of her, but to be honest, I don't give a rats ass about celebrating these four women in the Episcopal church. In fact, I have some strong objections to lumping them together and I think Elizabeth Cady Stanton would hate being part of a feast of the church at all. But since we HAVE included them, it gets my goat that they are then abbreviated because the length of their names is inconvenient.

Do I know that's why it happened? No. I'm jumping to conclusions. I don't care. All I want is for the collect of their feast day to follow the same style as that of ALL OTHER feast days, and that means including their full names. That's all. I don't understand why that is so hard.

I'm tired of the Episcopal church being half-assed and claiming the heroes of other traditions to boost its own equality credentials--heroes who may not want to be part of this tradition at all. I grow weary of hagiography.

You'll be glad to know that this is my last year to go on and on about this. I find I just don't care much any more.

Women in full

It's time for my yearly campaign to get people to use the full names of Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Amelia Bloomer, Sojourner Truth, and Harriet Ross Tubman in the collect for their feast day, four weeks from today. Here's what I wrote about it last year.

The Facebook group I started to promote this now has 52 members, and you're welcome to join.

I also started a Twitter campaign using the hashtag #womeninfull.

I know it's not world peace, but it's about equality and respect, and it continues to rankle me that these women who were all for equality are referred to by a diminutive.

Here's a snippet from Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office (great book!) that explains better than I can why this is important to me.

Whenever I hear a woman answer the phone with only her first name, or leave a voice-mail message that says, "This is Sarah. Please leave your message...," it makes me wonder why she dropped her last name. It's comon among administrative staff--and entirely unnecessary. You will rarely hear a man answer the phone using only his first name*. It's a small but significant difference. Using only your first name relegates you, once again, to a childlike status. Ask a child his or her name and most often you get only the first name. The combination of your first and last name moves you to adulthood.

*The priestly equivalent of that is how often I hear male priests leave a voicemail as "Father X," while female priests often do not claim any title.

Equality occurs in the little things as well as the big ones. How can I believe that the church is interested in men and women being equal in the big things if it can't be equal in the small ones?

Please share the word.

A very brief excerpt from my sermon for Pentecost

Here's what struck me about the reading from the Acts of the Apostles:

• The disciples were all speaking different languages;
• The people who understood them were outside the place where they were meeting.

This struck me because so often in the Church I see us working very hard to get everyone to speak the same language and spending our time talking only to those already on the inside.

Ascension Day

Oh, how I wish that Jesus had just disappeared! That "ascending into heaven" image is one of the tough ones for me, knowing as we know now (as little as it is) about the vast expanse of interstellar space, and that heaven is not Up There.

And how many hopes were built upon that image of Jesus, and the promise that he "will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."

I have real trouble with "up in the air" Christianity. I'm sorry, but I just think it looks silly.

Strangely, the Luke-Acts account of the event are slightly different. Acts has Jesus "lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight." Definitely an up in the air moment. Luke, however, is a bit more nebulous, to use another cloudy word. Luke reads, "While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven." And lookee at this footnote: "Other ancient authorities lack 'and was carried up into heaven.'"

Even in the up in the air moment, there's a moment of vanishing into a cloud. It's not a straight shot through the atmosphere; there's a part of the Ascension that is hidden from our sight, obscured by a cloud. I can live with that. I can live with obscurity, with nebulousness.

But even more so, I'm grateful for the gospel passage that shows Jesus withdrawing rather than levitating. That's the image I'm going to hold on to on this Ascension Day. There is more than one way in which Jesus vanishes from our sight.

Plain Clothes Clergy: I'll be there on Easter.

I spent the weekend gardening, and it was lovely. On Sunday morning, I listened to the Palm Sunday Eucharist podcast from St. Laika's while I was digging rocks out of the bed in which I hope to plant corn. I loved it. It was just what I needed.

And now I am looking at Holy Week with dread. Particularly Easter Sunday. Because, to my astonishment, I find I will be one of the strangers who shows up on your door on Easter Sunday, and I fully expect to be judged for it.

I know because I remember doing it. Not overtly, and not (I hope) intentionally. But I wondered, who are all these people? Why do they come for Easter? And why don't they come any other time?

Well, now I know: at least some of us are there because we love the church enough to make the effort to attend on its major feast days even though there is absolutely nothing there that feeds us spiritually or emotionally. Even though we've been hurt by it in the past. Even though we feel excluded or out of place. Even though we think the music is dull or the preaching is bad or the building is ugly.

Last week on Facebook, I posted the link to an article about young adults and the church called Bored to Tears. The author, exploring the matter-of-fact way in which young adults told her that "Church is boring; spirituality isn't," notes, "if I’m honest, it’s been a very long time since church has felt particularly spiritual for me, either." I noted that I, too, am at a point where I drag myself to church. And sometimes don't.

The longer I'm out of the church as a paid member of its keeping, the more I appreciate that showing up is an act of sacrifice. Not to God, but to a church I still wish to support. A church that sometimes seems to think I owe it something, that "because the Bible says so" is reason enough to attend. That still thinks the church is the institution and doesn't see that the church is the work of the people of God.

Please know, if you see me, that I'm not there because I love God, though I do. I'm not there for the beautiful music, though I appreciate it. I'm not there for the preaching, though I will be very happy if the sermon is good. I am there out of a sense of duty. I wish it were otherwise, but that's the truth.

Image from ASBO Jesus http://asbojesus.wordpress.com/

On the Feast of the Annunciation

Cross posted from the Confirm not Conform blog.

It’s the feast of the Annunciation, exactly nine months before Christmas, when we mark the angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she will bear a child, the son of the Most High.

I think we all know intellectually that Mary was a teenager when this happened. I’m just not as sure that it occurs to us that Mary was, you know, a teenager. You know she must be, though. Here’s this angel standing in front of her and she has questions.

I do not get the “meekly bowed her head” image of Mary as she says, “Let it be with me according to your word.” It sounds rather imperious, if you ask me. What I fear is that we have created an image of meek acquiescence because we wish to promote that behavior in our own teens (or congregation members!). Meek acquiescence is easier to deal with than a teenager who upsets the status quo. But what teen did more to upset the status quo than Mary?

Mary shows us that when a teenager says yes to God what results may take a form that breaks the rules and changes everything. And all generations will call her blessed.

P.S. Happy birthday to Keisha Castle-Hughes who played Mary in The Nativity Story and who turned 21 yesterday!