Various & Sundry: Because I couldn't avoid the news

It's been a hell of a week, hasn't it? And to think, just a week ago I pointed out that reading the news is bad for you and I was going to try to stop reading it so much. Yeah. I think the Onion said it best:

According to a new poll by the Pew Research Center, when reached for comment on this week, 93 percent of Americans responded “Okay, enough’s enough here, you have seriously got to be kidding me with this week,” with 84 percent saying “Is it Sunday yet? What? How in the hell are we only at Thursday? What the hell is going on?” and 100 percent of Americans responding “No, no, go ahead, just pile some more horrific shit on this hellish shitshow of a week. Have at it.”

Actually, I'd be just as happy not piling anything more on. But I've got to say, Tony Gwynn Jr.'s excellent response to a heckler is something that I can see being applicable to the nasty voices in the world -- and in one's head as well.


And this notecard captures the week perfectly, and in the most ladylike way:

I also drew some strength from this lovely reflection on breaking isolation.

And from this report from someone who was at the scene of the Boston bombing and saw many beautiful gestures of love and kindness.

And 20 Gentle Quotations from Mister Rogers.

And Patton Oswalt's perfect summation:

I hope you are well, wherever you are, and finding strength and courage within and love and support from the people around you. As Ellen DeGeneres says every day, be kind to one another.

Various & Sundry: My Miserable Pony Takes the GOEs, Gains Wisdom

I wasn't quite sure what to make of this tweet:

@vapriestess @karanslade That may be my new code phrase for something. Don't mess with Buttercup Sprinkles.
— Laurie B. (@Drtysxyministry) January 5, 2013

Until I saw this:


OK! Now that we've got that out of the way...

The General Ordination Exams are this week, testing potential Episcopal priests on subjects that I cannot recall at the moment. The Crusty Old Dean is having quite a time of it, expounding on each question, and for Episcopal geekery, he cannot be beat.

I am so glad I will never have to take those again. I realized today that they reminded me (to expand the field of geekery) of the Kobayashi Maru simulation, given to Star Fleet Academy cadets to put them in a no-win situation. Unless you're Kirk.



In other movie news, Buzzfeed offers A "Les Miz" Character Guide. For example:

And since I'm doing lots of videos today, here's that video that's been making the rounds of a family falling apart after seeing Les Miz. I fall apart just watching the trailer, so believe me, I'm laughing with them.

Oh, and for all you GOE-takers out there, and others as well, I offer you James Martin's 12 things I wish I knew at 25.  Probably especially 7, 8, and 9.

1. First up: Stop worrying so much! It's useless. (I.e. Jesus was right.) 

2. Being a saint means being yourself. Stop trying to be someone else and just be your best self. Saves you heartache. 

3. There's no right way to pray, any more than there's a right way to be a friend. What's "best" is what works best for you. 

4. Remember three things and save yourself lots of unneeded heartache: You're not God. This ain't heaven. Don't act like a jerk. 

5. Your deepest, most heartfelt desires are God's desires for you. And vice versa. Listen. And follow them. 

6. Within you is the idea of your best self. Act as if you were that person and you will become that person, with God's grace. 

7. Don't worry too much about the worst that can happen. Even if it happens, God is with you, and you can handle it. Really. 

8. You can't force people to approve of you, agree with you, be impressed with you, love you or even like you. Stop trying. 

9. When we compare, we are usually imagining someone else's life falsely. So our real-life loses out. I.e. Compare and despair. 

10. Even when you finally realized the right thing, or the Christian thing, to do, it can still be hard to do. Do it anyway. 

11. Seven things to say frequently: I love you. Thank you. Thank you, God. Forgive me. I'm so happy for you! Why not? Yes. 

12. Peace and joy come after asking God to free you -- from anything that keeps you from being loving and compassionate.

Various & Sundry, too random to categorize

Sorry I'm so late! Today, I was working on the revisions for Confirm not Conform Adult and came across this great TED talk of Karen Armstrong explaining the Charter for Compassion. There are worse ways to spend 20 minutes.

Anyway...let's see what else I've got here. It's fairly minimal this week. I guess I've been doing other things.

I have found a new blogger that I like a lot: one Lance Mannion by name. This week he had an interesting post proposing that "the object of liberalism is to create more conservatives." It's a fascinating argument, which you'll just have to read for yourself. I'm still pondering how this actually works in real life.

In election news, I was very glad to see Greg Sargent ask Can we please talk about torture?

The executive order banning torture was the very first one signed by Obama, to improve America’s image abroad, explicitly repudiating a major policy of his GOP predecessor. The Romney camp is internally debating whether to rescind that order, which would represent a return to those policies. There are only five weeks until the election, and we still don’t know what Romney will do on an issue with far reaching moral and international implications.

I'll be watching to see if this comes up at any of the presidential debates.

One of the people who played a role in the Supreme Court's ruling on the Affordable Care Act died this week. Jennifer Jaff, who had Crohn's Disease and was an advocate for the chronically ill, wrote an amicus brief in one of the cases brought to the court, arguing against insurance policies denying coverage to those with pre-existing conditions.

After the Supreme Court ruling, Ms. Jaff told The Hartford Courant: “I live and breathe chronic-illness law, and in my estimation this is the most important civil rights advance for people with chronic illnesses ever. There can never be equality if we can’t get health insurance.”

I can't imagine what it must have felt like to her to see that law upheld before she died. She was 55.

On a completely different note, Peacebang offers some helpful suggestions for cultivating a personal sense of style, something I'm working on. Here's the essence:

Style can be beautiful, pretty, dramatic, shocking, erotic, and many other things. Whatever it is, it is mindful. It is intentional. It is knowing. The stylish person knows a few things: 

1. What they love.
2. What kind of impact they want to create with their apparel, accessories and personal grooming.
3. How to use fashion to communicate their inner vision of who they are.

She then goes on to give some exercises to help you do just that.

Here's someone with a definite personal sense of style. Well, point of view, at any rate.

And with that, I hope you have a lovely weekend.

On the death of the midweek Bible study

Doesn't every church look like this?

A couple of people I know on Facebook have posted a link to an article in the Christian Century from an Episcopal priest in Minnesota who finally threw in the towel and stopped offering midweek Bible studies and programs and worship. I was totally with her up until the point where she diagnoses the issue.

First she writes,

When I ask why people don’t come, the answer almost always is time. They have good intentions, but their lives are so full. So they tend to use their precious free time only for things that they really care about, which tend to be things that offer immediate good feelings. They flock to tutor at the local elementary school, to work for civil rights for LGBT people, to serve free meals for the hungry. And they love to eat with friends—the church’s social calendar is filled with dinners, dances and parties. The congregation is also growing, and quickly. 

But the idea of having leisurely conversations about Jesus is just, well, too slow. The only adult formation things that have been in any way successful are sermon podcasts and daily e-mailed bits of wisdom, prayer or scripture. 

Ummm...excuse me, but didn't, you know, Jesus eat with friends? Didn't his followers generally "do things they really care about"? Does, perhaps, healing people offer "immediate good feelings"? Does she notice who, in the gospels, spent all of their time in "leisurely conversations" about the Scriptures?

And what's this about "good intentions," as if the things these folks are doing do not measure up? Does she really think that working for civil rights for LGBT people offers "immediate good feelings"? Is it really a problem that they use their "precious free time" to tutor rather than attend another church service? Can she not see that if they are tutoring children, working for justice, or feeding the hungry, they are living the gospel? Why is she so concerned that they're not coming to mid-week Bible study when it seems they have clearly absorbed what the Bible teaches and what Jesus calls us to do?

She writes that she is working hard "to give up the picture I have in my head about what a church is supposed to look like: people sitting around on couches in the parish hall, Bibles open." Where does this picture come from? It doesn't match any actual experience of church I've ever had, and I grew up Evangelical with an expectation of Daily Quiet Times.

But then it hit me: This is her dream and the picture in her head because THIS IS WHAT SHE LIKES AND WANTS TO DO! And that, I think, is the core problem many of us in the church have. The people who enjoy these types of programs and midweek services are, you know, pastors. That's why we went to seminary. That's what feeds our souls (and, I dare say, offers us "immediate good feelings"). Most people are not pastors and we keep thinking that if we just offer them THIS, they'll suddenly get how wonderful it is. THEY'RE NOT GOING TO! These programs and services and Bible studies feed the people in our parish who are like us, who are pastors. I believe there's something in that Bible we study about how "not all are called to be pastors." Maybe we should pay attention.

Sermon: Eenie, meenie, meinie, moe (abridged)

Preached at St. Luke's Rossmoor, 7 Easter 2012

This story from Acts is about the first major decisions the disciples need to make without Jesus there: whom should they choose to take the place of Judas. They have two candidates, both of whom have been with the group since Jesus' baptism up through the Ascension. Which one should they pick--Justus, or Matthias? And they go with what I think is the cheapest form of decision making they could use: they flip a coin.

It strikes me as very odd that this story is in here at all because you never hear about Matthias again. Was he any good? What did he do? Maybe the early church knew of him, but nothing more is said. And so the thing that stands out about this story is the fact that the disciples chose gambling as their discernment tool of choice.

But as I thought about that, I thought there’s something lovely and humble about the fact that they left this to chance. I mean, it’s a big decision: they are choosing one of the leaders. This could have devolved into factions from the start: the Justus faction and the Matthias faction. They could have argued the merits of each and pointed out signs that indicated that one or the other of them was the one God really wanted. But they didn’t. They said, in essence, here are two guys, we like them both, we’re not going to pretend to know everything about them. Since we’re not wise enough to choose, let’s hand over the authority we have to choose to God, with the faith that God works through forces beyond our control.

Sometimes we don’t know God’s will. Many times (in my experience) we beat ourselves up over that, about how we need to know God’s will so we can make the right decisions and do the right things. But as I said, there’s something humble and beautiful in admitting we don’t know God’s will. Of course we don’t always know God’s will; we’re not God.

Or it may be that we are not expected to know God’s will in the specifics, but only in the general outlines. The disciples knew they needed a replacement for Judas; that they knew. They knew it needed to be somebody who was with them throughout Jesus’ ministry. But the particular…that was not as crucial.

Such a good lesson. So often we get caught up in the specifics. Should I move to this place or that one? Should I volunteer here or spend my time there? Does our church need to do this or that? And we scan everything about them to see if there’s a clue about God’s will, agonizing when we don’t know for sure, sure if we were only more faithful we would know.

But maybe it doesn’t work that way. Maybe we don’t have to know the specifics. Maybe God’s will goes deeper than that so when the time comes to choose, the choice doesn’t matter so much.

I love the Psalm for today, that image of those people who delight in the law of the Lord:

They are like trees planted by streams of water,
Bearing fruit in due season, with leaves that do not wither;
Everything they do shall prosper.

Here’s what I love about that image: when you have a fruit tree, you don’t worry about whether this peach or that one is a good one; you just pick any one that’s ripe and you eat it. It will be just as good for you as the other peach you didn’t eat. But it all depends on whether the whole tree is decent.

So maybe the question for us to ask ourselves is: is the tree decent? Are we based in the love of God overall? Are we generous? Are we a source of comfort? Or are we overall bitter? Are we selfish? Are we a source of hurt? Because if we are, it doesn’t really matter which peach we pick; it’s still going to be small and hard and pithy.

But let me tell you something: from what I know of you, and from what Anne says of you, I’m thinking you’re planted by streams of water. In which case, don’t sweat the small stuff. Don’t worry about whether this choice or that one is the one and only perfect Part of God’s Eternal Plan. Pick a peach—any peach—that seems good and ripe and delicious to you. Bite into it. Enjoy.

Evelyn Underhill 2012!

I am completely partisan in today's Lent Madness match-up between Monnica and Evelyn Underhill. Let's go Evelyn! I've gone so far as to bribe encourage voters by letting them know you can get a FREE Kindle download of Underhill's book, Practical Mysticism (with the great subtitle "A Little Book for Normal People").

One of the things I love about Evelyn is her insistence that mysticism is not about getting away from it all; instead, "Mysticism is the art of union with Reality."

"Because mystery is horrible to us, we have agreed for the most part to live in a world of labels."  In her view, mysticism is about getting beyond the superficial labels.

It's also about more than "the life of my own inside."  There's a great, but longish, quote from Underhill I wish I could have included in the write-up for today, but it was just too long.  (The last quote in the write-up is drawn from this passage.)  Here's an excerpt:

My spiritual life is not something specialised and intense; a fenced-off devotional patch rather difficult to cultivate, and needing to be sheltered from the cold winds of the outer world. Nor is it an alternative to my outward, practical life. On the contrary, it is the very source of that quality and purpose which makes my practical life worth while. The practical life of a vast number of people is not, as a matter of fact, worth while at all. It is like an impressive fur coat with no one inside it. One sees many of these coats occupying positions of great responsibility. Hans Andersen's story of the king with no clothes told one bitter and common truth about human nature; but the story of the clothes with no king describes a situation just as common and even more pitiable.

So vote Evelyn!  We need saints who encourage us to deal with Reality and not just labels. Practical Mysticism all the way!

Updated late afternoon: Someone in the comments on Lent Madness said "Generally, I have a difficult time with English mystics (yes, even blessed Julian!), but Underhill makes sense to me." This made me realize that most mystics write about "this is what I saw;" Evelyn writes, "Here is how you can look--and why it's worthwhile to do so."

Various and Sundry, September 4

The reason I'm so late with the V&S this week is because on Friday I had to make an EMERGENCY trip to Sebastopol to get Gravenstein apples after reading this article about how those big bully grapevines are pushing those thin-skinned apples around. Here's a picture:

I have Gravenstein apples and you don't! ha ha ha!

But I did want to fill you in on a couple of things.

I loved this fabulous flowchart to help you decide which baseball team to root for. First option: "I have a soul." If no, you root for the Yankees. If yes, move to the next option. Apparently, I'm a Colorado Rockies fan.

This was written for writers, but is true of so many things: about how we need to focus on goals rather than milestones. Meaning this:

Too many people, when they create lists of goals they’d like to achieve in their year, choose to list milestones over which they have little control. Saying you’d like to sell a novel as a ‘goal’ is possibly not in your control. The market may not be right. You may not have written a good novel. But you can certainly somewhat control writing a novel and submitting it.

It's a very practical application of the Serenity Prayer.

In social media, I really liked this blog entry on Twitter that covers all of the basics in a clear, comprehensive, British, and non-social-media-guru way. For example:

"TIP: Don't be a wanker and pretend you're Cameron's personal advisor."

Words to live by.

Speaking of Twitter, I also loved this which I found on Flickr:



That's what most people are really thinking, of course.

This UCC minister also reveals what pastors are really thinking when someone explains to us that they are "spiritual but not religious."

Next thing you know, he's telling me that he finds God in the sunsets. These people always find God in the sunsets. And in walks on the beach. Sometimes I think these people never leave the beach or the mountains, what with all the communing with God they do on hilltops, hiking trails and . . . did I mention the beach at sunset yet?

Oh yes!

Finally, for all the over-doers among us, I highly recommend this column, Stop Giving One Hundred Percent!

I think I'll go kick back for a bit. Have a great weekend, everyone!

Lent redux

I sent this ecard yesterday to a friend of mine (who shall remain anonymous). She sent back a message saying, "too late, I already found new spiritual insights!" And I guess it's too late for me too.

I accidentally backed into my Lenten observance. I gave up working on the weekends. Working at home, the days seem to blend into one another and it's hard to tell the difference between a workday and any other day.

I did pretty well. There was one weekend where I did some emailing and such, but by the end, there, it was a glorious feeling to reach the end of Friday afternoon and say to myself I'm shutting it down until Monday.

Spiritual insight? Here's one: News Flash! The world did not fall apart if I didn't work every day. Also: other things besides work need tending. Also: I work better during the week if there are specific times when I am not working. (See: Sabbath.)

One of the great things I was able to do on my days off was work in the garden. Three weeks ago, I planted some beans and peas. And look what we have here!



I love how the beans, in particular, burst out of the ground and out of their seed which sticks to them for a while. Where did I hear something like this recently? Oh, yes. "Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." I hope you all have a fruitful Easter.  And if you wish, I'd love to hear about your spiritual insights.

Ash Wednesday

I was talking to a friend last night about spiritual disciplines. She said she hated the use of the word "discipline" because it suggested punishment. She proposed spiritual exercise. I said I hated the use of the word exercise because it suggested...ummm...exercise. We settled on spiritual practice because that suggests it's all right not to get it right. It may not make perfect, but it will probably make better.

What spiritual practice do you want to try this Lent? Me, I still don't know. If you have something good, I'll probably copy you. In the meantime...

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

Thoughts on the Conversion of St. Paul, and still more thoughts on spiritual practice

Last weekend I went to a conference. When I registered, along with my information packet, I got a rock. A little brown landscaping rock. And on this rock was printed a name in permanent marker. And I was informed that this was the name of another person attending the conference for whom I was to pray. And I thought to myself, “I hate this spiritual crap.”

Later at lunch, there was a discussion about what age Godly Play stops being an effective Christian Education program. One person said she found that it loses its charm for kids at about fourth grade. The woman next to me announced that, no, it was great for kids all the way up to middle school, and in fact adults love the stories, too. “They quiet right down when the story starts.” If they’re like me, it’s because they’re biting their tongues to keep from screaming in agony. But I bit my tongue rather than say so.

Why? Because it would be rude, wouldn’t it? to say I hate this stuff. Worse still, maybe it shows I’m not really spiritual at all because my spiritual practice doesn’t look like it ought to. My daily spiritual practice looks a lot like writing snarky posts on my blog and on Twitter and Facebook.

I’m still having trouble believing that this is OK, that it’s all right that I don’t do what looks like a daily devotion either of the liberal/spiritual or evangelical/religious sort.

I can’t help but think that the rock/prayer partner spirituality was used, not because anybody planning the conference genuinely felt deeply moved by that practice, but because the planners thought they ought to feel deeply moved and spiritually empowered by that sort of exercise.

It’s the feast of the Conversion of Paul. He had a dramatic experience, of course: bright lights, falling to the ground, hearing voices, and doing a 180 turn from persecutor to church founder. I wonder (to use a Godly Play term) how much of the emphasis on conversion stories in many churches is based on Paul’s story and the belief that that’s the way a conversion ought to happen. I wonder how long it will take us to realize that God meets us where we are, not where someone thinks we ought to be.

[Image is from the Brick Testament, which has a darn good representation of Paul's whole conversion story.]

Thoughts from Quiet Day

Yesterday, I went up to Bishop's Ranch for a Quiet Day, which was absolutely lovely. I realized, as I read Morning Prayer and studied the lections for the day, that since I haven't had any pulpit supply gigs for a while, I haven't had a reason to dig into any Scriptures, and that I missed it. I need to keep that in mind.

The gospel of the day was the story of the 10 maidens waiting with lamps for the bridegroom to arrive. One thing the fabulous Interpreter's Bible (1951) pointed out is that the wise maidens were prepared, not for the worst, but for the best. "They lived, not merely for the moment, but against tomorrow's emergency of joy." I love that phrase: emergency of joy.

I also noted (and am not the first to do so) that despite Matthew reporting that Jesus said, "13Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour," everyone in the parable fell asleep. Sleep is not the problem.

I noted in the psalm one of the offertory sentences that we use in church: Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving, and make good your vows to the Most High. Which is a bit ironic since the context of the psalm is that God doesn't need your stuff.

I spent much of the rest of the day reading the remaining essays in Jesus Girls, which were by and large very good and truly moving. I especially liked Inventing a Testimony by Melanie Springer Mock, which was very funny while also pointing out how the Evangelical culture "privileges weaknesses of the flesh over those of the spirit;" Feminist-in-Waiting by Kimberly George which begins, "When a personal Lord and Savior was offered me, I thought he sounded appealing for surviving junior high;" and The Slope by Shari MacDonald Strong which ends,

For years, I was warned by church leaders not to question doctrine, not to challenge the patriarchal order. I was told that doing these things would land me on a slippery slope. It turns out they were right. In my thirties, I did lose the faith I had in an angry, patriarchal, puppet-string-maneuvering God--just as they warned I would.

But I've discovered a new faith. A faith in a loving Other that is, inexplicably, simultaneously Out There Somewhere and also within. A faith that has room enough not only for me to believe in God, but for me also to believe in myself. The proverbial slope is, indeed, slippery. But the grass is soft, and it smells green and sweet. The roll down the hill is freeing. And as I lie here at the bottom, looking up at the clouds, for the first time in my life, I feel as if I have a clear view of heaven.

Much for me still to ponder.

More on Spiritual Discipline, or "What Have You"

I wrote the previous entry on backsliding rather rapidly and need to do more thinking about that. One of the ways in which I wimped out was in saying, "But of course you need spiritual disciplines like prayer and Bible study," when the truth is my primary spiritual disciplines are Facebook, Twitter, and blogging, mentioned in the entry under the wimpy phrase, "or what have you."

I'm not kidding about that, by the way. I do think of these things as spiritual practices that help connect me to others and to God. Which is what any good spiritual practice does.

One of the essays in Jesus Girls that resonated most powerfully with me was about the sometimes obsessive devotion to daily Bible reading churchy people often feel we must do all the time. In Quick and Powerful, Hannah Faith Notess (who also edited the collection) writes about Bible memorization, the read-the-Bible-in-a-year systems, the highlighted and underlined passages.

Oh, it was all so familiar. In high school we had a special group that met after church to practice our memory verses (which came in this nifty little packet so we could carry them around and practice). I read the whole Bible through at around that same time, starting with the Old Testament since I thought the New Testament, upon which our preacher would expound using the original Greek, would be too hard. Somewhere I still have the red binder in which I painstakingly went through all of the Pauline epistles verse by verse, giving my personal, teen-aged commentary. My Good News Bible is full of highlights and underlines.

In college in InterVarsity, I was introduced to the concept of the Daily Quiet Time. There was much praise at our noon prayer group for a good daily quiet time and requests for God's help in the face of bad ones.

This devotion to devotions has taken different forms in the Episcopal Church. There's the Daily Offices, Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer, which treat the pray-er to great swaths of Scripture.

Then there's my bete noire: Lectio Divina which seems to be what all the really spiritual people do. Can't stand it. I've tried numerous times. Can't do it. Just can't. It's not for me.

My Bible reading these days is mostly in sermon prep. One poll of pastors reported in shock that "Seven hundred fifty-six (756 or 72%) of the pastors we surveyed stated that they only studied the Bible when they were preparing for sermons or lessons. This left only 38% who read the Bible for devotions and personal study." I fail to see the problem with that--and what makes you think that I'm not reading the Sunday lections for my personal devotions? Those passages do their work on me just the same as any other parts of the Bible.

I am very glad I did get such a strong background in Scripture, but it has been very hard to let go of the guilt that I'm not as devoted as I used to be. But Notess' essay hit it on the head--at least on my head--when she wrote, "If I was going to read the Bible in any meaningful way, I had to give all those seeds I'd crammed into my mind a little time to sprout. So at eighteen, I put the Bible on the shelf for a while. I took a step back from it, just to see what would happen."

The collect for this Sunday is one of my favorites:

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The "inwardly digest" part is always the best; it makes me happy every time. Finally I get that the happiness comes not only because the image amuses me, but because it's a very freeing thought. I'm still trying to let go of the guilt of not always reading, marking and learning, but to know in my heart and not just my head that inwardly digesting is part of the process too. I am reassured by the thought that perhaps I am not refusing the nourishment that comes from Scripture but savoring the food I've already been given.

I said earlier that "I'm not as devoted as I used to be," but I don't think that's true. I think I'm just as devoted to Scriptures, but finding my way into the practices that best stir me up to love. Certainly that's my hope.

Long one today! Whew! Thanks for reading!

5 suggestions for Holy Week

It’s kind of fun to be a non-parochial priest during Holy Week. No bulletins to proofread. No sermons to write. I don’t even have to go to the services if I don’t want to. Last week during announcements, the rector talked about how Holy Week is like a book and you don’t want to miss any of the chapters. I leaned to the woman next to me and said, “I’ve read this book before; I know what happens.”

But I’ve also been trying to think about how to make Holy Week meaningful after 20 years of going to Episcopal services. Here are five suggestions I have for making Holy Week meaningful. As with most sermons, this is a sermon to myself. I hope you find it useful for you as well, and welcome your suggestions!

1. Laugh at the goof-ups These Holy Week services are intended to be solemn and reverent, I know, but things happen. Like the “loud noise” of Tenebrae involving the gong crashing to the floor. At the wrong time. Really, what else can you do but laugh? Well, you can get all upset about it, I suppose, but it’s easier if you can just laugh about it.

2. Find the echoes of Holy Week in other places Yesterday, Keeper managed to tramp through some mud so I had to wash his feet before he came in the house. I couldn’t help but think of Maundy Thursday and it made me think of my relationship with Jesus in new ways. I’m looking out for echoes of the story of Holy Week to see what they have to tell me.

3. Pace yourself This is easier to do if you’re not actually running any services, or in the choir (where we called this “Extreme Worship”). But if you are doing the full-on week of worship services, recognize that this is a lot and permit yourself to cut back on other things. Give up, say, blogging for a couple of days. You are taking on extra work. Make adjustments accordingly.

4. Allow yourself not to like a service if you don’t like it I think there’s a lot of pressure we put on ourselves that “This is Holy Week! It must be deeply meaningful!” But the truth is a) some services will hit us more deeply than others and b) some services/sermons/music are just plain better than others. It’s not a sign that you’re not spiritual or that you’re not fully entering the mystery that is Holy Week if you don’t like a service. Better to admit it than to force yourself into a spiritual falsehood.

5. Remember you’re not being graded God is not going to love you any more if you “do” Holy Week “right.” Your salvation is not at stake if you “do” Holy Week “badly.” Don’t beat up on yourself if Holy Week isn’t the religious experience you thought it ought to be. Be present and be aware of what’s going on for you. Love God, love others, love yourself. Christ is with us. God is good.

A blessed Holy Week to you all.

Numerous obits

My, my, my, the days go by with no one person catching my interest and today there are four.

First, Pedro Aguilar, aka Cuban Pete, King of the Latin Beat, Mambo dancer. "While staying with an uncle in Washington, he was taught tap dancing by a maid who reasoned that if she could hear him tapping out steps on a box, he was not getting into mischief." And he gained a lot of his footwork from his time as a boxer. Dance seems to appear in mysterious ways in a lot of people's lives. It seems almost like an unstoppable force, the body expressing itself through movement.

Second, L. Ann Wieseltier, an accountant who worked with all sorts of creative types. And, boy, do creative types need the Ann Wieseltiers of this world -- and those of us who enjoy the performing arts need her, too. I actually prefer the family's obit for this: "For thirty three years Ann helped musicians, actors, artists, photographers, and dancers be successful through her financial expertise and deep sense of caring. She always looked forward to tax season as an opportunity to reconnect with people who were more like friends than clients." What a gift she offered the Bay Area arts community and all of us who enjoy their performances.

Third, there's Rabbi Alan Lew who encouraged meditation as a part of Jewish faith and practice. Nor was meditation separate from social justice. "Rabbi Lew believed spirituality was inextricable from social justice. At execution night vigils at San Quentin Prison, he spoke of forgiveness, compassion and the sanctity of life. He slept on the streets of San Francisco and in Golden Gate Park as acts of solidarity with the homeless, sometimes getting arrested in the process for acts of civil disobedience. Fischer said that on at least one occasion, Rabbi Lew told his congregation to invite the homeless into their homes, reminding them that biblical prophets had urged it." He sounds like a mensch to me.

Finally, Andrew Wyeth, the big name on our list. The thing that strikes me about him is that he kept doing what he did no matter the opinions of people around him. The one that killed me was the reaction he got from his own father.

N.C. Wyeth, the only art teacher Wyeth ever had, didn’t always agree with his son’s taste.

In a 1986 interview with the AP, Wyeth recalled one of the last paintings he showed to his father, who died in 1945. It was a picture of a young friend walking across a barren field.

“He said, ‘Andy, that has a nice feel, of a crisp fall morning in New England.’ He said, ‘You’ve got to do something to make this thing appeal. If you put a dog in it, or maybe have a gun in his hand,’” Wyeth recalled.

“Invariably my father talked about my lack of color.”

So from his father, he was told he needed "to do something to make this thing appeal," and from art critics "Because of his popularity, a bad sign to many art world insiders, Wyeth came to represent middle-class values and ideals that modernism claimed to reject...Art critics mostly heaped abuse on his work, saying he gave realism a bad name." I dunno...I think it would drive me mad. His work is strangely uncategorizable, isn't it? Blessings upon him for doing the art he felt called to do. May we do the same.