I'll bet, when you saw the title to this blog posting, you thought, 'Not another surprise, and after all these years!' Well, I hate to disappoint you, but this is not about sexual orientation. Though, I will mention that in the coming essay. There are lots of moments of "coming out" in one's life. It goes along with transformational and evolving life journeys. Mine is no different. I have jumped off one track and onto another.
On 1 July, I celebrated the first anniversary of my retirement. This first year went very differently than I ever could have anticipated when I left my parish office for the last time on the evening of 30 June 2011. The thought of making a move was barely embryonic and didn't become conclusive until the end of July 2011. The processes of selling a home, moving 1300 miles, buying a townhome, and having two pretty dicey surgeries were not even on my mind, as we flew to Tampa on 1 July to look at a single condo that one of my wife's colleagues was selling in Sarasota. It didn't work out, and we temporarily pretty much gave up the idea of a move.
The only thing that was for sure in the first year of retirement was our younger daughter's wedding. Even a year before it happened, I knew this was simply a foregone conclusion. Those two were (and are) seriously in love and seemed to fit together as a couple so well. That was going to be THE deal of the first year...our first wedding. Of course, it just happened two weeks ago. The very happy newlyweds have returned from their honeymoon to begin a more settled routine of married life.
During that first year, I let my hair grow down to my shoulders and discovered (to my utter surprise) that I reminded a lot of folks of "The Big Lebowski" character, "The Dude." I even got a lot of free coffee from Starbuck's to sit outside a cafe for a couple of hours on Halloween in full "Dudeistic Regalia" (yes, even the housecoat). I loved it! What I discovered in all of that goofiness is that I really enjoy being goofy....simply doing what comes to mind and not spending my life worrying so much (if at all) about what other folks think. This was a huge change for me.
Something happens to us Priests when we are ordained. It isn't God's fault. It's mostly our own and the (truly) outrageous expectations of our parishioners (for those of us who spend our active working years in that element). So, at some ultimate expense to our emotional...and, thus, physical...well-being, we hide what we really think and believe in order to keep our parochial systems in balance.
Truth is, we could keep our parochial systems in fine balance and still be up front about what we think and believe about the world around us. We simply hate the criticism and pain that comes from people who think differently and have nothing much better to do than make the lives of those different from them miserable. Not many people are exactly like that. It's a gradient of sorts. It's hard enough to keep a parish in balance while feigning total neutrality (sort of like the eunuch...a bodyguard or servant to a queen or female royal household member who was castrated to insure the royal women's chastity). Yes, Priests in the Episcopal Church do undergo something of an emotional or ideological emasculation in order to "keep the peace" in parishes. I just talked at length with a colleague still in active parish ministry who is suffering grievously as a result of simply "being himself."
This first year of retirement has placed me in an almost required position of having to tend to my cluttered interiority and sort through the places where I have stuck all those parts of who I am. They are slowly coming to life again. The nearly four months of intense surgical events, infection therapies and recoveries created a space to "be apart" from what might otherwise have been routine distractions. I had to remain seated or supine most of the time in order to heal. That makes for a lot of inner journey opportunities and internal evaluation.
So, what is there to "come out" about? I named two already: I enjoy being goofy and a bit "out there;" and I spent a long time hiding most of my real convictions for fear of being branded, ostracized or rendered ineffective in the work I truly have loved. Here are a few "comings out."
1) I registered as a Republican when I was first old enough to vote in a general election...while still a student at the University of Florida. That was not a popular thing in those days, so I kept it quiet. Why did I register Republican? Because, all of the folks I called "Florida Rednecks" (rural guys who drove outrageous pickup trucks with shotguns and rifles on racks in the back window) were Democrats...or, as they were then called "Dixiecrats." Fine reason to register in a party....basing it on a perceived lifestyle.
2) This was no secret, because my Bishop (William Folwell of the Diocese of C. Florida) knew it: I hated the Vietnam War and all that had sent us over there...the military, the politicians and the whole structure. I was...get this...something of a Republican anarchist. They do exist. They even have a name to this day.
3) I originally went into the military out of obedience to my Bishop. He required that his Postulants for Holy Orders work for a time in between college and graduate seminary studies. He asked me to enter the military, because I needed "to develop objectivity in dealing with the diversity of parish life." I told him (yes, I really did) that he was crazy. I repented of this and learned through the process that our vows really were important...and so was discipline.
4) I only enlisted because the process to become a commissioned officer in the U.S. Navy would take longer and require more years of service than my Bishop wanted me to have before ordination. It was the second (and last) time I told him he was crazy, when he suggested I enlist. Ultimately, it was a great decision. He had truly discerned my needs and growing edges...nailing, in the process, how to get me in position to be the most effective Priest I could be. I almost didn't go to seminary, because the Navy offered me a full commission and career as an officer in a field I found very attractive at that time.
5) Also, not a secret: I was very close to entering the Novitiate as a monastic...maybe less than a year away...when I met my future wife. I had been in a process since 1974. My spiritual director, in the monastic order, wanted me to date for a couple of years prior to entering the process. When I wrote him and told him that I had fallen in love and was considering marriage, his response was short, and with his usual charm: "Why am I not surprised?"
6) I transitioned to being a Democrat along about the same time I was preparing for marriage. One had nothing to do with the other. I was overseeing the resettling of Cuban refugees in the parish where I was Assistant in Orlando. I began to be intimately in contact with people whose lives had been disrupted, dismantled and rendered worthless. I loved those folks I worked with, and the parishioners who became the team of caregivers at Emmanuel. No more simply giving lip service to the poor and dispossessed.
7) I came to a place of seeing the struggle and pain of those who are LGBT in the mid-1980s. I will always be grateful to God for my chance meeting with several gay men who, as Episcopalians, were deeply struggling to "be okay" with being who they had always been. They were so much God's people and so much more Christian than I was at the time. The Spirit simply opened that door, and I walked in. I kept that a deep secret to preserve their well-being in the diocese and my well-being as a Priest in that diocese (there were "witch hunts" in those days in C. Florida...and many other places).
8) I met Mother Barbara Brown Taylor at an M. Scott Peck conference at Kanuga (Episcopal camp and conference center near Hendersonville, NC) in August 1984. She literally saved my sanity through her pastoral care. In what was the fastest turn-around in my personal life, I became a very strong advocate of women in all levels of ordained ministry (I had not been prior to that experience). The 1980s were huge for my spiritual growth.
9) I quietly counseled, gave spiritual direction and encouraged vocations for LGBT Episcopalians from about 1990 onward. And, yes, I told them to keep quiet about their sexual orientation. I employed gay folks on staffs. I expected everything from them that I expected from all staff members...and myself...personal integrity, professionalism, and neutrality. Had I found anyone violating the standards of conduct in the Church, I would have moved swiftly and decisively to deal with that...regardless of gender, gay or straight. Fortunately, I always had very professional staff members in every parish.
10) I wanted Geraldine Ferraro to be the first woman President of the United States. I was disappointed when that didn't happen. I wanted Hillary Clinton to be the first woman President of the United States and was disappointed when that didn't happen.
11) I was exceedingly disappointed with President Clinton's dalliances and the uproar/distraction it caused. But, I do think he has been one of our most effective presidents. When he left office, we had the first budget surplus in nearly four decades.
12) In my first general election as an adult voter, I cast a vote for Richard Nixon (1972). Remember, I was a registered Republican. I still get disturbed when I think about having done that. Dumbass!
13) There have been people in all my parishes that I simply didn't like. They were folks who were rude, self-serving, demanding, judgmental, and considered themselves entitled either because of their position in the private sector, their wealth or their cultural orientation. I have never suffered them for very long, and I have watched them nearly kill clergy, divide parishes...all with the claim that they were serving "their god." This seems harsh, but, if the Episcopal Church is dying, it is more from that than anything folks think is the "real problem." Trust me on this after 34 years.
14) If I had not retired when I did, I do honestly and deeply believe I would not have been alive to reach age 65. I had so deeply buried myself and had become so unwilling to speak my own truth, that folks that love me very much feared for my well-being. I woke up about two months ago and realized, for the first time in a very long time, that I am real and alive and can think and speak my truth without fear of repercussions.
So, okay. Here's the deal. I'm a Democrat. I am a little left of moderate. I am considered a lightly conservative theologian by most of my colleagues but more liberal in my political ideology. I truly dislike labels. They don't tell the truth about a person, because we are a lot more than the thin margin those labels actually define. I am just me. I will point out readily the other side of an issue in order to provide perspective. Perspective is something I believe our culture currently lacks...abysmally lacks.
I will continue to advocate full inclusion of partnered gay and lesbian folks at all levels of common life. It isn't a choice for them to be who they are....of this I am totally and thoroughly convinced. They are God's folks as much as any of us are and deserve the same love and respect we all deserve.
I intend to speak my truth in love and to give those with different opinions the full measure of respect for where they find themselves at the moment. I go deep into a well of contemplative silence to become the best me I can be. It seems to be working. God is faithful always. I am here today, because of that. I have always respected those of all walks of life and ideologies. That will only continue and grow.
Finally, my Lakota friends and their culture have taught me so much more than I ever knew possible about the pain of rejection and repression. I love those folks very much, and they have loved me...a big, goofy white man. The Lakota are truly loving, caring and generous folks...as are all Native Americans. Most of my life-work (what is given me) will be to advocate for reparations, return of sacred lands and acknowledgment of their culture. Our ancestors were merciless with the false doctrine of "Manifest Destiny" (invented by a NY journalist to foster hatemongering). Most of our ancestors left tyranny only to inflict that tyranny on those who were here before us and nearly annihilate them, body and soul. We, as a culture, have to deal with this...or we will never heal and be truly great.
There you have it. Let's see how many friends this may cost. Remember, I am just me...and am "out" now.
Love in Christ,
Fred+
PS: I didn't tell everything. A few things are between me, my family and God. ;)
09 July 2012
06 July 2012
What Really Happened in San Diego, CA on the Evening of 4 July 2012
The Inside Scoop: Special Report from Journalist F. Montforte D'Hubert
In a shot that was heard around San Diego Bay and for miles farther, a quiet group of physicists managed to pull off one of the greatest subversive experiments in pyrotechnic history.
No, we are not talking about Higgs boson. That is old news to be certain. We speak here of the formerly top secret enterprise of one Dr. Jasper Plank and his team of nuclear physicists working on the (until now) unknown particle they call the "Hickey coson" (pronounced hi-key coh-sun). In an exclusive interview allowed to me by this secretive group, I am able to bring to light the truth about the alleged fireworks display botch on 4 July evening.
The photograph captured above looks like no other fireworks display gone wrong. That's because, it was a carefully timed explosion surrounding sensitive instruments that have been designed to withstand intense heat and flame while isolated sub-atomic particles. This method of breaking up atomic matter is known by Dr. Plank and his team as Low-level Mid-air Isotope Collision Infuser (LeMICI). Dr. Plank's LeMICI operations specialist, Dr. Cranston Dimshaw explains:
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| Dr. Cranston Dimshaw |
"Well, sir, I don't mind a-sayin this; we have that Hadron Collider thingamabob over yonder in Switzerland beat all to hell and gone. They had to tear up a lot of dirt and rock..killin' a bunch o'worms and stuff to get that beast a-planted underground. Now, Dr. Plank and me had this idea a-piece back that we could contain a ball-bustin' ('scuse me, kin I say that in print?) atom smasher in a contained space above ground-- keepin' all the energy focused inward. I told Dr. Plank that if he'd get me five hunnert pounds of dyneemite, I'd be good for my word, as a pyrotechnic specialist with a doctorate in explosion physics from USC, and get him a big enough blast to show up them lilly-livers in Europe."
Dr. Dimshaw went on to explain in some technical detail the process of bringing five hundred pounds of tri-nitro toluene (dynamite) in the form of a complex fireworks display into such a configuration as to create an infused explosion -- which can be seen at the top of this report.
When I asked Dr. Plank and his team just what it took to get this equipment in place, he pointed to their mobile laboratory, known as "Hotspot," and said, "Thar she be...finest mobile facility on wheels is my guess."
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| "Hotspot" being loaded by labrats |
As a reporter, I was immediately aware of the lack of security around such a sensitive and sophisticated scientific mobile facility. Dr. Plank explained, "Ya see those two ears a-peekin over the window yonder? That varmint is our guard dog, Stewey. He is the meanest, oneriest and golldarndest cantankerous fox terrier I have ever seen. He is ten years old and kin tear yer.....(deleted) off afore ya kin whistle the first three notes of "Dixie." Oh, and don't whistle that tune around Stewey. He hates that tune like crazy." I was permitted to climb aboard "Hotspot" for a very brief peek from the front of the bus. Stewey was right there, as I climbed the steps...showing me the kind of lip that said this dog meant business. I did as I was told and avoided experiencing his expertise. I never knew such a small dog could seem so big.
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| Stewey the Vicious Guard Dog |
Up to this point, I had not had the opportunity to have a long interview time with Dr. Plank himself. He seemed awfully busy cutting and pasting pictures on booklets that looked suspiciously like passports. He was also supervising what seemed to be a rapid mobile retreat to some place no one would share with me.
At length, the great Dr.Plank himself, came over with a cup of coffee for me, and we sat on two boxes of left over TNT and chatted for what he called, "a spell." Here is the substance of the interview:
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| Dr. Jasper Plank |
FMD: Thanks for this time Dr. Plank. What is your assessment of this event?
JP: It beats the hell out of me. We spent years planning for the right time and place to carry out this experiment. You mighta guessed that this here was one complex puppy to pull off.
FMD: Are you suggesting that something went wrong?
JP: Wrong? Sheeeit....we been lookin' for Hickey coson for 25 years. I knowed it was thar while I was still at Berkeley. One night, while me and Weed was doin' some agricultural research, it came to me...like the opening of a fog bank...that there was a particle inside all this soup we call atoms and molecules that made things all work together and just right.
FMD: So, early on, you were in agricultural science?
FMD: So, early on, you were in agricultural science?
JP: After a manner o'speakin'...yep. We was tryin' to learn about the complex atomic chemistry of a product and how it could be enhanced to provide more yield. My friend and colleague, Weed, was in charge of the operation.
FMD: Weed? Who was he, or she.
JP: Cain't rightly say. We just knew him as Weed. He was a whiz-bang of a feller, but he went to the dark side of science and became one of them theologian guys. Cain't unnerstand that. How can you 'splain what you don't see?
FMD: Isn't that what you are doing with Hickey coson? And, by the way, how did you arrive at that name.
JP: Well, we jest knowed that atoms is real and made up of particles of energy. Now that particle stuff were new to physics. We had a helluva time tryin' to sell that to our grant providers. Eventually, we had to go commando to get our work done. Oh, you asked 'bout Hickey coson. Well, one morning the (then) agri-team assembled for a research meetin'. We all had these purple blotches on our necks and found out we had all scored dates the night before with some of the campus ladies....you jest don't know what it's like to be in our line o' work and try to get dates with real girls. But here all five of us were. Weed had two of them blotches....said it was a long night. He also 'splained that the blotches was called "hickeys" and a sign of a successful date. We was to be proud of them 'cause they only lasted a few days. Weed was the man with two o' them puppies. Weed was also the shouter on an 8 man rowing crew. They call them coxwains. Damned if I would like to be called that. I guess boat folks don't like it much either, 'cause they called themselves "coh-suns." Long and short of it: When I started studin' on them particles, I wanted to name the mother of all particles the Hickey coson in honor of that original team, our darin' deeds and Weed's outdoor dealins.
FMD: Well, that's a heck of a story, Dr. Plank. A lot goes into a name. Sure would like to know more about this Weed fellow.
JP: Cain't talk no more 'bout him. He's classified. I do know he's been back busy on some new form of agri-science. He always liked to brew up a mess o' whatever we was workin' on.
FMD: I know my time with you is almost up, Dr. Plank. Let's talk more about last evening's event (being July 4). Can you summarize it.
JP: I'll try to be brief here, so stay with me young feller. Coming up with enough dyneemite to create a collider infusion event was a problem. We been knowin' fer years about them boys in New Jersey and their pyro shows. Well, we was able to set up our lab and turn on the juice to our computers in such a way as to realign both the timing and trajectories of all that ordinance. I cain't lie; we had a dickens of a time. Had to call Weed, who keeps up with this computin' stuff, to give us a hand. Ya' know, that skeester knocked out a big ole chunk o' the power grid here a few years back. Southwest California folks were mighty pissed. Didn't find Weed for days..worryin' about him and such. Finally found him clean under his bed...still hidin. But I digress.
We finally managed to git all the circuits to respond to our computer engineer's software. All he needed to do was time his hittin the enter key at the same time as the New Jersey boy clicked his button to start the show. Damn near worked to. We was off about 0.5 seconds. Dammit. One part fired just that much later than the other. It was one helluva beautiful explosion. The infusion worked well enough, and the night was perfect in terms of temperature and humidity (I do love the SD Bay area). Yep, we missed ole Hickey coson jest a hair.
FMD: Manoman. What a story. How much did that cost you in terms of research dollars?
JP: Us? Hmmm. I'd say 'bout $119.65. We had to buy some computer extension stuff and gas to get from where we was.
FMD: What?!! Only about $120.00?!! How the......?
JP: Now, don't get jumpy on me lad. The LeMICI is a work of genius simply because it is not expensive like them hoity-toity curvy colliders. I do have to admit, those New Jersey boys are out a few bucks...big bucks. But it was for the sake of science and technical research. Still they are mighty pissed and such this mornin'.
FMD: What about the thousands of SD Bay area folks who bought tickets to be up close and came from miles around to see this annual event?
JP: Hells bells! Ain't no one got any sense of adventure and 'preciation fer what took place? Where else you gonna see power, majesty and pyrotechnic genius like what happened last night? I understand we extended the San Andreas Fault another 20 miles south. Now these folks will be part of the Big Island when them tectonic plates start a movin' west in a few years.
FMD: Simply astounding. Hey, I see what looks like Fed cars coming up the road. Are they looking for you or me. We need to close this for now. Maybe we can meet up again soon.
JP: Yep, we need to skeedaddle on outta here. Pure research cain't be slowed by those federal boys. Pesky critters.....See ya.
That ended one of the most incredible interviews of my long and unusual journalistic career. This story is so wild that even The Onion wouldn't take it. Said it was too hot. You betcha. They should have been here. Some nose hairs were singed for sure.
I am thankful to Fr. Frederick Mann, fellow ordained Dudeist, for allowing me to tell this incredible, almost unbelievable, story. Perhaps we can follow up. Damn, there's another fed car. I'll just be moving along now. Chow.
F. Montforte D'Hubert
At Large Reporter/Journalist
Catch all the latest at ifitainthereitaintnewsworthy.aa/bollsgeschicte . It is the downunder fer shur business (aa =Antarctica)
Catch all the latest at ifitainthereitaintnewsworthy.aa/bollsgeschicte . It is the downunder fer shur business (aa =Antarctica)
02 July 2012
Sandbox
[My thanks to Dr. Tatiana Agafonova, DC; a Doctor of Chiropractic and specialist in Somatic-Respiratory Integration (SRI), which she uses in her practice and teaches...based upon the research and work of Dr. Donald Epstein, DC. The image of the sandbox came out of a conversation that Tatiana and I had at a workshop she did this past weekend].
Just about everyone had a type of sandbox growing up...or at least access to one. At our childhood home, Dad had a load of yellow sand placed on the north side of our driveway, near the garage and half under a brazilian pepper tree (these trees are no longer "legal" in Florida, and our parents had ours removed during my high school years..another story). We had the ability to dig tunnels for our sand play gear, create castles and cities and play "army" with our plastic figurines and military equipment. Fun days!
When our girls were growing up, we created a more conventional sandbox in our backyards. It was large enough for four our five little people to have a good time and was filled with a load of white sand...heavy enough to be useful when wet for making castles and stuff. Countless times, we were called to the back end of our backyard to view the latest "make" and experience the latest in creative and imaginative productions.
My brother and I grew up, and the sand near the garage was spread through the lawn with only the bare traces of the yellow that signified a once active little series of "kingdoms."
As our girls grew, we sold one of our homes, when I was called to another parish. We left the next home, which was owned by the parish. In each situation, we left the sandbox for what new creative energy would occupy that space. By that time, the girls were away in college and essentially gone. Our last home, alas, had no sandbox...at least not the kind I have described. I missed seeing those play areas and what they meant.
As an adult, one of my "sandbox experiences" was the yard of the home we had at any given time. Creating beds for plants, flowers and vegetables/herbs became an off-work passion. The sculpting of shrubs and the placement of colors and variations of green engaged the creative presentation of "the castle"...our home.
Denise and I built two homes, owned two homes and lived in a home owned by the cathedral in South Bend...over the space of the 30 years leading to this latest move. Each one was unique in scope, shape, and eco-diversity. Each was a fresh challenge -- either to create "ex-nihil" or shift and shape what existed when we moved in.
We now live in a townhome (a two-story condominium with about 2K square feet) in a development of 24 buildings. Each building has eight condos -- with a total of four different floor plans. They are well-built, but every "Ruby" (our particular model) is identical. There are some variations based upon choices of kitchen cabinet styles, floor tile coloring (stone tiles, btw), upstairs carpet colors, etc.
The grounds of our condo development -- called Stonehaven -- are the domain of the HOA and maintained by landscapers and a grounds maintenance company. It's creatively done and contains a lot of bio-diversity. Sarasota is considered "sub-tropical" so our plants and trees are quite different than the midwest or other parts of the country. We have a number of palm species, water oaks, Florida Holly, a southern species of maple, cypress and plants and shrubs too numerous to list.
I have to admit, I miss doing yardwork. Why? It is all about the creative "sandbox" that has been the yards I have maintained over the past four decades. It was hard, sweaty and sometimes downright tiresome work; but the satisfaction of drinking a beer or glass of iced-tea at the end of the day and taking in the vista of my day's labor can't really be described. Now, as I watch the landscapers plant new trees, shrubs and plants around the final four buildings of our development, I find myself saying things like, "Damn, why did they decide to place those palms in that location?" Or, "That's a perfect spot for that young oak." I actually went out and pulled a few weeds last week (after the storm and before the lawn maintenance guys got here). It actually felt good! Call me weird, but it was something of a "sandbox moment." I stood back and admired how that small work had changed the mini-biosphere of that section of shrubbery. [BTW, discarded biomass in this area is composted by Sarasota County...in our case...and used in a variety of creative ways...a corporate sandbox?]
This past Saturday, Dr. Agafonova and I were not talking about biosphere sandboxes. We actually got into a post-workshop conversation about the next phase of the Somatic-Respiratory Integration (SRI) development. It was she who said, "That would be a very good sandbox in which to play and develop a new part of this technology..." Her words grabbed all the memories I have just unpacked above. I am at that phase of my own psycho-spiritual development where key words become icons for a wide play of experiences and new ideas that greet me in the process and project me forward.
It occurred to me, as I came away from our conversation, that there is a "sandbox" in which I have been playing and building for many, many years. I just never saw it that way at all. There is a place deep within each of us. Sadly, it is not visited by many, but it is there nonethless. It is a space described by theologians like John Sanford, Morton Kelsey; mystics like Julian of Norwich, John of the Cross; psychologists like Carl Jung, Abraham Maslow and physiologists like Dr. Memnet Oz, Andrew Weil. These are just a few of the many in each discipline that comprise of the full scope of humanity who talk about this space deep within....where body, mind and spirit come together. It very much fits my description of an "inner sandbox."
From the psycho-physical point, entry comes through the work of our right brain...the area which embraces the intuitive and imaginative neuro-psychological functions. From the psycho-spiritual point, entry also comes through the right brain; but also engages the unconscious level of the psyche. From the point of all three elements of our being, SRI helps gain entry...becoming aware of the rhythms of our physiological and respiratory functions.
This inner sandbox provides lots of opportunities for playful interaction within ourselves, with the Holy and then outwardly with others. I am not sure how we lose that externalization of our childhood imagination, but I know why. We are taught somewhere along the line that it is time to quit being a kid and grow up....get serious about the world and what we do in life. That totally external, ultra-logical and mechanical process (or techological, behavioral...) is the function of the left brain. As I have said, it is important, but it isn't the controlling or primary aspect of being human.
To be human is to be a synthesis of all elements of our createdness. I want to submit that synthesizing our humanness is a process that has the outward and visible sign of the sandbox. It is a modality that is much more playful than it is serious. It is a place of wonder, excitement and energy. Today, we might build the metaphorical castle and be knights, kings, queens and jesters. Tomorrow, we may fashion a city with all kinds of modern elements. The next day could be a battlefield, and yes, play fighting is an appropriate way of learning the limits of the real self and the depths of relationships. Watch young animals engage in scrappy wrestling to build strength and learn relational skills. I am not talking about aggressive dominance here. In the sandbox, everyone is the same and engagement of the parts of self are mutual and respectful in their play. Ego is a left brain function and can be domineering, controlling and destructive at times.
I have to find quiet places to get into my "inner sandbox." I have to drop being "Fr. Fred" or "Honey" (spouse) or "Dad." I don't reject these in the least, but functionally, they are simply identifiers of what needs to be a state of being and not just jobs or roles. I am those things, because I am.......I am.
In my inner sandbox, I learned that "you are, because I AM." The Imago of the Creator has invested in me to make me uniquely who I am. It is my value to life. Oh, and it is also the value of every other human on the planet. Now, it seems, the sandbox theory becomes meddlesome. But, I don't like some folks. They are too....(place it in there: liberal, conservative, rich, poor, educated, uneducated, different skin tone or cultural origin...keep going). But, when we get in the inner sandbox, all that stuff just doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter to God...never has...otherwise, we would all be the same. God formed us each the way we are.
Now, granted, the ego has taken control in most situations, and the expression of our perceived reality creates divisive behavior, the destructive kind of fighting, prejudicial judgements and all kinds of things we can call ugly and hurtful. That stuff just isn't in the sandbox...not the inner one. Even in the backyard sandbox, kids playing together in a creative and free-form fashion have remarkable solidarity. It is the true meaning of community.
Time for me to work a bit on my health at the gym, breathe deeply and get centered. More will no doubt come later, after I have played a while in my sandbox.
Much love in He Who Loves Us Always,
Fred+
Just about everyone had a type of sandbox growing up...or at least access to one. At our childhood home, Dad had a load of yellow sand placed on the north side of our driveway, near the garage and half under a brazilian pepper tree (these trees are no longer "legal" in Florida, and our parents had ours removed during my high school years..another story). We had the ability to dig tunnels for our sand play gear, create castles and cities and play "army" with our plastic figurines and military equipment. Fun days!
When our girls were growing up, we created a more conventional sandbox in our backyards. It was large enough for four our five little people to have a good time and was filled with a load of white sand...heavy enough to be useful when wet for making castles and stuff. Countless times, we were called to the back end of our backyard to view the latest "make" and experience the latest in creative and imaginative productions.
My brother and I grew up, and the sand near the garage was spread through the lawn with only the bare traces of the yellow that signified a once active little series of "kingdoms."
As our girls grew, we sold one of our homes, when I was called to another parish. We left the next home, which was owned by the parish. In each situation, we left the sandbox for what new creative energy would occupy that space. By that time, the girls were away in college and essentially gone. Our last home, alas, had no sandbox...at least not the kind I have described. I missed seeing those play areas and what they meant.
As an adult, one of my "sandbox experiences" was the yard of the home we had at any given time. Creating beds for plants, flowers and vegetables/herbs became an off-work passion. The sculpting of shrubs and the placement of colors and variations of green engaged the creative presentation of "the castle"...our home.
Denise and I built two homes, owned two homes and lived in a home owned by the cathedral in South Bend...over the space of the 30 years leading to this latest move. Each one was unique in scope, shape, and eco-diversity. Each was a fresh challenge -- either to create "ex-nihil" or shift and shape what existed when we moved in.
We now live in a townhome (a two-story condominium with about 2K square feet) in a development of 24 buildings. Each building has eight condos -- with a total of four different floor plans. They are well-built, but every "Ruby" (our particular model) is identical. There are some variations based upon choices of kitchen cabinet styles, floor tile coloring (stone tiles, btw), upstairs carpet colors, etc.
The grounds of our condo development -- called Stonehaven -- are the domain of the HOA and maintained by landscapers and a grounds maintenance company. It's creatively done and contains a lot of bio-diversity. Sarasota is considered "sub-tropical" so our plants and trees are quite different than the midwest or other parts of the country. We have a number of palm species, water oaks, Florida Holly, a southern species of maple, cypress and plants and shrubs too numerous to list.
I have to admit, I miss doing yardwork. Why? It is all about the creative "sandbox" that has been the yards I have maintained over the past four decades. It was hard, sweaty and sometimes downright tiresome work; but the satisfaction of drinking a beer or glass of iced-tea at the end of the day and taking in the vista of my day's labor can't really be described. Now, as I watch the landscapers plant new trees, shrubs and plants around the final four buildings of our development, I find myself saying things like, "Damn, why did they decide to place those palms in that location?" Or, "That's a perfect spot for that young oak." I actually went out and pulled a few weeds last week (after the storm and before the lawn maintenance guys got here). It actually felt good! Call me weird, but it was something of a "sandbox moment." I stood back and admired how that small work had changed the mini-biosphere of that section of shrubbery. [BTW, discarded biomass in this area is composted by Sarasota County...in our case...and used in a variety of creative ways...a corporate sandbox?]
This past Saturday, Dr. Agafonova and I were not talking about biosphere sandboxes. We actually got into a post-workshop conversation about the next phase of the Somatic-Respiratory Integration (SRI) development. It was she who said, "That would be a very good sandbox in which to play and develop a new part of this technology..." Her words grabbed all the memories I have just unpacked above. I am at that phase of my own psycho-spiritual development where key words become icons for a wide play of experiences and new ideas that greet me in the process and project me forward.
It occurred to me, as I came away from our conversation, that there is a "sandbox" in which I have been playing and building for many, many years. I just never saw it that way at all. There is a place deep within each of us. Sadly, it is not visited by many, but it is there nonethless. It is a space described by theologians like John Sanford, Morton Kelsey; mystics like Julian of Norwich, John of the Cross; psychologists like Carl Jung, Abraham Maslow and physiologists like Dr. Memnet Oz, Andrew Weil. These are just a few of the many in each discipline that comprise of the full scope of humanity who talk about this space deep within....where body, mind and spirit come together. It very much fits my description of an "inner sandbox."
From the psycho-physical point, entry comes through the work of our right brain...the area which embraces the intuitive and imaginative neuro-psychological functions. From the psycho-spiritual point, entry also comes through the right brain; but also engages the unconscious level of the psyche. From the point of all three elements of our being, SRI helps gain entry...becoming aware of the rhythms of our physiological and respiratory functions.
This inner sandbox provides lots of opportunities for playful interaction within ourselves, with the Holy and then outwardly with others. I am not sure how we lose that externalization of our childhood imagination, but I know why. We are taught somewhere along the line that it is time to quit being a kid and grow up....get serious about the world and what we do in life. That totally external, ultra-logical and mechanical process (or techological, behavioral...) is the function of the left brain. As I have said, it is important, but it isn't the controlling or primary aspect of being human.
To be human is to be a synthesis of all elements of our createdness. I want to submit that synthesizing our humanness is a process that has the outward and visible sign of the sandbox. It is a modality that is much more playful than it is serious. It is a place of wonder, excitement and energy. Today, we might build the metaphorical castle and be knights, kings, queens and jesters. Tomorrow, we may fashion a city with all kinds of modern elements. The next day could be a battlefield, and yes, play fighting is an appropriate way of learning the limits of the real self and the depths of relationships. Watch young animals engage in scrappy wrestling to build strength and learn relational skills. I am not talking about aggressive dominance here. In the sandbox, everyone is the same and engagement of the parts of self are mutual and respectful in their play. Ego is a left brain function and can be domineering, controlling and destructive at times.
I have to find quiet places to get into my "inner sandbox." I have to drop being "Fr. Fred" or "Honey" (spouse) or "Dad." I don't reject these in the least, but functionally, they are simply identifiers of what needs to be a state of being and not just jobs or roles. I am those things, because I am.......I am.
In my inner sandbox, I learned that "you are, because I AM." The Imago of the Creator has invested in me to make me uniquely who I am. It is my value to life. Oh, and it is also the value of every other human on the planet. Now, it seems, the sandbox theory becomes meddlesome. But, I don't like some folks. They are too....(place it in there: liberal, conservative, rich, poor, educated, uneducated, different skin tone or cultural origin...keep going). But, when we get in the inner sandbox, all that stuff just doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter to God...never has...otherwise, we would all be the same. God formed us each the way we are.
Now, granted, the ego has taken control in most situations, and the expression of our perceived reality creates divisive behavior, the destructive kind of fighting, prejudicial judgements and all kinds of things we can call ugly and hurtful. That stuff just isn't in the sandbox...not the inner one. Even in the backyard sandbox, kids playing together in a creative and free-form fashion have remarkable solidarity. It is the true meaning of community.
Time for me to work a bit on my health at the gym, breathe deeply and get centered. More will no doubt come later, after I have played a while in my sandbox.
Much love in He Who Loves Us Always,
Fred+
12 June 2012
Paradox
"The Glory of God is Man Fully Alive..."
-- St. Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyons, ca. 180CE
For over a week now, I have been walking around with paradox. Think about that statement. In itself, it is paradoxical. The English treatment of that word renders the meaning: self-contradictory, absurd or contradictory, or having contradictory properties (OED, American Ed., 1997). My journey with this word began when, in a conversation, the person with whom I was having coffee suggested that I was attempting to live a paradoxical life. Ultimately, that sent me on a journey into the origins of the word "paradox" and how it might be true or false regarding the suggestion that my life was a study in contradiction.
As an aside I might mention that I have already given my "two cents worth" regarding making judgments based upon impressions, relationships or simple observation. It's a couple of blog posts in back of this ("Of Corners and Markets," 26 May 2012).
Where I did my seminary graduate studies, one could not get through seminary (or the New Testament and theology courses) without a working knowledge of Koine Greek. This is a hybrid of Classical Greek and was the "street language" of the first century Mediterranean world. It became the official language of the early Church, because the Disciples spoke it. Jesus spoke it. And, it carried all of the early thoughts ideas of this emerging community of faith. The other language of the day for the Hebrew peoples was Aramaic...a hybrid of classical Hebrew. Funny how a language will morph over time. What was once a more relaxed colloquial speech becomes the official language of several cultures. This is certainly true of modern American English. It is a hybrid of the English spoken a scant 300 years ago.
Armed with the core reference books of my craft (theology), I began an exploration of the word "paradox." It led to an interesting conclusion. The term "para" means to be "beside" or, in some cases, "to proceed from the side of." It can also suggest to be "along with...." Hence, we get words like "paramedic." It is a medical professional who is along side of a medical doctor. Their skills reflect the deeper skills of the doctor who may later treat the patient. Paratroopers have special equipment "along with" their other special gear to jump from aircraft. It can go on. Have fun with the multi-volume OED...paying special attention to the origin of the words that begin with "para."
Then there is the root word in the word "paradox." It is the Geek word, "doxa." This term has an origin in Hebrew, which is the word "kabod" (sans the jots and tittles that my computer keyboard is not equipped to generate). The Hebrew word means the "weight and heaviness of importance." It is a reflection of a man's inner worth and character that calls forth respect. The Hebrew language is theocentric; therefore, the inner character is the Imago Dei....the Glory of God (or, in simpler theological terms....that which is created in the image of God).
The New Testament used the Greek rendering of "kabod," which is "doxa." Something that glorifies God is the "Glory of God" reflected in that thing or being. It literally comes from the side of or comes along with it.
Putting the two words together, the fundamental meaning of "paradox" can be the "glory that emerges from or is alongside" a person. Observing some folks on a daily basis, that truth could present itself as a contradiction to the action being exhibited. It could also be easily mistaken as a reflection of a truth that is actually a misrepresentation. So, an abusive individual could claim that he/she was administering "God's justice," or being "God's agent." In fact, what is emerging is their own false echo from a dysfunctional behavioral source.
Sounds confusing perhaps, but this is important in light of what we see in contemporary culture. Just today, a friend gave an account on Facebook of a father at a kids soccer camp berating his elementary age daughter for her mistakes in playing the game. It was abusive enough that my friend was quite distressed at the behavior. I will bet that, should the father be confronted, he would swear he was using "God-given tools of parenting" to bring out the best in his daughter. I must confess with some guilt that I suggested that my friend kick the father where it would hurt the worst. He reflected the current meaning of paradox rather than its root meaning of "reflecting God's Glory."
Back to the coffee shop conversation with my new friend. The paradox he described me living has to do with being a priest retired from engaged ministry (i.e. I have no employed position) and living a rather relaxed life of a coastal dweller in shorts and knit shirts. That relaxed lifestyle also includes exploring other areas of interest and not revealing my actual vocation. Most of our conversation that day had dealt with marine biology, politics and the archaeological sites of Native Americans along the Florida West Coast. Not once did I "get spiritual" in our conversation (his words). That led to the statement of paradox. My lifestyle and interests appeared to this person as contradictory to his image of a retired clergy person.
My response to that? I have always been interested in biology and life sciences. I was majoring in zoology before I began to discern a possible vocation as a priest. I also have always been interested in the anthropological elements of history...human culture. I am profoundly interested in the First Nations that occupied this land prior to it being taken from them. That leads to politics....the sustaining of ordered community and culture (the "ordering of polis"....the city/community/state...there's that Greek again).
Because I am a theologian by training and trade, my job has (for the past 35 years) been to discern God among us in the happenings of everyday human life. That was the point that Irenaeus was making in his second century writings (quoted at the lead of this posting). To be fully alive, we humans must live from our core...the center of our being. This is the Imago....the Glory...of God. It is that image that shapes our actions and our relationships. And, yes, it is usually a far cry from what we actually see. Most often, we are not living from that core but from an idea or behavior we have been taught or have invented for ourselves as a way to mask fear or feelings of inadequacy. The abusively bullying father is fearful and objectifies that in pushing and berating his daughter's soccer skills.
True paradox is to have our ultimate nature "alongside" us. As Paul told the Ephesians, "Walk in love as Christ loved us..." To walk in love is to have the reflection of that love....Divine Glory...around us, or with us. It is that which drives the purest motives. What would that look like to the daughter on the soccer field? Her dad might encourage her by building her up and reflecting appropriate pride in what she is able to accomplish at her level of skills. It would also be the recognition that soccer may be something his daughter loves and enjoys but is not her ultimate passion. It could also be the humility to stand aside and let the camp personnel and coaching staff work with her and the other participants.
I did not become a zoologist or an anthropologist. I never contemplated politics. It is only my interest as a responsible citizen (more on the moral constructs of that at another time). I maintain a love for those disciplines and have continued to study both over the years...along with history, genetics, some physics and specialized psychological disciplines. In all of that, I see God erupting in surprising and wonderful ways. I see it among people of many backgrounds. Those "aha" moments of my craft drive my passion in life.
So, I am not living a paradox in the current meaning of the term. There are no contradictions. I am experiencing and expressing deep love for and investment in what God has given me throughout life and ordering them in my current stage of the journey. Embracing and appreciating the moment. This moment is what we know we have. To be fully alive in this moment is the Grand Paradox....The Glory of God!
Blessings and Namaste,
Fred+
01 June 2012
Kindness & Indifference
“There is no right or wrong in the trivialities of everyday life.”
--Dr. Abraham Low, MD, Psychiatrist
“One man’s meat is another man’s poison.”
--Old Saying, Source Unknown
I have never been really sure how it works, but I do know it has been a regular source of both pain and frustration throughout the 34 years of parish ministry since ordination. As a parish priest, one of my great joys was doing the pastoral work of being with the sick and suffering and doing pastoral counseling & spiritual direction. In doing this work, I have endeavored to be both present and deeply attentive to the persons in my care. How is it that one person can emerge from that experience deeply grateful for the time, kindness experienced, and what was accomplished. Then, another person, under similar circumstances will express frustration with “our priest’s indifference and distance.”
Over the years, I have tried to come at this dilemma from a variety of places. The most obvious is to ask the question: What am I doing wrong? That question is deadly insomuch as the questioner is assuming that something is wrong, and that the person providing the information wants the questioner to be like the accuser believes he/she should be. In fact, unless one is simply without the needed skills, there is no wrong being done.
Some days may be less effective than others. A headache, or not feeling well, can surely be a distraction to the important craft of attending to the pain or problems of another. The sheer weight of parochial responsibility is enough to be an occasional distraction. Such things do happen. My first year as Rector of my last parish was accomplished "solo." I was the only priest on staff for a very large parish for fifteen months. I remember a funeral at which I officiated being so tired and distracted by two other crises, that -- even by my own internal observation -- I was less than adequate. The family was right to be critical in their assessment of my leadership in that situation. I personally do not know a priest for whom this has not happened at least once. Fortunately, I was able to call an Associate, spread things out a bit and get a bit more sleep at nights.
Another approach to the issue is simply the personality of the priest. Most parishioners do expect their priest to be "on" and available at most any time of the day/night. It isn't a fair expectation. Without balance of family, work and rest, nothing can be done well. Taking a (required) regular day away from work each week has been critiqued as "Father doesn't care enough to be there when I went to the office looking for him/her." When one tries to be available at all times, very unhealthy things can happen in a family or to the health of the priest in question.
In terms of personality, the greatest percentage of clergy in the Episcopal Church are introverts. From the work of Dr. Carl Jung, a team created the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator in the late 1940s. This instrument has been revised a number of times and is considered one of the best tools for helping individuals assess their personality types. The research revealed that their are four scales: Extrovert-Introvert; Sensing-Intuiting; Thinking-Feeling; Judging-Perceiving. The combinations of the four scales means their are a total of sixteen personality types. Each one is unique and none of the types are better than the other. It is simply the way we are "hardwired."
I was a trained Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) consultant for a number of years (it got too expensive to be re-certified each year, so I dropped it and used a less technical instrument called the Kiersey Sorter for the balance of my parochial career). I have taken the MBTI a total of 26 times over the past 35 years. It has not changed but a fraction of percentage points. My Type is INFP. [Introvert-iNtuitive-Feeling-Perceiving]. It is a good type for folks who are counselors, therapists, teachers, philosophers, contemplatives or researchers.
Each of the scales run from 0 in the center of the scale to 49 on either end. When one does the statistical analysis required with the full MBTI, each type has a number associated with it. Zero means one is comfortable in either direction. Zero is extremely rare. One shades to one side or the other. The higher one goes on either end of the scale, the more one manifests the description of that type. I am an introvert, and I have tested from 39-42 on the Introvert side of the scale....that is a major Introvert!
MBTI scales are actually measures of energy. For me to be extroverted requires a great deal of energy. I can do it and maintain that posture for a good long while. I am practiced at it. But, there is a price to be paid...fatigue. After a typical Sunday morning (sociologists tell us that a priest working on a Sunday morning from about 7am to 12:30pm is the same as a nine hour weekday period of work), I would go home and take a two hour nap. It is the only day of the week I would nap....unless I had been up much of the night before with a pastoral emergency.
Earlier I mentioned that most priests are introverts. This particular type (especially the combined Introvert-iNtuitive...IN), is well suited for the kind of disciplines associated with meditation, contemplative prayer and doing the work of theology. To be connected with the divine at that level, one must be comfortable with one's right brain. You can go online and search "left brain-right brain" to get a more complete physiological and psychological discussion of how the two hemispheres of our brains function. Suffice it to say here, the right brain is the intuitive, wholistic, synthesizing and subjective area. The left brain is the sequential, rational, analytical, and objective area. Again neither of these are right or wrong. If there was a right or wrong here, we would only need half our brain. Anyone want to let go of one side or the other? [Just kidding here, but some people can get possessive of their particular definitions]. We do, however, generally favor one side or the other. In our culture, we are more left brained. That has been very true since about the time of the writings of the rationalist philosophers and since the middle of last century (after World War II) in our generations of American culture.
Personality type doesn't explain everything, but it is a huge help in understanding function. A priest who is Introverted and intuitive "reads between the lines" very quickly in a situation -- seeing both the reality and the possibility involved in another's critical events. For me, I can listen to another person's "story" and get a strong sense of what is underneath the objectified pain, anger or hurt. That's the intuitive person's gift.
That is NOT to say that extroverted priests are not good at their craft. They are excellent. My very best friend and colleague, Paul (died three years ago), was extroverted and intuitive. He could read a situation but had to use different tools to extrapolate the data. He gathered energy from his external environment. I would go deep inside in those moments. Paul was a wonderful, delightful and highly skilled priest. We were great friends. We also talked to each other a lot during difficult moments -- giving to each other the gifts of our types that were lacking. We had an ongoing, mutual consultation. Example: One time, I was hurting deeply over a painful situation in which I was being told that I was indifferent. When Paul listened to the details, his immediate response was, "forget about it, they'll get over it." Because he also used analytical logic to deal with issues, he would not see himself as being the problem. Sometimes, however, when he was in a situation, I would be telling him that he needed to exercise a bit more sensitivity and insight to get behind the problem. That is always a risky journey. The work I would do to gain appropriate professional distance and he would do to become more insightful left us both exhausted at the end of our situations.
An extroverted parishioner wants immediate answers that are logical, externally validating, and is reflected in the appropriate demeanor of the attending priest. This last evaluation means that the parishioner usually projects the pain on the priest who (in the parishioner's eyes) must reflect back a similar degree of pain or indignation. An introverted priest will listen carefully (while using spiritual tools to go underneath) and name the pain underneath. I remember a parishioner some years ago, who expressed great anger and indignation regarding something that had been done during a liturgy. As the parishioner completed the diatribe, I simply asked, "of what are you really afraid?" I wasn't being "flip" or indifferent. Deep-seated fear literally jumped out at me as I quietly and carefully listened (while others were leaving the church and not getting a hug or handshake from their rector..that's another issue).
My hope in retirement is to be a vessel for helping relationships achieve more understanding. By standing outside the vortex of daily pastoral ministry, it is easier to see both ends of the spectrum and provide the kind of guidance that will provide insight to the extrovert and boundaries for the introvert.
I haven't reflected on the parochial problem of ownership. This is huge and is not limited to any denomination. Even with the protection of the canons of the Episcopal and Roman Catholic traditions, this causes great pain. Next time.
Love and Blessings,
Fred+
26 May 2012
Of Corners and Markets
No doubt about the reality that one is often judged by the company one keeps. This can be as small as the company of an individual to the corporation for which one works. My thesis here is that such judgment is a patently absurd method for determining the full nature and character of another human being.
It wouldn't hurt to begin by citing the one we call the Christ of God: Jesus. The disciples he chose were not the cream of the Jewish social world of his day. One was employed by the Romans to collect the much hated taxes the Empire placed upon its subject peoples. Jews thought such a person to be ritually unclean and no better than a common criminal. Another was a political dissident whose aim, it ultimately seemed, was to enlist Jesus into the Zealot party....the radical anti-Roman and anti-Herodian rabble rousers. The balance of the Twelve were tradesmen -- common working folk who were considered important to the economic life of Israel but of little merit when it came to the truly "important" political and social strata of culture.
Jesus was regularly found teaching in the company of prostitutes, those who were considered ritually unclean, diseased and not even part of Judaism (the Gentiles). Jesus rarely responded to the accusations and judgments based upon the folks gathered around him. When he did respond, it was along the lines of, "unless you accept the least of these, you also reject me...." Of course, within that Aristotelian style logic, it also meant that they rejected the God of Creation. As we know, this ultimately cost Jesus his life....or at least the one that both Jews and Romans believed would deliver them from this meddlesome, itinerant rabbi. Oh, and speaking of rabbi, Jesus bore no credentials for that title....i.e. he had no "pedigree" of training (e.g. Paul was a student of Gameliel, the famous teacher of the Law).
Ultimately, the Church that is in place to reflect the very essence of its founding...Jesus...has become splintered asunder and about as elitist as the Sadducees that Jesus condemned for their kind of elitism and entitlement claims (they were the 1% of his day)*. Immediately, you might be screaming, "Foul!!" Fair enough. Could I be wrong in my own assessment? Perhaps. Could I be exercising my own kind of judgmentalism? Very possible. Except for one small point: I am intimately a part of the very thing of which I am currently being critical. Oh, and I'm not done yet.
The second example of my above stated thesis on judging another human being is the essence of the very culture in which I am also intimately a part -- the United States of America. I can hear it, "OMG, here he goes on a rant for sure." Nope. I encourage you to stay with me on this and at least catch my drift.
[As an aside for those who might not know me well: I rarely go on a rant of any kind. If I do, I usually believe I am within a boundary of some moral or ethical issue containing some depth. Also, I follow a rule that I learned in my studies of Bowen theory of Family Emotional Process via my mentor Dr. Edwin Friedman: In this life, no one gets better than 70% -- on a scale of 100 -- in terms of function. What this means is that, at least 30% of the time every one of us is in a willful mode of thinking and doing. A person who functions consistently at 70% is historically canonized by the Church or such institutions recognizing those who have achieved a level of "perfection" in this life.]
Back to the USA. The largest number of folks who came to the shores of this country were either exiles politically or fled their European homes due to religious intolerance. At first, this may not have been true of the English gentry and tradesmen who settled in Virginia and other colonies. However, by the time of the Revolution, those folks were at the very heart of a kind of dissidence considered intolerable by the Mother Country, England. The war was fought and independence from England won.
At the center of leadership were those who sponsored the Declaration of Independence and those who would constitute the First Continental Congress. It was the latter that drafted the Constitution of the new United States. This was, to be sure, a bold experiment in human culture....a system of government that recognized the capacity of human dignity in freedom and capability of living responsibly under laws crafted for mutual well-being. Further, ongoing leadership would be elected from its own citizenry. Any citizen could serve.
There were no legal boundaries for religious practices, lifestyles or ideologies. Laws were crafted based upon principles considered more or less universal....the Ten Commandments. Those Laws of Moses were foundational to mutual responsibility and dignity. The argument that our founders were Christian is without merit. There were deists, universalists and agnostics. Seriously, I have read enough biographies to have this part down pretty well. By many, God was "The Greatest Good" and not an entity or spiritual reality. Remember, our country was founded by those who had read Rousseau, Voltaire, Descartes, and Spinoza. Evangelical Christians of that time were Anglicans whose hearts had been "strangely stirred" (John Wesley's description).
My point in having our country as an example is its current state of affairs. Some anonymous wag once said, "call a man names, and he will get angry; fool with a man's money, he is likely as anything to kill you." Yep, I am hinting that money has become something of the Ultimate Reality and statement of human worth. You got it? You're in. You don't got it? You're out...or at least maximally marginalized. So, when our economic system shows signs of cracking or peeling, we look for someone to blame. It's usually the ones at the top of the elected heap. I get that. However, couldn't it be as much our chosen lifestyles and demands that have jacked things out of shape? Just askin' here.
Like the Church, our system of democracy...that bold experiment...is not quite what its framers envisioned. The Church isn't what Jesus envisioned...and that is based on my own experience as a priest in the Anglican (Episcopal) expression of this Body of Christ. I am also a life-long citizen of this country. My forebearers on both paternal and maternal sides fled from Scotland and northern England in the 1740s for political and religious reasons (both happened to be non-juring Anglicans living in a Calvinist country or in the northern part of a country that expected allegiance to the crown as part of their religious duty). My paternal side also backed the wrong political wing claiming the English crown (Bonnie Prince Charlie...a Scotsman). But all that is another story.
In our current climate, it seems as if those who would hold office want to move us back to a place of exclusivity and cultural monochromism. One not only has to be Christian (because we are "a God-fearing Christian nation"...a very tired phrase), one has to be a particular kind of Christian or come from a particular kind of group. The freedom and tolerance taught by our founders wasn't perfect by a long shot. We had to fight a war that cost over 600,000 lives to get a foothold on racial tolerance. We still aren't there in full measure.
When the radical Christian leadership of its day did have some clout, they claimed that God had "ordained" those from European countries to subdue and rule the land between the two great oceans. This was termed "Manifest Destiny." It cost the lives of many, many more thousands of indigenous people who had been here at least 10,000 years before us. Some of those indigenous cultures were rendered extinct. The rest were subjugated like a conquered and marginalized people. To this day, the First Nations (Native American) peoples are judged harshly by many. Personally, I truly think the Lakota should have the Black Hills returned to them. It was their "cathedral" -- a sacred ground. Why do we have it? There was gold in those hills....the opportunity for wealth made it our "destiny" to possess the land....thus breaking the Treaty of 1868 (the 8th treaty with the Lakota alone). Nope. Not much has changed from the time of Jesus and the Sadducees.
I am not a cynic. Thank goodness my parents did not raise us to be such. My first question is always, "Okay, what's good about this?" I do almost always find that good....maybe only a sliver, but that is all that is needed. I don't whine when I am not getting my way. God does know that we can be such whiners when our sandbox gets invaded by those not of our liking. It's the adult version of, "he's playing with my stuff." If we don't like who is leading, we live in a system that allows us to elect another at the appropriate time. What good is it to cast judgment and call names? For crying out loud folks!! Whoever is in whatever office, they are created in the image of God the very same as we are...not more or less...the VERY same. At least show the dignity due every human being.
I daily pray for those I don't necessarily care for. I don't care for them insomuch as I don't want to spend quality time with them. I DO care for them, because they are my brothers and sisters...regardless of where they come from, color of skin, education, socio-economic status. As I pray, I do so for their safety, well-being and becoming what God has actually created them to be. It is a grave error to pray for someone to become what WE think they should or need to be. Who knows, but what we think is right and good may well be in that 30% that would be considered willful, dysfunctional or not of God (i.e. sin). I have a right to hold on to that 30%, but I do not have a right to foist it on others as an expectation of their function and behavior.
This country has come a long way since World War II, but we are regressing a bit of late. It does seem that we are risking a new kind of elitism, a kind of anarchy or a kind of oligarchy that would narrow the scope of who is in and who is out. Do I worry about this? You bet. But I am hopeful. In all such experiments as ours, there is risk. Power is a dangerous thing, and our founders were experienced in the effects of power misused. That's why our government is formed the way it is. Power is divided. Obamacare? Give it a rest. That is an oligarchic statement. At least 537 people were involved in making that law...whether they supported it or not. Am I supporting it in this statement? No. Am I going to tell you what I think about this new healthcare plan? No. It's non-sequitur to my thesis.
The only way out is the way we came in. Whatever one wants to call God or how one wants to perceive God, the element of human life that gives it quality is a love that penetrates all barriers and embraces all creation. It is the image in which we have been created. It is the responsibility we have been given: to exercise responsibility, to live with dignity, to embrace our fellow humans and to come to a place of being one in heart and spirit. This Oneness was underneath the bold experiment that created our country. It was at the heart of what was begun as the Church in Jesus. It is at the heart of the Buddha, Mohammed, Wakan-tanka, and all who have sought the Highest Good....God.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
My Love to You,
Fred+
Retired and, yes, Running Amok
*Note: I am grateful to my friend, Dr. Kern Trembath, systematic theologian, New Testament scholar and coffee artisan. He offered information regarding the Sanhedrin and roles of the Pharisees and Sadducees in that system. Very appreciated!
It wouldn't hurt to begin by citing the one we call the Christ of God: Jesus. The disciples he chose were not the cream of the Jewish social world of his day. One was employed by the Romans to collect the much hated taxes the Empire placed upon its subject peoples. Jews thought such a person to be ritually unclean and no better than a common criminal. Another was a political dissident whose aim, it ultimately seemed, was to enlist Jesus into the Zealot party....the radical anti-Roman and anti-Herodian rabble rousers. The balance of the Twelve were tradesmen -- common working folk who were considered important to the economic life of Israel but of little merit when it came to the truly "important" political and social strata of culture.
Jesus was regularly found teaching in the company of prostitutes, those who were considered ritually unclean, diseased and not even part of Judaism (the Gentiles). Jesus rarely responded to the accusations and judgments based upon the folks gathered around him. When he did respond, it was along the lines of, "unless you accept the least of these, you also reject me...." Of course, within that Aristotelian style logic, it also meant that they rejected the God of Creation. As we know, this ultimately cost Jesus his life....or at least the one that both Jews and Romans believed would deliver them from this meddlesome, itinerant rabbi. Oh, and speaking of rabbi, Jesus bore no credentials for that title....i.e. he had no "pedigree" of training (e.g. Paul was a student of Gameliel, the famous teacher of the Law).
Ultimately, the Church that is in place to reflect the very essence of its founding...Jesus...has become splintered asunder and about as elitist as the Sadducees that Jesus condemned for their kind of elitism and entitlement claims (they were the 1% of his day)*. Immediately, you might be screaming, "Foul!!" Fair enough. Could I be wrong in my own assessment? Perhaps. Could I be exercising my own kind of judgmentalism? Very possible. Except for one small point: I am intimately a part of the very thing of which I am currently being critical. Oh, and I'm not done yet.
The second example of my above stated thesis on judging another human being is the essence of the very culture in which I am also intimately a part -- the United States of America. I can hear it, "OMG, here he goes on a rant for sure." Nope. I encourage you to stay with me on this and at least catch my drift.
[As an aside for those who might not know me well: I rarely go on a rant of any kind. If I do, I usually believe I am within a boundary of some moral or ethical issue containing some depth. Also, I follow a rule that I learned in my studies of Bowen theory of Family Emotional Process via my mentor Dr. Edwin Friedman: In this life, no one gets better than 70% -- on a scale of 100 -- in terms of function. What this means is that, at least 30% of the time every one of us is in a willful mode of thinking and doing. A person who functions consistently at 70% is historically canonized by the Church or such institutions recognizing those who have achieved a level of "perfection" in this life.]
Back to the USA. The largest number of folks who came to the shores of this country were either exiles politically or fled their European homes due to religious intolerance. At first, this may not have been true of the English gentry and tradesmen who settled in Virginia and other colonies. However, by the time of the Revolution, those folks were at the very heart of a kind of dissidence considered intolerable by the Mother Country, England. The war was fought and independence from England won.
At the center of leadership were those who sponsored the Declaration of Independence and those who would constitute the First Continental Congress. It was the latter that drafted the Constitution of the new United States. This was, to be sure, a bold experiment in human culture....a system of government that recognized the capacity of human dignity in freedom and capability of living responsibly under laws crafted for mutual well-being. Further, ongoing leadership would be elected from its own citizenry. Any citizen could serve.
There were no legal boundaries for religious practices, lifestyles or ideologies. Laws were crafted based upon principles considered more or less universal....the Ten Commandments. Those Laws of Moses were foundational to mutual responsibility and dignity. The argument that our founders were Christian is without merit. There were deists, universalists and agnostics. Seriously, I have read enough biographies to have this part down pretty well. By many, God was "The Greatest Good" and not an entity or spiritual reality. Remember, our country was founded by those who had read Rousseau, Voltaire, Descartes, and Spinoza. Evangelical Christians of that time were Anglicans whose hearts had been "strangely stirred" (John Wesley's description).
My point in having our country as an example is its current state of affairs. Some anonymous wag once said, "call a man names, and he will get angry; fool with a man's money, he is likely as anything to kill you." Yep, I am hinting that money has become something of the Ultimate Reality and statement of human worth. You got it? You're in. You don't got it? You're out...or at least maximally marginalized. So, when our economic system shows signs of cracking or peeling, we look for someone to blame. It's usually the ones at the top of the elected heap. I get that. However, couldn't it be as much our chosen lifestyles and demands that have jacked things out of shape? Just askin' here.
Like the Church, our system of democracy...that bold experiment...is not quite what its framers envisioned. The Church isn't what Jesus envisioned...and that is based on my own experience as a priest in the Anglican (Episcopal) expression of this Body of Christ. I am also a life-long citizen of this country. My forebearers on both paternal and maternal sides fled from Scotland and northern England in the 1740s for political and religious reasons (both happened to be non-juring Anglicans living in a Calvinist country or in the northern part of a country that expected allegiance to the crown as part of their religious duty). My paternal side also backed the wrong political wing claiming the English crown (Bonnie Prince Charlie...a Scotsman). But all that is another story.
In our current climate, it seems as if those who would hold office want to move us back to a place of exclusivity and cultural monochromism. One not only has to be Christian (because we are "a God-fearing Christian nation"...a very tired phrase), one has to be a particular kind of Christian or come from a particular kind of group. The freedom and tolerance taught by our founders wasn't perfect by a long shot. We had to fight a war that cost over 600,000 lives to get a foothold on racial tolerance. We still aren't there in full measure.
When the radical Christian leadership of its day did have some clout, they claimed that God had "ordained" those from European countries to subdue and rule the land between the two great oceans. This was termed "Manifest Destiny." It cost the lives of many, many more thousands of indigenous people who had been here at least 10,000 years before us. Some of those indigenous cultures were rendered extinct. The rest were subjugated like a conquered and marginalized people. To this day, the First Nations (Native American) peoples are judged harshly by many. Personally, I truly think the Lakota should have the Black Hills returned to them. It was their "cathedral" -- a sacred ground. Why do we have it? There was gold in those hills....the opportunity for wealth made it our "destiny" to possess the land....thus breaking the Treaty of 1868 (the 8th treaty with the Lakota alone). Nope. Not much has changed from the time of Jesus and the Sadducees.
I am not a cynic. Thank goodness my parents did not raise us to be such. My first question is always, "Okay, what's good about this?" I do almost always find that good....maybe only a sliver, but that is all that is needed. I don't whine when I am not getting my way. God does know that we can be such whiners when our sandbox gets invaded by those not of our liking. It's the adult version of, "he's playing with my stuff." If we don't like who is leading, we live in a system that allows us to elect another at the appropriate time. What good is it to cast judgment and call names? For crying out loud folks!! Whoever is in whatever office, they are created in the image of God the very same as we are...not more or less...the VERY same. At least show the dignity due every human being.
I daily pray for those I don't necessarily care for. I don't care for them insomuch as I don't want to spend quality time with them. I DO care for them, because they are my brothers and sisters...regardless of where they come from, color of skin, education, socio-economic status. As I pray, I do so for their safety, well-being and becoming what God has actually created them to be. It is a grave error to pray for someone to become what WE think they should or need to be. Who knows, but what we think is right and good may well be in that 30% that would be considered willful, dysfunctional or not of God (i.e. sin). I have a right to hold on to that 30%, but I do not have a right to foist it on others as an expectation of their function and behavior.
This country has come a long way since World War II, but we are regressing a bit of late. It does seem that we are risking a new kind of elitism, a kind of anarchy or a kind of oligarchy that would narrow the scope of who is in and who is out. Do I worry about this? You bet. But I am hopeful. In all such experiments as ours, there is risk. Power is a dangerous thing, and our founders were experienced in the effects of power misused. That's why our government is formed the way it is. Power is divided. Obamacare? Give it a rest. That is an oligarchic statement. At least 537 people were involved in making that law...whether they supported it or not. Am I supporting it in this statement? No. Am I going to tell you what I think about this new healthcare plan? No. It's non-sequitur to my thesis.
The only way out is the way we came in. Whatever one wants to call God or how one wants to perceive God, the element of human life that gives it quality is a love that penetrates all barriers and embraces all creation. It is the image in which we have been created. It is the responsibility we have been given: to exercise responsibility, to live with dignity, to embrace our fellow humans and to come to a place of being one in heart and spirit. This Oneness was underneath the bold experiment that created our country. It was at the heart of what was begun as the Church in Jesus. It is at the heart of the Buddha, Mohammed, Wakan-tanka, and all who have sought the Highest Good....God.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
My Love to You,
Fred+
Retired and, yes, Running Amok
*Note: I am grateful to my friend, Dr. Kern Trembath, systematic theologian, New Testament scholar and coffee artisan. He offered information regarding the Sanhedrin and roles of the Pharisees and Sadducees in that system. Very appreciated!
18 May 2012
Anhinga
The Anhinga is one of the strangest birds I have known. I never get tired of watching them when they are at work -- if I can keep up with them. You see, they are not like other water birds. Related (a bit distantly) to the Cormorant, they have a longer neck than a goose; tail feathers that spread widely and a large wingspan. Their beaks are narrow and sharp.
The big difference from other water birds is that Anhingas (like cormorants) do not have water repellent feathers. When in the water, their bodies are submerged. All one can see is the head and part of the neck. Because the Anghinga has a very long neck, one can mistake this bird for a water snake, as it swims. This has led long-time Floridians to call them "snake birds." Anhingas dive and can stay submerged for a substantial period of time....only to pop up some distance away or within the shoreline water grasses. While submerged, they scoot along the bottom of fresh water lakes or ponds looking for small fish, frogs or other small marine life as their diet.
When finished with its swimming expedition, the Anhinga must dry its feathers. It can be seen with its wings and tail feathers spread wide and its neck either fully extended upward or curved down to its chest. It will remain like this until dry enough to fly. Their low level flight looks ungainly and awkward. However, once it gains altitude, it soars quite well on wind currents. The male Anhinga is usually all black. The female has some brown on her neck. During mating season, males develop a line of white feathers along the front edges of their wings. The picture above is a male Anhinga drying his feathers.
When I was a teenager, I often went fishing with my maternal grandfather. As I have mentioned in other places Grandad Burden was an entomologist and true outdoorsman. He taught me to fish, hunt and track. The hardest thing to learn was to track an Anhinga on the move. They are very quiet swimmers and exceedingly efficient in the water...moving at surprising speeds. Their heads very suddenly disappear below the surface, and, except for the ripples created by their submerging, they travel with speed and stealth underwater. It makes them very effective aquatic hunters.
My Grandad could usually predict where an Anhinga would surface, and I never could understand how he knew this. All he would say is, "I think we will find this fellow right about there..." He would point and be within a few yards of where the bird would, in fact, surface. One acquires this skill, I suspect, from years of observation and participation in the environment. I have not known many folks who could navigate the waters, woodlands and swamps of Florida like my Grandad. I always felt safe and oriented when with him. He taught me a great deal, and I still retain a lot of that to this day.
I do have a point here. There was an Anhinga in our pond this morning. It was swimming and hunting for breakfast as I consumed my first cup of coffee at sunrise. I did track him for one dive but then lost him after that. I thought about how well adapted the Anhinga is to its environment. It lives its life within its capabilities and specialties. It lives by its very nature.
My grandad did not change the environment to suit him. He adapted to the environment in which he would find himself. He developed skills that would allow him to shift and reshape himself to listen, observe, smell and move in ways that would say to anyone with him that he was perfectly comfortable and capable in the place he found himself.
We are at home in the environment of our body and essential character....Imago Dei...God's image. Often, it seems, we work very hard to make that something that it is not...to rewrite the script of our being. Often, we overthink what it all means and lose the meaning altogether in a jumble of words, conjectures or synthetic ideologies.
True character is in the oneness of relationship for its own sake. Our nature is to love, to adapt to be open and to express the Christ in us. (It is a point of observation that when my grandad worshipped ... he was Episcopalian ... he rarely picked up the Book of Common Prayer...why?...because he became familiar enough with it to make it part of his interior landscape).
St. Paul reflected that wherever we find ourselves, we are at home. There is nothing about creation that should be "unhomelike" to us.
Love and Blessings,
Fred+
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