Christmas break

I haven't taken down my tree or decorations. I certainly haven't put away the nativity scene. After all, the magi haven't even gotten to the manger yet; they're still sitting on the other end of the mantle working their way to babe.

No, Christmas still moves joyfully towards Epiphany on January 6. It's still Christmas break! I relish this season and don't want it to end. I love that the "Twelve Days of Christmas" is sung out at this time because it means the one day of joy isn't merely the commercialized behemoth defining Christmas. We celebrate the season liturgically because it's supposed to be remembered and celebrated.

When we were in Egypt three years ago, our Coptic tour guide in Cairo asked us what did we do before Christmas. We told him we shopped and had parties. He was frankly quite surprised. Coptic Christians fasted throughout Advent ending on the day they celebrate Christmas. That date happens to be January 6, which is our Epiphany. They are basically vegan throughout Advent and have nothing remotely similar to our abundant celebrations until Christmas itself.

Since that time, I thought of this often. I know my Advent has toned down dramatically since that trip. Fasting is a physical trial that affects your behavior and mind. People who fast before Christmas are obviously serious about waiting for the Christ child in reflection and repentance. And, when Christmas is celebrated, the feasting is a release, a joy, a sharing of abundance that marks any end of a fast.

So yes, I'm still celebrating Christmas. I had a wonderful weekly tour of the Creation by driving through California. We saw blowing beaches, sleeping elephant seals, floating kites, the extreme rich, soaring redwoods, the homeless, walkable villages, and squishy jellyfish. What a wonderful way to celebrate the babe Jesus! Creation celebrated by Christians focuses on human creation, but Jesus came to earth to walk on the earth, swim in its waters, pray on the streets.

We explored California to see nature in all of its glory. By celebrating the beauty of all Creation, it was much easier to pray on the beauty of Jesus brought to us as an infant.

So yes, the fast is over. Let us enjoy the Christmas break by breaking bread with each other and work towards a world where we recognize every day the incarnation of God's beauty all around us.

My New Year's Prayer

You smile as an infant grasps your finger tight
And you smile at the promise of her life
At the hope of a life fulfilled, a joy incarnate

May we discover that we all are God's children
Full of promise, of hope, of life, of joy
That we are loved with a nurturing smile

May we be the strength and shoulder
To those needing our care and loving hands
Opening their eyes to the joy inside

Grant us the courage to be washed of our old ways
Creating a life this year filled with confidence and strength
Fed and held by powerful hands that carry us on our journey

Because to start the year anew
Means accepting with childlike wonder and trust
The hand that offers unconditional love

Christmas Eve Reflections - Who's in and Who's out?

A family of humble origins. 

Not from around around here.

Don't think they're royalty. 

Doubt they're rich.

Some sort of non-traditional family.

Are they homeless? 

They don't belong here.

It's hard for me to read the Christmas passages without imagining a come-from-behind story. This isn't a winner sweep. There's no Triple Crown here. We're talking about an unlikely winner, a child and out-of-towners.

They didn't belong. They didn't fit in.

One focus of this Christmas is to examine in my heart if I am welcoming this family into my life. Do I reject them and their family? Do I separate them, like we do immigrants in this country?

Have I made mistakes in the past? Sure. Just a few days ago, I forgot who I wanted to be and remembered once more how much effort it takes to live out the life Christ demanded.

My mind was distracted by a Christmas shopping rush slamming against a busy work day. I had only a sliver of time to grab a meal before going on to my next meeting. I ran into a local eatery and grabbed a meal which I was wolfing it down.

A gentleman of seemingly modest means asked if I would mind buying him lunch. In my rush, I shook my head and grumbled that I was late and I had to get going. I might have even growled and rolled my eyes.

He disappeared, before I realized what I had done. I searched the restaurant, the parking lot, the nearby bus stop. He was gone. I chased him away with my cold, uncaring heart.

We were two blocks from Union Station Homeless Services, a place I lavish time and donations to support, and yet here, in my self-focus, my self-importance, my me-first attitude, here I sat, food in hand, heart like a stone in my stomach. I spend countless hours helping and trying to help, and yet with a couple painful words trample on the life I was trying to nurture.

I turned away a simple, honest request for mercy. I sent him away to his manger.

I ran to my car and wept.

If I could redo those precious moments once more, the story line would have been different. That man would have gotten a warm meal. I wouldn't have dismissed his presence with my rush. My anxiety and attention to my life would not blind me to the hunger in another. If only I could relive that moment.

Lord, grant me the breath and space to see cracks of light in the darkness of my blinders, that I might see the ones in need, that I might see the potential of greatness, that I might be the welcoming embodiment of warmth, spirit, and life.

Advent reflection - The 4th Candle and The Love That Twerks

We lit the fourth candle on the Advent wreath at All Saints Pasadena this weekend. It's the candle of love, and it had me pondering about "love" and what it means to me.

In tv, movies, and romance novels, it seems that love is about passion - raw, wild, intense. We at church seem to shake our heads when love is brought up in these terms. We tut-tut it because it's just so inappropriate and ought to be private and in the dark, under covers, and certainly not before you've finished school.

On the other hand, in church, we often talk about the love of God as a paternal or maternal uberforce, with a strength that moves mountains, that conquers evil, making valleys level. This is a love that can beat the tar out of death and and yet was first made tangible in the form of a helpless infant.

While watching the sunrise on the trails this morning, I'm resistant walking a path of a love mapped out in either of these directions. It just sounds so simplistic, superficial. It's doesn't feel adequate in either scenario, and it certainly doesn't feel sustainable.

I know what feels like love to me. Love feels like sitting on the sofa with my Mom Saturday, both of us too full of eating bad food but knowing we're celebrating the season together. Love feels like listening to the nieces play guitar and sing together as I watch as a spectator in the audience, and as a participant by listening to them share their joy. Love feels like when I watch Dad transform into a kid again while he watches his grandchildren open gifts.

It's also hanging with the inlaws, just catching up despite the distances traveled by some, without a schedule, without needing to be rushed. Love this past month at home meant sitting with my fiance, filling out Christmas cards, cleaning up the house, perhaps while he bakes and I cook, sitting together listening to music, watching football games.

This love isn't intense. It's stable. Solid. Boring even. Love made plain because it needs no ornamentation.

And yet... the path of love isn't only about walking a straight road.

For love is not about isolation or nesting. We as always help out at Union Station Homeless Services on Thanksgiving Day for the Dinner in the Park event. We helped organize the setup this year. On Christmas Day, our larger family is joining in. After the Christmas Eve services where I'm singing and serving as a lay minister, after the family breakfast and gift giving, the family will join us as we finish Christmas Day in the park and do tear down and cleanup.

Love in this case is about sharing our time with the friend dressed as a stranger. When younger, I used to fall for the cultural stereotype that the homeless are lazy bums just looking for a handout. But, as Pope Francis has described, who am I to judge? There are people on the streets who shouldn't be treated as second class human beings. And for the Christians out there, to paraphrase Episcopal Bishop Barbara Harris, there's no such thing as a second rate baptism.

Many of the homeless are children, the innocent, the babes barely out of the manger. Recently, a powerful article called Homeless for the Holidays: Ending a Nation's Cruel Indifference to Homeless Youth moved me to tears. I know that in my community, one out of five homeless are youth. Love on a daily basis for me might be simple and about sharing time, but when I come face to face with those who are cold, weary, and hungry, love means doing something. Love for all of God's creatures means taking action. I feel compelled to do something because I do love Creation. Leaning back against a well and watching fellow brothers and sisters struggle doesn't ring true. 

Love means moving away from the wall and getting down on the dance floor.

I've never twerked in my life, and I imagine I'll sooner bust a hip before I ever bust such a move. But that delirious almost Pentacostal wildness is what's needed when we try to help others. I might be content, sated even, with gentleness and candlelight at home, but we need strobe lights and a bouncing spirit to bring real help to those who need shelter and food. It's passion that's just as sweaty, intense, and gritty as any romance novel. 

Sometimes we groove to a slow dance. Sometimes we're moved to hip-grinding wildness. But, no matter how we're moved, let sway to the unrelenting rhythms of God's music.

As I walked down the trails to my home wondering what an Advent of love means to me, I did a little skip, a little hop, a tiny dance. Once home, I gently woke up my fiance home on his Christmas vacation. In my soul, I was getting ready to twerk for all of God's family.

Hello! My name is Marriage Equality

Two states in two days. I like the folks in New Mexico. Truly, I'm happy that they got marriage equality yesterday. But today's news that UTAH's marriage ban was ruled unconstitutional, well that's different.

It's personal.

Despite a history of compassion and integration among neighbors, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (the Mormons) spent considerable time, effort, and money in California to usher in Proposition 8. Prop 8 has for many of us living in California been nothing short of a disaster. It represented the ability of a plutocratic, demagogic majority to withdraw equality from a set of citizens. Prop 8 wasn't the same as the Japanese internment, but I got a keener understanding of what mass discrimination meant on a personal level.

Prop 8 wasn't foisted upon us Californians, as we voted it into place ourselves, but the LDS influence was considerable and notable. And I could not marry the person I loved in California because of Prop 8.

So I couldn't help but jump for joy, yelping when I saw the news. Today Utah, home of the LDS, had its own constitutional marriage ban ruled unconstitutional, just as California's was ruled unconstitutional by the Supreme Court in June 2013.

This isn't a matter of spite to me. It's not a matter of gloating for those who believe that they can define marriage for others who don't love the people they're expected to love.

Instead, I'm thrilled, thrilled because all the wonderful and caring gay people of Utah now have a way to be honest about their relationships, to let it be known that their love for each other is deep, God-given, and blessed by the Holy Spirit. If they lack a church, they can at least have that relationship acknowledged by the state as much as it is by the federal government. I'm thrilled because people don't have to "turn it off" and pretend that their love doesn't matter as much as the person's next door. I'm thrilled because the arc of history is long, and it really is bending towards justice.

I've cared deeply about some the wonderful people of Utah ever since I started doing business there two decades ago. And it hurt to see so many people having to push their families into the closet. And worse, it was painful to see so many people from Utah come into California and affect our own families.

The musical "Book of Mormon" has a lovely ballad called "Sal Tlay Ka Siti" (as in Salt Lake City, get it?), sung by a girl from an impoverished African village. She dreams of a Sal Tlay Ka Siti paradise so much better than her own land. Some lyrics include:

And I'll bet the people are open-minded and don't care who you've been
And all I hope is that when I find it, I'm able to fit in...
Will I fit in?  

I pray that the people of Utah will find it in their hearts to be open to the message of understanding and hope that today's news brings. It is the season of Advent after all, and for me, the love and joy that surpasses all understanding may be wandering into the mountainous west. Will we fit in? Maybe, just maybe, yes.

Advent Prayer for our Labyrinth Ministry

A little prayer for our Labyrinth Ministry gathering last night at All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena.



God of hope and light,
We journey with you,
   to a modest stable
   and a new-born Babe.

May our ears tune
   to the song of angels,
May our eyes open
   to the shining star for guidance,
May our feet dance
   to the rhythms of the Holy Spirit.

May we forge ahead on our shared journey
   Without distraction
   Without fear
   Without darkness.

May our hearts and minds be set on fire
   with the hope of Christmas
   and the promise of our Peace.

Advent 3 - The Candle of Joy. So be Joyful. Now!

The third candle of Advent was lit at church this weekend. It's the candle of joy. I'm all for joy. After all, we look forward to Christmas because we expect to be full of cheer, mirth, and happiness. We're exhorted to be joyful in the Bible, such as in Romans 12:12 - "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."

But it's awfully hard to be joyful all the time, much less an entire liturgical season. Thankfully, the candle is only for the last half of the Advent wreath. Nonetheless, at this time of year, the streets are filled with cars heading to malls, people stand in shopping queues that will last seemingly for hours, and the gift item you were looking for can't be found anywhere. I do almost all my gift shopping online precisely to avoid these problems.

And for this, I'm supposed to have some creepy smile of joy that doesn't often feel sincere?

Joy isn't even what we think it is. Joy is internal. All the back-slapping, laughing, carousing, and joking we think of joy is on the outside. It's the outward manifestation of something going on inside. Like all things on the surface, that external happiness can be spackled on with a trowel and made to brighten our facade. It can easily mask cracks and pains that we want to hide.

I admit, I'm usually the optimist. I'm not content to say the glass is always half full; I would rather drink what's in that glass and ask for another. But you can't make someone joyful or optimistic. Joy comes from within. And sometimes, you hit a granite slab and that well runs dry. Even the very act of smiling can be painful.

I was with the same person for eighteen years. For a long time, we were happy and gay. Not carefree, because the young have a lot of worries regarding money, but somehow it didn't seem so bad. When the relationship began to fray, I became confused and depressed. Oh yes, I put on a smile as was expected. But I wasn't happy, and I certainly wasn't content.

When it all came crashing down and the relationship ended, there was no faking it. I couldn't smile. I had no joy to tap into to bring those smiles out. I took a sabbatical from choir because literally every hymn made me cry. I didn't cry out of sadness for me or for others.

I cried because I had no joy welling inside of me, and music is, at its heart, powered by that joy. When asked, I would explain that I felt as though the Holy Spirit forgot who I was and left me a vacant sack of memories.

That season of Christmas and Easter was awful. I had no strength to fake a grin. Sure I'd laugh with others, but it made a hollow sound, a tinny chuckle heard as though laughing into an empty can. It took time - a slow, painful journey of personal reconciliation and reflection - to find that the love of God was inside me still. It was obscured by my pain, by my guilt, by my self-flagellation. I needed to wait out this game of hide and seek and let that love once again walk into the light.

There's no magic way to bring joy back into your dark spaces. I wasn't a Grinch with a heart ten sizes too small, waiting for the Whoos to sing around a wrecked tree. And when I see people today with sad, empty eyes, I don't try to cheer them up or force them to feel happy.

I just hug them. Or e-hug them. Or smile with them. And most of all, I listen to them.

And together, maybe, just maybe, we'll eventually hear a little sound of joy. Maybe, just maybe, we can light that third candle and let a little light shine out through the darkness of winter.

Advent: A Season of Renewing or a Season of Recalculating

Advent offers us a season of both hopeful waiting and penitential renewal. We shop, share, celebrate, and we also take stock of where we've been this past year and what we resolve to do during the next year.

Scholar, author, and theologian Marcus Borg has recently blogged about the unfortunate emphasis on that penitence, that we should instead be focusing on the coming joy over the enduring sin. It caused me to nod in some agreement, but I couldn't get totally comfortable with his suggestion. Part of the Advent season to me is about retrospection, with a review of the past year, with prayers of a better year. It's hard to hope for future joy, justice, and peace without grasping all that isn't joyful, just, and peaceful today.

Then, a recent sermon by All Saints Pasadena priest Reverend +Janine Schenone was posted on her blog. It gave me something to hang my hat on, a way to see Advent in a way that's more comfortable with both the current way of looking at it and Borg's proposed viewpoint.

For penitence to me -- Advent, Lent, or otherwise --  isn't so much about guilt and sin as an opportunity for renewal. I gave up guilt decades ago during one Lent and have generally been good at recognizing and ducking it ever since. Guilt is backwards-focused. Renewal is backwards-informed and future-focused.

Let me be the first person in the room to say that I actually don't find the word "renewal" satisfying. It's awfully tough to make something new once again. Have you ever bought a refurbished car or eBay item? Not exactly accurate if they were trying to make it "new" once more. A renewal subscription isn't entirely accurate either. I want them to "extend" my subscription, recognizing my commitment to the service or product - for good points and bad - worthy of sticking with it for more time. I want my faith, like my subscriptions, to be extended with commitment, not just renewed.

Maybe I'm picky about the term, maybe I'm just a word connoisseur. In any case, renewal leaves me unsatisfied when talking about penitential seasons.

So instead, to a techie like myself, it seems more fitting to think of Advent as a time to recalculate like a GPS or phone app giving directions. I know where I am, and it's not where I want to be; I know that I should be in a different place. Recalculate that GPS, and we find our journey making a little more sense. Recalculating rather than renewing guides me away from the problems and that I've found myself in and towards my desired destinations, the places I want to go.

Reverend Schenone views Advent as:

...an opportunity to examine our relationships with others and with God–a time to ask, “Can we start over?” Advent doesn't require us to bathe ourselves in guilt. It doesn't require us to eliminate all the sin or bad things in our lives. That just isn't possible. Even Jesus did not eliminate all the evil in the world or heal all of the sick during his years of ministry. But while we are waiting for the birth of this Prince of Peace, we can accept the responsibility to be peacemakers–to be sources of reconciliation, even if in very small ways, in our lives.

We also can accept responsibility for our relationship with God. A sense of awe and wonder and humility around the coming appearance of the Infant Jesus does not require us to fear the judgment of an angry God. In response to those who oppose the idea of Advent as a season of penitence, David Bartlett writes about Advent, “Perhaps the church can give up judgment, but we cannot give up responsibility."

This works for me. For example, in my previous post "Disposable Me - an Advent Reflection" about the older gentleman on the jet, I cannot correct all suffering and I shouldn't feel guilty about everything that I see around me. But I can accept responsibility for my initial thoughts and reactions, for actions and inactions, for focusing on my wants and needs reflexively, without consideration of others. I'm blessed with a fiance who is astonishingly gifted in seeing the world from other people's eyes. A season of penitence isn't merely renewing myself, then, so much as recalculating where I want to be and where I want to go. I want the freedom to be the person I was meant to be.

So our relationship with others and our relationship with God involves not making things new, at least to me. I want to learn from my mistakes and be guided by them. I don't want to repeat my errors. Instead, I want to recalculate and go from there. As Reverend Schenone said, "We can start over with God."

May the meditations of my heart, with the inspiration of the saints who guide me, grow ever more aligned with God this Advent season. I pray that our gracious God moves me to the place where I want to be, to blossom from the person that I was and am into the life-sharing spirit that I am intended to be.

Disposable Me - an Advent reflection

I posted an article on Facebook yesterday about an incident on a jet. It's a little story, but it has affected my Advent meditations.

It was my last flight of the year, which is meaningful since I travel 100,000-150,000 miles every year. This year was remarkably easy, as I only visited three continents, in contrast to six as I have in the past several years. Most of the travel is work, with some of it for growth and vacation.

I mentioned that on this flight, a very old man who didn't speak English was delaying that last flight of my year. He wouldn't sit down and the flight attendants could not lock the door with his wandering. He was dressed ethnically, looked confused and was likely mentally distant and confused. I had seen him taken in a wheelchair to the jet. I was in the third row of this American Airlines flight, so I saw all the interactions with the crew. His caregiver, possibly a friend or grandson, was trying to explain what he needed to do, but he was resistant and confused.

His behavior was angering people who were in a rush to make connecting flights. Quite a number were connecting in Los Angeles to continue to Hawaii for vacations. A few were band members who might have had a gig to attend. I saw soldiers who probably wanted to see their families. And I was tired, eager to enjoy the Advent season at home and my church, All Saints Pasadena.

Sadness overcame me because his dementia was palpable and people didn't seem to notice. He was in the way of our immediate wants. I felt guilty because until I saw his age and his condition, I just wanted him to sit down and listen to the flight attendants. But when I did see, a light sparked in me and I realized that what I wanted wasn't him to sit down.

What I wanted was travel mercies for all on the plane but, more especially, mercy on those like this man who lived a full life but needed just a little more time.

After about 15 minutes of delay, he just was escorted off the plane by his companion. He was disposable. My heart broke for him and the family. He looked dapper with a nice suit and hat, but his eyes were vacant and sad.

I knew the flight attendants had to be firm, but they were empathetic and uncomfortable. His companion was distressed. I felt bad they got off the flight instead of heading on to see family and friends. I prayed that it might be best thing to occur, given his present condition. We left after another 15 minutes delay, as the airline had to take his bags out of checked luggage as required for security.

Which brings to to my reflection on the challenges of so many families, especially during the dark times of winter, in the bleak winter, when songs of cheer often cause melancholy because the world feels broken and unforgiving.

I could not help but imagine that it was me with Mang (phonetically how my siblings and I called our paternal grandmother) struggling in her decline. That personal story is why my research at the University of Southern California was in Alzheimer's disease. It's also why I left the field because I get profoundly tearful by it from an existential level.

Life is full of sadness, challenges, and changes of directions. People who were once mighty and powerful in spirit, mind, and body can be laid low by the punishment of time. I find the difficulties of dementia to be very provocative: who are we really? What is our soul doing when our mind isn't playing kindly? Where's the Holy Spirit when we begin walking down these paths?

I wonder about this older gentleman, my new friend in spirit. Where is he now? Is he scared? Does he know he's loved?

Advent as a season of waiting and repentance is not about waiting for death or choosing something that will fix things for us. It's not about wondering if Santa will make things right with the perfect gift, if I pray just right to Jesus. 

This little story on the jet from Chicago is making me think that, during Advent, we are waiting hopefully for those who around us, for those we touch and influence, and not for ourselves. It's making me reflect on a penitence of living better and not living for the fleeting moment, of loving better and not loving for the temporary smile. We light the candle of hope to bring justice and mercy to all, even if we don't know them personally. I didn't know this man, but I knew a lot about his life. I pray that my Christmas will be all the richer from what he taught me.

Post-Modern, Meet Post-Marriage

We're hip and post-modern. The LGBTQ are getting married on the country's perimeters and progressive Midwest.

But, the struggle for equality in our relationships, namely in the ability to marry the person we love, is not over. Yes, shockingly and in such a short time, we suddenly find that almost 40% of the country has marriage available in the LGBTQ community. That still means over 60% of our brothers and sisters cannot marry in their home states or churches. They could marry elsewhere and derive federal benefits, but most states will not respect such marriages.

We're talking about disrespecting people. It's just not a caring, Christian stance to me.

Beyond marriage, however, we certainly have more to do. A recent article "7 LGBT Issues That Matter More Than Marriage" points to some larger ideas that might be of interest to the community of faithful. Sadly, the issues identified aren't surprises.

1. Youth and Trans* Homelessness
40% of the young homeless are LGBTQ, a tremendously high proportion.

2. Violence
Over 2000 incidences of violence against LGBTQ in the USA have been recorded since 2012. NYC has saw 7 attacks in May alone.

3. Racial Justice
A distressing 73% of LGBTQ homicides were people of color.

4. Immigrant Justice
The hurdles and harassment facing immigrants are that much more difficult in the LGBTQ community.

5. Health
Marriage may allow more LGBTQ access to health care, but if you're LGBTQ, you're still 10-20% more likely to be uninsured.

6. Economic Justice
Forget the images of rich, gay celebrities: you and your family are twice as likely to be living below the poverty line if you identify as LGBTQ.

7. Trans* Justice
Extreme poverty and rampant suicidal tendencies are just the tip of this iceberg.

It's time we go beyond post-modern. I pray that as we work towards meeting the needs of the 60% stranded by the marriage equality policies of their states, we begin the process of addressing these other serious issues. May the words of the prophets guide us into action on building a better, safer, fairer world.

Beware of the Leopard

One of my favorite exchanges in "Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy" by Douglas Adams has to do with the planned destruction of the house Arthur Dent, the main character. He hadn't heard of the demolition details for the new highway bypass, and bulldozers were poised at his door, ready to plow his home down. The foreman claimed that everyone knew the plans, well, except Arthur, who was lying in the mud to block the destruction. 

" ...You hadn't exactly gone out of your way to call attention to them had you? I mean like actually telling anyone or anything." 

"But the plans were on display..." 

"On display?! I eventually had to go down to the cellar to find them." 

"That's the display department." 

"With a torch." 

"Ah, well the lights had probably gone." 

"So had the stairs." 

"But look you found the notice didn't you?" 

"Yes," said Arthur, "yes I did. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign on the door saying 'Beware of The Leopard'."

In many ways, that's how I'm feeling about the current discussion of social justice in the Vice Presidential debate. (Yes, I'm a geek). We're hearing lots of talk about how the Paul Ryan budget is aimed to improve the efficiency of the economy, improve our finances, and ensure that the business will thrive. But like planners who thought a highway bypass would be a great way to move forward, it completely ignores those whose lives are destroyed, whose homes will be lost, who will be cast under the tractor in the name of progress.

Both candidates are Roman Catholic. I was raised Roman Catholic, though now I'm a practicing Episcopalian. In either denomination, the concept of social justice is fairly deep. It's part of our religious culture, our DNA. We take care of those who need assistance. Look around the country, and a vast number of larger hospitals, hospices, shelters, and food banks are run or were started by churches with a social justice tradition. 

Social justice is not a political position. It's a moral obligation. It's part of our covenant with God: love each other as God loves us. It has nothing to do with communism, socialism, or other such "Beware of the Leopard" demagoguery.

Without the details of what an economic plan involves, I have to agree with Sister Simone and the Nuns on the Bus. The social safety net is most assuredly going to be hacksawed in order to accomplish all the things that have been promised. If there were other reasonable offsets and plans (reduction of military budgets, elimination of capital gains tax preferences, etc) that addressed the revenue-expenditure imbalance directly, I would believe that the budget could do this without sacrificing the needy on the cross of economic realities. But I don't see it. The Romney-Ryan budget plans don't add up. 

I don't understand why it's too difficult to share the details, explaining how the numbers will actually work. To insist on hiding details is to demonstrate arrogance, paternalism, and elitism. We can handle the truth, as it shall set us free.

So, like Arthur Dent, I feel like I need to lie in the mud in front of my house, hoping I can thwart the implementation of a plan I feel I know nothing about, a plan that cares not a whit about those who lie in its path. And as Arthur eventually puts a towel over his eyes so that he cannot see things that might cause panic, so too are we being asked to ignore the bulldozer at our door.

Our Vice Presidential candidates may talk about their Roman Catholic faith, but I can certainly sense when one hasn't really been listening in his pew. I pray that we hear the details soon so that we can in fact make progress, without sacrificing the needy.

Squirrel vs Dog - Unleashing our drug laws

The title of the article might have been about the so called  surprising results from Portugal's decriminalization of drugs. I can't say I'm very surprised at all. In fact, it's about time we address the astonishing cost, both financially and in human lives, of our war on drugs.

Our country's relentless frontal attack on the problem reminds me of animal behavior classes I took years ago. A dog on a leash, seeing a treat, will tug on its chain to try to reach its goal, even if the chain is snagged on a pole. It might try to dig, claw, bark, but it never looks back to see that the chain is caught and never addresses the root cause of its problem.

A squirrel on the other hand will, if chained, look around, move backwards, climb, scramble, go backwards even to find a way to get to its treat. It will usually figure a way to correct the chain's problem and get to its treat.

Portugal looked at the drug problem, stepped back and found a compassionate AND cost-effective way to  address the issue. It reduced the number of people shackled by drug issues, and showed that relentlessness does not have to be the same as a direct frontal assault. Our countries spends billions on attacking drugs with full force head-on, without the same thoughtful, comprehensive approach. It's the club rather than the protractor approach, and it's clear that it isn't working.

As in the movie "Up", it's time we yell a collective "POINT" and help this dog of a drug policy around its blinders, and instead lead it towards a more compassionate, comprehensive, successful strategy. We need a real solution that respects the value of all the people caught in the chains of drug addiction.

Something old, something new

This week's news was again about celebrating a wedding, about bringing something old and something new. I mean, very new. Yes, this morning, Slate published an article on the first gay wedding on a US military base.

Here, we have an old institution, a bedrock of American society, standing firm since the very beginning of this country. Yet, it didn't know who its people truly were, what they wanted deep inside, and what it took to keep them firm in their commitments, faithfulness, truthfulness, honor.

But it became apparent through the years, that many were not being truthful or living in honesty. An institution grows decrepit when populated by such folks, and people grow to distrust the institution. So, this mainstay of American wanted to confirm its relevance and authority, not by redefining itself but by affirming what it truly envisioned itself to be. And it wanted to a beacon of justice, when its past had too many examples of otherwise.

Yes, the article was about the US military. I, though, am talking about the Episcopal Church.
When we ask people to commit themselves 100% to their mission, their passion, their love, we cannot treat them like second class citizens. We cannot say that their baptism was a mistake, because God already made holy their incorporation into the body of the church. They are our kin, even if we're just not that into them.

It pains me when I see the way these soldiers were ostracized by their churches. Yet God's expansive love found a way to them, and they are together in the eyes of the army and in the eyes of God. Just as we are commanded to feed the hungry, so must we nourish the souls of those who seek out the divine.

If the US army -- conservative, assured, protective, firm -- can meet the needs of its people, other institutions that we trust should as well. My church has taken continued its many new steps in this direction, and for that I am humbled and grateful. I pray that we continue to recognize all who work towards justice and bring the God's kingdom to all who desire.

-- Mel

Repost from my Walking With Integrity Blog - "Let All Who Are Thirsty Come"

Reposted Article, originally published on Integrity USA's Walking With Integrity 

"Breathe" I told myself. It's the Episcopal Church's triennial General Convention, you'll be surrounded by other faithful people, and you've worked at high tech conferences and convention halls for 25 years. But this was different.

I was volunteering to be the social media dude at Integrity USA.

The first orientation gathering didn't calm me down. The eager staff and volunteers meeting was packed with clergy, seminarians and the discerning. Who was I to be the mouthpiece or at least the e-megaphone for this amazing group of God lovers?

But after a couple of days, we settled down. I sat in committees, tweeted, posted, blogged, facebooked, photographed, webbed, texted, videotaped, video-blogged, sang, and prayed. I broke bread not just with Integrity but with a caring, larger community from a world-wide church. I learned much about the church in continental Europe as well as in our own backyards. I befriended Bishops, cried with transgender clergy, sang with ordinary canons and canons of the ordinary, and was told to go fishing by +Gene. 

We all worked so hard, got tired, then worked harder. And we hunkered down, afraid of the 107F swamp air outside the convention center. I listened and sang to Taizé songs in my room, for I needed to center myself against the flurry, so as to better share Integrity's message with others.

And the message of God's inclusive love wasn't getting sent out there. It already WAS there. I can't express my surprise at the difference between GC 2009 in Anaheim versus Indianapolis. People WANTED to make all mean ALL. And with that, I was humbled by the Holy Spirit as she lifted us higher.

Even more so, I connected more strongly with social media in a way that I hadn't expected. I became a fan of twitter three years ago after the last General Convention. The fact that the General Convention was one of the TOP TRENDING search topics (#GC77) shortly after the passage of A049 on same gender blessings blew me away. We were acting because of God's prodding, and the world was watching, sharing, retweeting. It was humbling.

And on top of all that, I even got to enjoy a few minutes of Bonnie-Ball (tweet or facebook me if you haven't seen the final score).

At a local watering hole on my last night, a waiter expressed surprise that we were having cocktails AND we were at General Convention. Clearly, he didn't know  the Episcopal Church, on several levels. We shared our message with him, and he seemed impressed, pleased, and most curiously, curious. It's that curiosity that I found most powerful, because in the seeking lies the seeds of new awareness, new life, and new followers.

Thank you Integrity, #GC77, and all who build bridges for those who were lost or locked out. I pray that your work evangelizes and helps the discouraged and distraught find justice and equality. 

Let all who are thirsty come, and let all who wish receive the water of life freely. Amen.

by Melvin Soriano

Geeky Volunteer/Choir member/Vestryperson from All Saints Pasadena

twitter.com/melsoriano & facebook.com/melsoriano

Check out all that we did on:

twitter.com/integrityusa

facebook.com/integrityusa

walkingwithintegrity.blogspot.com

youtube.com/integriTV

Let All Who Are Thirsty Come

Big mistake.

I let my thoughts wander and I fell away from my blogging. I apologize. I hadn't walked away from the church, from Christ or from thinking (as though those were mutually exclusive), but I did walk away from creating a journal that recounts my experiences.

And that's a mistake. One can't tell they've made a journey, trekked through the swamps and mountains, unless they've logged where they've been. Worse, they might circle back to the same dead-ends and road blocks that impede any journey.

As such, I've renamed and repurposed the blog. I'm going to be more focused on who and what I experience. I may not pen something immediately (the pen, by the way, is a writing utensil that does not require electricity), but I intend to put it down eventually.



And I'll hold myself accountable by tweeting about these thoughts.

So, I apologize to myself and to those who may have ever been interested in my thoughts. Simply saying that God knows what I am thinking isn't enough. I must be clear enough to myself to make sure that I know what I'm thinking.

The new name is "Let All Who Are Thirsty Come". I realized that my inward thoughts weren't helping me focus unless I understood why I prayed. I want to encourage others to feel God's expansive and relentless love. If they thirst and hunger for it, it's there for their nourishment. We may not be able to stare at God directly, but God's light shines and illuminates all that we are and see.


For those of you who have influenced my return here, directly or indirectly, thank you. I am grateful for your role as guardian angels of my spiritual life.

Paz y fe,
Amen.

Grace in the Labyrinth at Grace

The inner Labyrinth was in use. Grace Cathedral was sharing the space with those who were meditating with Eastern music. As the somewhat yoga practice was right atop the Labyrinth, I instead went to the side chapel I use most, lit a candle, and said my evening prayers.

Instead of staying indoors, I did my walk on the Labyrinth outside of Grace Cathedral. It was a genuinely delightful time for me, as I moved along the exterior path at sunset. The slight chill breezed through my clothes, tingling, vibrating against my skin. But it felt right.

It's as though the Holy Spirit was moving me along that path. The noises of the city, the stresses of the day, they all ebbed and flowed into and out of my consciousness as I walked.

Veni Creator Spiritus

A great musical weekend... Did I Listen or Did I Hear?

Today, at All Saints Pasadena, we sung wonderful works by Bruckner and by Hovhaness. I'll discuss the wonderful sermon by Susan Russell in another post, but this posting is about the evening Jazz Vespers and its theme of listening.

Our composer in residence is Bill Cunliffe. He and his trio performed his medley on West Side Story, a work that this year won him a Grammy. It was joyful, full of love and hope. Jazz has an amazing way of focusing the mind and yet opening the heart. I simply amazes me that less than a century ago, many people found it antithetical to religion.

Christina Honchell's homily was on listening, which touched me deeply. Lent is about listening to God, to your heart, to your past, present and future. She talked about listening to music, specifically jazz, as a metaphor for listening to God and to each other. I found the sermon quite relevant to me this weekend, given all the music I enjoyed. Moreover, it finally is motivating me to put my more of my Lenten journey down in this journal.

I've been touched by stories of loss and suffering this year. Though my family has escaped direct loss so far, there have been a couple close calls and surgeries. Something is metaphorically whispering in my ear, but it's hard to hear and I'm unsure what the message is.

Then, in the space of a week, an employee and a dear college friend both lost close relatives. Again, this whispering, this buzzing, this calling for me to listen pestered me. I don't know what it's saying or what it means.

I do know that I'm grateful that it's Lent, and I'm paying attention. I'm listening.

Of course, listening is an active act. Merely hearing, on the other hand, is passive. We hear all the time, but I dare say we know what's going on. In fact, in our crazy world, we spend more time filtering out the cacophony, trying to find peace and quiet. We're trying to not hear all this fuss. Yes, we're actively trying to not listen.

So, Lent to me is that season where I try to do the opposite, to pay attention. And lo, what a great weekend of listening. By coincidence, it was a weekend of music.

Friday night, I joined friend Glenn at a Silverlake piano bar and delighted in local singers, sharing their joys and love. An amazing older woman brought me close to tears with her smoky rendition of Roberta Flack.

Last night, friend Ted performed with the Occidental-CalTech Symphony. We heard quite amusing and thoughtful compositions: "Caminos" by Silvestre Revueltas and "Variations on a Nursery Song, Op 25" by Erno von Dohnanyi. What a feast to hear mariachis-cum-Rites of Spring followed by a highly developed study of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!

One other thing that I listened to this weekend. The rain came in odd waves yesterday afternoon. Sometimes it tinkled with petite droplets, other times it pelted us with hail. The wind blew branches against my windows at some points, and other times the howling was roared into a whisper.

Then, this evening of jazz. To tie it all together, I'll share this evening's Vespers reading, a poem. I found it amazing and will be something I'll ponder this season.

It's by the now well-known Sufi poet and philosopher, Jalal al-Din Rumi (1207-1273). The following translation is from Coleman Barks' "The Glance: Songs of Soul-Meeting". I share it because it tied everything so well together tonight.

I share it with you in love. Shalom...



LISTENING

What is the deep listening? Sama is
a greeting from the secret ones inside

the heart, a letter. The branches of
your intelligence grow new leaves in

the wind of this listening. The body
reaches a peace. Rooster sound comes,

reminding you of your love for dawn.
The reed flute and the singer's lips:

the knack of how spirit breathes into
us becomes as simple and ordinary as

eating and drinking. The dead rise with
the pleasure of listening. If someone

can't hear a trumpet melody, sprinkle
dirt on his head and declare him dead.

Listen, and feel the beauty of your
separation, the unsayable absence.

There's a moon inside every human being.
Learn to be companions with it. Give

more of your life to this listening. As
brightness is to time, so you are to

the one who talks to the deep ear in
your chest. I should sell my tongue

and buy a thousand ears when that
one steps near and begins to speak.

Lenten Journal

It's Lent and I think I'll bring this blog back from the ashes.

Reading two books. Karen Armstrong's "The Case for God" and Marcus Borg's "The God We Never Knew". Both were on my Kindle, but I like many other books, were only part-read. At least I have good incentives to move forward now: All Saints Pasadena has these two books on the Lenten reading list.

Monday nights will be on Armstrong and Thursday on Borg. I'm looking forward to see where these discussions go.

Scientific Proof and God

Someone asked what proof I had of God's existence.

I answer the same way I usually do about this question.

Are you asking for the scientific method to be applied to test God's presence? If so, then I doubt I can give a satisfying answer because it's comparing apples to oranges. It's not a good technique in this situation. For example, the scientific method doesn't prove that a song is good, a landscape is serene, or a picture is lovely.

It's not a matter of faith in God's existence. Faith applied in the modern way seems so bizarre. It's as though I'm asked to believe something contrary to scientific evidence. I don't have faith this way. This is faith in antagonism with scientific methodology. My faith is irrespective and independent of scientific methodology because the aforementioned inappropriateness of the test.

Without any testing, however, I witness evidence of God every day.

• I hear a good song
  
• I walk a serene landscape
  
• I view a lovely picture
  

These tests work for me, they matter to me and they give me faith to know that there is something indefinable operating somewhere out there.

Health Care "Debate"

I don't understand the current tone of the health care debate. We seem to be debating about whether the government should not participate in the health care business. I thought the point was to discuss US health in general, which is unfortunately short of the mark compared to other advanced economies of the world.

Here are some thoughts that I just wanted to jot down.

• Many think: Things are fine as is
  
  I find this to be the sentiment of those with good health care. I accept that, but the selfishness astounds. For those without health care or with inadequate health care, it's a nightmare. They certainly don't seem happy with status quo. As a small business owner, I am also frustrated by the enormous cost of providing health care to myself and my employees. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just the cost that's so egregious. Moreover, it's disturbing whenever I hear (and I hear it a lot) that people use health care as a decision making factor when looking to change jobs or further their education - that's just downright economically inefficient for a capitalist market.
  
  
• Many think: Keep government out
  
  This is a legitimate concern. What the current legislation seems to be doing is offering an alternative to the open market in health care. Interestingly, the government does this in other economically vital areas: finance and higher education. Many people in America would not be able to afford homes or finance college without the option of government assistance. Bond markets would not function as effectively if we did not have Treasury bills as alternatives. These instruments are out there and they have not destroyed private lenders or the bond market.
  
  As such, why is a government option in health care going to kill private industry? It doesn't have to do so and it's wrong to assume that it will.
  
  
• Many think: It will cost too much
  
  Yes it will. Quite a bit. But currently, when you consider the number of people who are not receiving adequate health care, what is the true cost to the economy, much less our faithful hearts? The cost is currently quite high. Conservative estimates put the uninsured (not the under-insured) at 20% of the working population. If that 20% were healthier they would and could be more productive.
  
  Imagine a minuscule 2% improvement in productivity from these folks (one week more productivity in a year due to access to medical advice and medication). That means a 0.4% increase in GNP alone just in labor productivity. We're talking a $57 billion dollar improvement on a $14.3 trillion (2008) economy.
  
  I'm no economist and I simplify outrageously, but it seems like we can afford at least this amount as a reasonable investment.
  
  
• We aren't talking about alternatives any more
  
  If the status quo isn't sufficient, have we really exhausted alternatives? If the idea is to use the government to combine millions of the uninsured into a huge insurance pool, then why aren't there significant private offerings. Why can't the government subsidize or encourage that?
  
  
• People hate insurance companies
  
  Insurance companies have to keep the costs low and have to assume that people are cheating the system. Consequently, people hate the perceived run-around for payments to the health care system.
  
  The government isn't rushing out to hire doctors. They're out to offer an alternative to insurance companies. That does mean that they open themselves up to the ire and vitriol held for insurance companies. Why on earth would they want that ? Only those "on a mission" to do something would want that...
  
  
• Tax us equally
  
  I'm a small business owner. Big companies have great deductions but not me. Level the playing field. Either tax the big companies, tax the people receiving the benefits or give me an equal deduction or credit to offer these benefits.
  
  

That's all for now. I hope people believe that it's a moral responsibility to care for those who cannot do so. Given that basic moral stand, there are many ways of meeting this obligation, but we repeatedly fall short and have not yet succeeded. I pray that should people agree these two statements, we can further the debate in an atmosphere of constructive problem-solving rather than acrimony and finger-pointing.

General Convention 2009 - Things I Learned

It was my first General Convention, and the 2009 Anaheim Episcopalooza was something that brought many lessons home to me. Though I have a "normal" secular job in the IT world, with employees and customers across the nation that depend on our services and products, I am drawn to matters of faith, unity, and diversity of opinion. As such, though I only attended three days of the conference, I in spirit paid a great deal of attention to the tweets and press releases arising just a mere 30 miles away from my Pasadena offices.

Rather than bringing form to these many lessons, here are some highlights, memories, and opinions that I dare not forget.

1. Integrity Eucharist service - see other blog posting.

2. Bishop Barbara Harris - what a sermon! I've never fully experienced Father Ed Bacon's comments at my All Saints Pasadena parish until now: I indeed had a "Glory Attack" during her talk.

3. The faces of joy, wonder, and awe of the congregants at the service. People were visibly moved and filled with the Holy Spirit. I came in thinking that these church politicians would be somewhat distant and reserved but was surprised at their reaction to the rather evangelical fever of that night.

4. There are many more small progressive churches across this nation than I had imagined. I heard witness from rectors and priests describing their efforts for social justice, in places I would have considered inhospitable to such notions.

5. The exhibit hall carried gorgeous, marvelous, luxurious textiles. I only suspected this in the past, but I think I need to freely come out of the closet as an Altar Guild-oriented, gold-thread loving aurumvestiophile (priestly drag queen)... Those garments and altar coverings and wall hangings were so beautiful and inspiring. Art clearly has its place in the church, as it so quickly stimulates our attention to the movements of the Holy Spirit.

6. The House of Deputies was the upper house? It was so rowdy and loud and confusing. It's the clergy and laity, and they clearly want to be heard. The only problem is there are a lot of people that need to be heard.

7. The House of Bishops was the lower house? It was so subdued and clubby. During the debate over blessings, my mind fantasizing a scene that I have previously pondered: the Board of Directors at Augusta debating what would happen if an African-American golfer ever would win it all at the Masters.

8. Asian-Americans? There were Asian-Americans at the convention in the exhibit hall. Outside of the exhibit hall, well, they were at Eucharist. But I still definitely feel outnumbered at the convention. It's more of recognition on my part that the urban and coastal states have far more Asian-Americans than the rest of the country and that national organizations such as this church highlight that regionalism.

9. Wonderfully helpful clergy. Father Jim Newman of St Bede's (Los Angeles) practically dragged me to the House of Bishops debates and answered all my questions regarding the proceedings. He recognized my understanding and interest in the Parliamentary procedures and encouraged me to consider participation at the diocesan convention. More importantly, he introduced me to Bishop Barbara Harris (see #2).

10. Bishop Steven Charleston - Another amazing sermon, this time on the environment. I must agree that a tremendous amount of energy is spent fighting battles that distract us from real issues at hand.

11. Why aren't Episcopalians recognized for their sermons and marvelous theology in action? We need to convince our non-Episcopalian colleagues that old stereotypes just don't fit with much of our church today.

12. Twitter mania. Found so many interesting uses of twitter at this convention. Thanks to the oppressed opposition in Iran for showing us how Twitter can organize people in such an organic way. And thanks to: @integrityusa @johnclint @revsusanrussell @episcopalcafe @vagabondfaith @josephpmathews

13. Lunch-hour Eucharist had a funny moment for me on one day. I stretched out my palms during communion and was handed the Host from large loaf of bread. Not an unusual occurrence, expect this piece was about the size of 1/2 bagel. I clearly did not know how to handle such a large "wafer". I must have been staring at the bread as I walked to the chalice, because the chalice bearer sort of giggled at the look of fear in my eye. And let it be said, I've never looked at the communion bread with fear before or doubt I ever will again. "I could use some butter" passed through my head. After a few moments I eventually was able to take the wine. Note to self: Ask someone about proper protocol if someone chokes on the holy Host.

14. There were many interesting brochures from the various Episcopal seminaries. I continue to assess, ponder, and pray about my needs and calling. For yes, I am feeling called, and it frightens me.

Back to my comments about distraction from real issues at hand. I definitely think that discrimination hurts the church's missions. But I think this not because of issues regarding institutional preservation or institutional integrity. I think it hurts the evangelical nature of the church and those of us who want to make the church do something.

The young people of today care deeply about things that they consider secular. They are energetic, passionate, and well educated. They are also more liberal and frighteningly worldly (thanks to the Internet?). If we are to enlighten them of the saving power of Christ, if we are to maintain stewardship over our earth and help those in need, then we cannot afford to scare off the young and marginalize the outcasts. If all are welcome at this table, then all are needed to bring in the harvest.

All hands on deck people, we have some important work to do!

Integrity Eucharist 2009

As a church singer, I don't usually remember most of the events or services that I participate in. I get very into the music, as the Holy Spirit moves me, and I vaguely try to watch the service so that I don't get too lost. However, last Friday's service at the 2009 Episcopal church General Convention, a triennial event, struck me with particular joy and thankfulness for gifts granted to me.

It was a Eucharist service, with communion, brought to us at the Anaheim Hilton by Integrity. It was full of ubuntu incense, multiculturalism, love, and Christ. Episcopalians from across the country formed a standing room only congregation of perhaps 1600 people.

Bishop Gene Robinson celebrated the Eucharist. Integrity President Susan Russell and Integrity Founder Dr Louie Crew gave moving welcomes and invocations.

The sermon was outstanding, brought by the Episcopal Church's first female priest, retired-Bishop of Massachusetts Barbara Harris. This sermon was honestly poignant, assertive and frank. For the first time in my life, I had to restrain myself from standing and shouting "Allelujah", as I was sitting directly behind the Bishop during her sermon...

I found the music to be thoroughly uplifting. For those unfamiliar with All Saints Pasadena, our music program is exemplary and though we only practiced during the 45 minutes preceding the service, we were familiar with most of the program. I am blessed to sing with the All Saints's Coventry choir (and have previously been with the other adult choir, Canterbury). Members from choirs formed the Integrity choir this evening.

We sang
Wade in the Water - arranged by Carl Hayward
Wana Baraka, - traditional Kenyan folks song arranged by Shawn Kirchner
Sanctus - from Misa Bilingue, Kevin P Joyce
Savior of the world, save us - Community of Taize
Take, Oh Take me as I am - John L Bell
Sweet Hour of Prayer - words William W Walford, Music William Bradley, arranged by James Walker
Lead me, guide me - Dois Akers, arranged by Richard Smallwood
Nada te turbe - Community of Taize
Breathe on me, Breath of God - Nova Vita, Lister R Peace
Siyahamba - South African folk song

We also sang an unfamiliar processional song, along with a Cantor: Amen, we praise your name, O God, by Gobingca George Mxadana. Check out a supershort clip.

The words were:

Amen sia-kudu-misa! Amen sia-kudu-misa!
Amen, ba-wo. Amen, ba-wo. Amen, sia-kudo-misa!

The procession included drums and worked itself throughout the entire crowded ballroom.

Here's another short musical clips I found.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvZSiGQY0J0

---

My Full Blog

Just do it

Michael's dead. We won't see his moonwalk this summer. Nor shall we see any innovation that may have been in store.

But without much elaboration, must we really see the world media (and I ask this while sitting in a bar in Paris) profit so thoroughly from his death?

I'm disgusted... I have to think about it some, but everyone from CNN's King to Sharpton all seem to be exploiting Michael Jackson's death. It's wrong.

Protecting the Sanctity of Marriage

Some thoughts went through my head as I surveyed the pummeling that the institution of marriage took this week.

* Today, the rather fiscal though not very religious conservative Republican South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford admitted that his week-long disappearance can be attributed to an affair with a woman down in Argentina. His leadership of the Republican governors club as well as his presidential aspirations are history.

* Last week, the rather religious though not very fiscal conservative Republican Senator John Ensign admitted to an affair with the wife of an employee. Though he tried to force another Senator to resign for sexual impropriety (Larry Craig), he himself did not resign, though his presidential aspirations and his chairmanship of a powerful committee are history.

* Yesterday, a highly public reality tv couple "Jon and Kate Plus 8" announced their impending though not surprising divorce. The fate of the many children remains unknown. Adultery is highly suspected.

A lot of noise indeed.

So what did I notice?

* Those who were born gay had nothing to do with these marital problems.

* Adultery seems to be a common issue in these marital problems.

* People who live in the public eye are held to a higher standard of morality than we care to admit.

* Heterosexual divorce rates are astonishingly high. Though the exact numbers vary depending on the study, the scale seems consistently saddening:
The divorce rate in America for first marriage is 41%
The divorce rate in America for second marriage is 60%
The divorce rate in America for third marriage is 73%

* Gays cannot marry in most of the United States. Their divorce rates are therefore unsurprisingly low against the overall gay population. What are the divorce rates are for those who are legally permitted to marry? Not enough information is available yet.

* Should Americans criminalize or penalize adulterers? Adulterers clearly create havoc. Should divorce again become a stigma?

* Should Americans make divorce more difficult once more?

* Why are irresponsible heterosexuals allowed to enter a sanctified state of marriage whilst thoroughly committed and loving gay couples, many of whom would be married in their churches if the government allowed, barred from such a commitment?

* Why are heterosexuals continually allowed to diminish the sanctity of marriage? The reality tv shows, the Vegas supermarket weddings, the shotgun weddings - - it's disgusting and blasphemous.

Nuf said for today

Where is the Kingdom of God and when do I get to see it?

So I was posed this question on a Facebook message...

Here's a question I'd like to bounce off you. In the AM I've been reading through Mark. This morning I was reading Mark 14:25 in The Message and the NIV. In this passage, Jesus seems to imply that he is not yet in the Kingdom of God.

However, for the past year or so I've been thinking that the "Kingdom of Heaven" doesn't necessarily refer to a place in the afterlife and that we can be in the Kingdom of Heaven now if we understand Christ and live by Christ. All other references in Mark (up to 14:25, so far) fit with this (4:11, 4:26, 4:30, 9:1, 10:14-15, 10:23, 10:27, 12:34).

Your thoughts? Is the Kingdom of Heaven an afterlife-only thing? If not, how does 14:25 get reconciled?

For a common discussion, I have Mark 14:24-25 in the NIV :

"This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many," he said to them. "I tell you the truth, I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it anew in the kingdom of God."

Matthew's reference to that fateful Passover dinner was similar at 26:29. It was stated during the Passover dinner.

Seems like my friend's basic question was : When was the Kingdom of Heaven supposed to occur?

First, I just want to make sure I understand the phrase Kingdom of Heaven. I have to assume that it's in reference to the Kingdom of God. Mark and Luke prefer using the phrase Kingdom of God and it's Matthew that uses the phrases Kingdom of Heaven.

As such, it depends on your translation and reading of that phrase. I concur with many scholars who believe that the Greek words translate better as "Reign of God" or "Dominion of God" rather than an actual nation with a monarchal God in a Palace. It's a phrase that's pretty much New Testament jargon, since there are hardly any references to a coming kingdom in the Old Testament.

Second, where is this domain or reign? To some it's in Heaven, and to others it's on Earth. It's a tormenting question that I think affects many folks and is one of the basic ones used by people to figure out which church they find comfort and compatibility.

To me, Heaven is Earth fully realized. Just as Man redeemed is Man fully realized as he was originally made by God, so is the Earth. I tend to environmentalism because I see much of the New Testament asking us to be shepherds to the world and the needy and that the original covenants demanded we take care of and sanctify the earth.

When Jesus said he wouldn't drink wine, it's even more relevant when compared to John 9:1-5 (where he says he's the vine, God's the gardener and we are the fruit or wine). John's verses make Mark sound like we the fruit are not to be united with Christ the vine until He is in the Kingdom of God.

But that's where the aftermath of Mark 14 matters to me. Christ died. The Pentacost drop shipped the Holy Spirit into our lives. A new promise was established during Mark 14 at the Last Supper. The Crucifixion sealed the deal and Pentacost brought God, Christ and Man together.

So Christ did enter the domain of God. And he walked on it among his disciples here.

This, to me, means that Jesus did usher in a new era, a new reign. The point of Mark 14:25 was that Jesus would not touch the fruit until He saw the Kingdom. It wasn't about us seeing the Kingdom. And since He did, He the vine can touch us the fruit once more.

I believe we are supposed to be realizing the promise of this era but we are not. I think we're called out to love another and the world, all as Jesus outlined, to do our part of the promise.

Our failure to do so keeps us of realizing Heaven here on earth.

So is it an afterlife only thing, as asked? To me, unfortunately, yes, but only for now. I think it's an afterlife only thing because we continue to not fulfill the two commandments that Jesus identified (Love God, Love one another). I think Jesus brought the dominion here to Man on Earth because of His death and Pentacost (He did reach the kingdom). But we don't benefit from it because we haven't shown ourselves to be proper stewards of this kingdom.

Our Kingdom can be here, but we must first prove ourselves to be model citizens.

And

Matthew 23:23
Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cummin, and have neglected the weightier provisions of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness; but these are the things you should have done without neglecting the others.


Jeremiah 22:3
Thus says the LORD, "Do justice and righteousness, and deliver the one who has been robbed from the power of his oppressor. Also do not mistreat or do violence to the stranger, the orphan, or the widow; and do not shed innocent blood in this place.

Jeremiah 22:17
But your eyes and your heart are intent only upon your own dishonest gain, and on shedding innocent blood and on practicing oppression and extortion

Exodus 22:21
You shall not wrong a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt

Amos 5:24
But let justice roll down like waters And righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

God does not dial 1-866-IDOLS

An interesting comment appeared on an article regarding the American Idol tv show. I was just checking to see if what the press was saying about last night's contest, where three contestants competed for two spots on next week's final contest. Yes, I enjoy the show very much, as apparently tens of millions of Americans also do.

I read this one article and was intrigued by the first reader comment.

I have been a follower of Danny Gokey since the tryouts! He is so very humble & I think he is so much better because of it. Granted, Adam is an excellent showman (showdog) but that's just what he is.............a SHOWDOG! He is arrogant, he is overbearing, and he don't know which he wants to be. Now, you figure out that.....because I can't! And ...yes,I know exactly what I just said. I love Danny Gokey! Danny is favored by God & God's children. It just happens that way.He is a child of God & is blessed by God. We will all be praying for Danny Gokey. It's not about people feeling sorry for Danny that will win it, it's about voting for Danny because he is so humble & stands for God. We should all take the stand for God & vote.....DANNY Gokey!

Now, as you may know from my blog, I'm a Christian and have strong opinions about our world and our Creator. I'm pretty certain that I've had my share of flinches whenever a boxer, singer or football player thanks God for their ability to win a contest. It just doesn't jive with my theology.

But this person made the effort to assert that a contestant will win because they are favored by God. I find this odd. Does that mean God favored Hindus when he chose Slumdog Millionaire and Ghandi as Best Movies in the Academy Awards? Is a person favored by God not susceptible to excessive pride? Isn't a reality contest that encourages citizen voting going to favor the showman or "showdog"?

I'm one of God's children and say so every day. I am not praying for Danny Gokey because I have more important people and situations to pray for. I am not taking a stand for or against God by selecting the winner of a singing contest one way or another.

This is ridiculous really. When there are people starving on the streets and worrying about their jobs, we're asked to pray for a singer to win, even though he's already favored by God. It's almost blasphemous to me to think that people think of God so lightly and so frivolously.

Last I heard, Kris Allen was a leader at his Christian church, too. Is he less favored?

Adam Lambert grew up in San Diego, a conservative bastion in California that funds alot of religious issues across America. Are the people of San Diego less favored?

I'm tired of seeing God minimized and trivialized. It's no wonder so many children stray from Christianity, when they hear God's power discussed so lamentably. I mean, really, the show is called "American Idol", which is not exactly consistent with one of the Ten Commandments and its prohibition against false idols.

I write this blog entry because I for one WILL take a stand for God. I do not want His name to be used in vain. I do not think God dials 1-866-IDOLS...

Shaken, and Stirred - Christianity and Torture

I'm finally able to put down some words regarding the release of The Religious Dimensions of the Torture Debate by the Pew Forum. It's a study with a somewhat small sample of under 800 people that seems to indicate that a large majority of evangelical Christians strongly agree with the belief that torture can usually or sometimes be defended. Mainline Christians form only a slight majority, but a majority nonetheless. Secular folks form a large majority -- against torture. Moreover, the study seems to show that the more often you attend weekly Christian church services, the more likely you will defend torture.

I simply don't understand how Christian beliefs can defend torture. After all, we're not talking about realpolitik policies, about secular governments, about the presumed guilt of those being tortured. We aren't discussing the efficacy of torture or the differences in political parties. The study supposedly showed a simple correlation between Christian identity and support for the use of torture.

The press releases from Pew started coming out last year. I guess they really wanted to make a splash with their findings, so they waited for a nice slow news week to really knock it out of the park. The results certainly caught everyone's attention. It's all over the blogs. And this weekend, Rector Ed Bacon at my church in Pasadena (All Saints Episcopal Church) chose to bring it up in his sermon. And now, even I am moved to write about it.

Since everyone from the Huffington Post and Fox News has an opinion, I figure I'm not alone.

But my thoughts were slow in finding form and substance. It wasn't until I saw Hugo Schwyzer's post that I was able to put my thoughts down. In an outraged, passionate way, he described what he saw as irreconcilable differences between Christianity as he practices it and the "enhanced interrogation techniques" as the US practiced it.

Both Father Ed and Hugo were ashamed and scandalized by the findings. I'm not so much ashamed as baffled and enormously saddened.

But, as I've reviewed the blogs and literature in the past week since hearing about the Pew study, contradictions seem to abound. I usually understand the consequentialist argument to be mostly inconsistent with most Christian doctrine. Whether it's from my Roman Catholic upbringing or my fascination with fundamentalism in high school or my collegiate libertianism, I've understood typical Christianity to disavow calculated ends-justify-the-means utilitarianism.

I recall a Pat Robertson sermon where he debunked Marxist thinking because of such amoral philosophy. I use amoral as he would have, but consequentialism does anticipate a greater good as a consequence of the possibly immoral behavior that caused it, so there is to me a real and definite moral structure there. After all, isn't Christ's death the ultimate "ends justify the means" sort of thinking that would please a John Stuart Mills?

But most of torture's Christian apologists don't talk from a right is right and wrong is wrong perspective. Rather than the expected deontological assertions, I was surprised that most seem to bring up political, non-Christian utilitarian arguments. Saving lives matters more than the torture of a single person, whether that person has guilt, guilt by association, presumed guilt, or innocence. This moral weighting of good and bad actions seems more consistent with the secular world than the Christianity world.

These arguments even come from folks who also argue that abortion under all circumstances is immoral. I'm terribly confused by this. This is a reversal of typical positions, to me, and it confounds me.

To be blunt, if one can save the life of one person by torturing another, then it seems easier to justify that the life of a mother can be saved by killing a fetus (killing at best, torturing and killing at worst).

Maybe I'm missing the point. Is it because the typical torture victim is a non-US citizen? If so, then I'm more worried if racism or xenophobia plays a part. Are we saying it's ok to torture people if they're not Americans? Not Christians?

Again with the comparison to abortion, what if the mother of the fetus were a non-US citizen and non-Christian, and the about-to-be-an-American fetus (with its mother) were currently in America? And why or how could Christian behavior be based on one's legal nationality anyway? Are the souls that our missionaries seek to save of a second class nature in God's realm? All this seems even more odd when Paul was so adamant that Gentiles and Jews are both saved by Christ.

So if abortion can or cannot be discussed in absolute terms, why or why not torture? The "under certain circumstances" phrase used in the torture justifications has typically been seen as one given by so-called wet liberal Christianity and secularism. (I've understood Liberal Christians as being folks like Episcopalians, Lutherans and Methodists. Oh wait, George W Bush and Dick Cheney were both Methodists. Interesting.) But in this topic, the phrase is found all over the blogs that defend torture, on ethical grounds or not.

What of the presumed innocence of the tortured person? The discussion on this aspect seems to treat is as an under-whelming inconvenience. It seems far easier for defenders of torture to assume that the person being tortured is somehow deserving of this treatment because they have already been found guilty of withholding information. Moreover, since "time is of the essence" arguments are put forth, innocence is largely irrelevant anyway.

Would any of these arguments been used by the British during the American revolution? Perhaps. We were fighting in a largely guerrilla fashion after all. Had the term existed then, I'm sure some of the British would have called us terrorists.

Would we apply this thinking to American citizens today? If a US citizen could stop a criminal act by divulging information, wouldn't waterboarding be justifiable? Would 183 acts of waterboarding be justifiable (the number is supposedly how often one person was waterboarded during the preceding federal administration)?

Is the number of torturous acts permissible directly related to the number of lives in question? Can you torture one person to save one person? If the number of lives threatened aren't known, is that unknown number to be treated as millions of people. Do we torture a person if we think Hiroshima and Nagasaki will land on our shores?

Hiroshima and Nagasaki of course are the ultimate in irony in the torture debate. Imagine the background story: Millions of innocent, unsuspecting lives are at stake. Every soldier you come across may have information on how this dastardly deed will be performed and where and when. Clearly, following the teological arguments most Christians seem endorse, it's justifiable and right to torture every one of those soldiers to prevent the nightmare that happened.

Since those soldiers were not tortured, two cities got nuked. Those who did not die immediately suffered miserably for the next two decades as radiation poisoning punished them for being in the wrong place. Casualties of war is one thing, but these innocent civilians, children and adults, bore the burden of cancer and other maladies for years after. All of this could have been avoided through torture.

If I am to read this correctly, 1940s Japan had every right to torture every American, Filipino and Australian soldier within any notable distance from its shores. WWII Japan had a moral entitlement and duty to torture scientists who could somehow prevent the situation.

Moving away from history, since utilitarian positions are acceptable when it comes to torture, do they apply to children? I recall many a times when a team of kids would encourage a slower, less skilled child on. That's nice. That helps everyone. And then they go too far. They do it in anger and fear. They bully the child to do better. They yell, punch, taunt, push. They want the team to win, and this one child's not going to keep them from winning. The greater good is that the team wins, isn't it?

And, if a child knows who will be causing a terrorist act (as many children in other parts of the world are in fact deployed as mules and messengers in war), is it acceptable to torture a child? Why the adult and not the child? Both might carry the same amount of useful information. There is an equal amount of benefit. The person to be tortured is just far smaller and far younger.

I think my final confusions over the study swirl around the responses of the non-Christian respondents. The folks who attended church least frequently or who were self-identifying as non-Christian were the least likely to endorse torture.

Are their positions as such because they are totally manipulated by the liberal media? If so, then are the Christian respondents just as manipulated by Fox News?

Are secular folks generally pacifist? That could explain their aversion to torture, as it would be consistent with their moral structures. But it certainly seems a gross oversimplification. Besides, the horrific genocides of the past century were done by secularists whose ends justified the means.

Irrespective of how the less- and non-Christian world finds torture unjustifiable, I'm shaken that self-identifying Christians sound less like my beloved Matthew 22:36-40 than the secular folks. And what exactly then do Matthew 7:12 (Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets), Luke 6:31 (And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise), and Luke 10:25-28 mean to Christians? Even a non-literalist like myself has to ask "Don't these verses mean anything any more?"

No, I cannot condone the torture of an individual, guilty or innocent, for the presumed greater benefit. In my love of Christ, I cannot imagine how the Lord would ever say that it's plumb ok to waterboard. I do not want to be the Roman crucifier. I do not want someone to do it in my name. I will not be the first to throw a stone.

And, to simplify, torture does not pass the simplest and oldests tests in morality.

Torture doesn't pass the standard set by Confucious: Do not impose on others what you do not wish for yourself
Torture doesn't pass you out of this Karmic cycle of rebirth
Torture doesn't pass the test of the Golden Rule
Torture doesn't pass the test: What would Jesus do?

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Reading list for Lent

Not exactly standard fare to be sure...

Khalil Gibran - The Prophet
John Shelby Spong - Jesus for the Non-Religious

I've finished the Gibran and am in the midst of the Spong. Quite a contrast so far and quite fun to compare my emotional reactions to both.

Stay tuned. I'll update you on my thoughts I hope by Easter!