Why Tebow Is Bad for Christianity

Tim Tebow is probably the most famous current half-rate quarterback in the NFL.  He's not famous for his prowess on the field.  He ended the season with a 46.5% completion for 1,719 passing yards, and 12 touchdowns in 14 games.  Denver finished with an 8-8 record.  Compare that to another 8-8 record quarterback with a 78.2% completion for 3,474 passing yards, and 26 TD's.  Mike Sanchez and the Jets didn't make the playoffs.

What's Tebow famous for?  His religion and his devotion to passive proselytizing with his John 3:16 strips under his eyes and his prayerful kneeling after impressive plays.  So why is he so bad for Christianity, as the title of this blog claims?

As Carter Turner, a religious studies professor, points out in a recent article, his actions are bringing the very nature of God into question.  Tebow prays to God for a first-down, or a touchdown, or a victory.  God rewards Tebow's devotion by granting his prayer.  God intervenes in the lives of the devout and prayerful and worthy.  But what happened against the Patriots?  Did God decide that Tebow hadn't genuflected enough?  Did God decide that Tom Brady, with his illegitimate son and his almost-illegitimate second son, was more worthy of the victory?

And what of people who pray ceaselessly every day that their child or parent or husband with cancer be healed?  What of the farmers in Texas who prayed for rain last summer?  Did God ignore their prayers because they weren't devout enough?  Which is why Tebow is bad for Christianity.

For people observing this, it calls upon the nature of God.  Some people will say that God had other plans and not to question the working of God.  Then why pray?  If God has plans that we are not privy to, that sounds a lot like predestination.  God has preordained that something will happen so it does.  Like Tebow's connection for a touchdown.  Or the Holocaust.  Or 9-11.  See where this leads.  Just what has God preordained?  But if God answers prayer requests for touchdowns and football victories, why didn't God answer the prayers of the students at Virginia Tech praying for their lives?

In the very public nature of Tebow's religiosity, he leads people not to finding salvation through Christ but to questioning the existence and nature of God.  Is God the Great Clockmaker of the Deists?  Or is God the Intervener of the Evangelicals?  Does God answer prayers?  How does God decide whose prayers to answer?

And whose God answers prayers?  The God of Tebow who lets two of his teams lose championship games?  What about the God, Allah, of Muhammad Ali who allowed only five losses in his career?

People are wondering whether God is helping Tebow.  They want to know for certain whether God answers prayers and intervenes in our daily lives.  Because in today's world of economic recession, climate extremes, and the general limits and frailties of human existence, there ain't a whole lot certainty.

[The opinions expressed in this article are the sole views of the author and do not necessarily express the views of the blog audience. Should anyone feel moved to leave a comment, please keep your comments on topic and do not attack the author.  And before leaving any comment, read about No True Scotsman before posting.]

Thanks Be to God!

There was no lunch.  No food.  Only a cup of coffee.  All because of wanting some kind of religious grounding and centering in my workaday life. 

There is a group near my office that has a short chapel service every Wednesday.  The group is part of one of the mainline Protestant denominations.  In their office building is a small chapel complete with Bibles and hymnals.  Why did it take me this long to find such a respite?

After the 30 minute service, one of the staff members whom I had exchanged emails with about the service took me on a tour of the office building, introduced me to other staffers, got me a cup of coffee in their break room, and talked with me for over an hour in their library.  He is an ordained minister with an extremely similar upbringing as mine.  I could have talked to him all afternoon had it not been for the daily fires that I deal with in my office.

Just walking into the chapel and sitting in the stillness and quiet was enough to wash away any burden from my shoulders.  The words of the prayers were reminiscent enough of my Episcopal parish to soothe my soul.  The only dissonance was a hymn that I know by heart but the music was completely foreign.  Oh well, I can deal with that.

Skipping food for lunch instead to be nourished and nurtured was well worth it.  My body my not be able to live by coffee alone; but my soul can flourish with bread and wine.  Go in peace to love and serve the lord.  [Title and last sentence explained here.]

A Church, A Courtroom and Then Hypocracy

I need to fill you in on the EMT's pink shirts.  It turns out that, yes, they are supporting breast cancer.  They're not quite as brave as Marshall Moneymaker.  But they're showing their support.

And in other news... I'm on a pet peeve tear.  Consistency!  Why aren't people consistent?  Being inconsistent can come across as hypocritical in some cases.

An acquaintance of mine is very gung-ho in wanting everyone to follow what the Bible says.  She wants to make sure that gays and lesbians are never allowed to form civil unions.  Because "the Bible doesn't approve of gays and lesbians."  Now, this is the same person who divorced her husband under a no-fault divorce law. 

Growing up in a very conservative Southern Baptist household, we weren't supposed to dance, play cards, or drink.  My divorced grandfather lived with us because he already had a wife, according to his Biblical interpretations.  He never remarried and I never met my biological grandmother until after my grandfather died.  Because she had remarried and was considered an adulteress.

This is the same community that my acquaintance grew up in.  She was schooled in this same Biblical tradition.  Yet she doesn't see that in her own life she doesn't practice what she preaches. 

When are people going to be consistent?  If you're pro-life, then be pro-life until death.  No assisted suicide even for someone with an excruciatingly painful terminal disease and no death penalty.  If you're pro-choice, then let people decide whether they want to end their lives with the help of a family member, friend or doctor and realize that the state can end a life as well.

If you're going to quote the Bible about other people's marital statuses, then let your marital status be a shining example.  Something about "let he among you without sin be the first to condemn" keeps running through my mind.  Now where did that come from?

[Title taken from this.]

Separated at Birth

Has anyone else noticed this?

And what does it say about our values?
[Title taken from this.]

Welcome to My Mooring

My 30 Day Non-Facebook Prose-Instead-of-Pictures Challenge has taken much more than 30 days.  The problem is that today's challenge threw me for a loop.  Day 19's challenge is:

19.A picture and a letter

A letter?  As in a letter of the alphabet?  Or a letter to someone?  Let's go for the latter.  But...  Whom to write, that is the question.  Whom I wanted to write isn't the problem.  It's what to say and how to say it to that person.  All because I wanted a free lunch a few weeks ago at work.
 
A non-denominational Christian group held a meeting and gave a box lunch to attendees.  While waiting for the keynote speaker, the group's organizer passed the time by asking the audience two questions:
 
1. If you were to die tonight, do you know whether you would go to Heaven?
2. Why?
 
He then proceeded to tell us that only those people who accept Christ as their personal savior would go to Heaven.  And that it all depended on your belief in Christ, not in your actions.
 
The very first thought in my mind was, "Really?  So Gandhi is in Hell but there was a chance that Hitler could be in Heaven?"  My spiritual beliefs were so shaken, rather than reaffirmed as the organizer had intended for his audience, that upon returning to my office I immediately emailed my priest.  He emailed back, offered to come to my office later that week, and have lunch with me to talk.  During our lunch conversation, he recommended three books.
 
Now, halfway through my summer religious reading list, I am ready to write my letter. 
 
***
 
"Are you there, God?  It's me, Gaelic. 
 
"I'm home again.  I truly believe that You use the land of my ancestors to call me home.  Whether it's all the way back to my Scottish roots, or just my recent ancestors in the Appalachian Mountains.  It's like I'm the hillbilly Scarlett O'Hara.  'Katie Scarlett O'Gaelic, you get your strength from the green mountains of Caledonia.'
 
"And when I return to those mountains, I find You waiting for me.  'Welcome home,' You say with the towering peaks and winding streams.  I find You in a friend's warm embrace in North Carolina.  I hear Your comfort in snippets of songs that float on the warm air.  '...and if our backs should ever be against the wall, We'll be together...'
 
"Or the cool air of a summer day, feeling so alive.  And again with the music.  'I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky' or 'Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose'.  You are all around.  In everything.  The sound of songs and mountains streams, the feel of the night closing around me, the taste of fresh-caught trout or newly-made candy, the smell of hickory fires on August nights, the sight of the low-lying clouds as if the mountains exhaled their warm breath onto the cool morning air.
 
"Even though You are with me wherever I go, I never feel more alive, more at peace, more joyful than when I return to the mountains that You made my home.  Call me home.  Then send me forth.  I am refreshed."
 
***
 
And if you believe that Gandhi is in Hell because he died a Hindu, the three books on my summer religious reading list are:
 
The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis
Love Wins, by Rob Bell
The Politics of Jesus, by Obery M. Hendricks Jr.
 
[Title taken from this.]

A Song For Every Season

Lucky number thirteen.  Today's challenge is:

13.A picture of your favorite band or artist

Band?  Artist?  Jeez, make it difficult!  Which do you want?  How about both?

Band?  Can that be just a singer?  If so, hands down, it's Johnny Cash.  But then there's also Hank Williams III or Ralph Stanley and His Clinch Mountain Boys.  So Ralph and the Boys is more of a band.  If it's a group you're looking for, it would have to be U2, The Who, or Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.

Artist could be any number of things.  But my thoughts on this are keeping it limited to paintings.  In that case, there are three that require an extended viewing.  John Singer Sargent, Frederick Leighton, and Gustav Klimt.  My three favorites by each are here, here, and here.

There's no way to narrow it down any more.  My tastes change with my moods.  There's a song for every season.

Disney's Gonna Get Religion*

WARNING!!!  SPOILER ALERT!!!  If you don't want to know too much about "Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides", then leave now.  Here's the door.

The entire Gaelic clan went to a matinee this weekend for a 3-D IMAX viewing of the movie.  Based on trailers and reviews, we knew there would be mermaids, zombies, and a search for the Fountain of Youth.  But the movie got some points wrong.

First off, anyone who knows anything about the Fountain of Youth knows that it's in St. Augustine, Florida.  It probably hasn't changed much since the last time I visited back in the mid-'70s.  Would you believe me if I said the 1870s?  Which reminds me that the Brooklyn Bridge is for sale.

Getting back to the movie, it appears that everyone in the story is in search of the Fountain of Youth.  The king of Spain, the king of England, Jack Sparrow (shouldn't there be a Captain in there somewhere), Blackbeard, Blackbeard's daughter.  A race to the famed waters.  So where does the religion part come in, as referenced in the title of this post?

Onboard Blackbeard's ship is a missionary who carries his Bible with him at all times.  This missionary plays a larger part in the story but then Disney does him the injustice of not tying up his storyline.  That's my gripe since his was one of the better plot developments until they pulled the rug out from under his story leaving his ending high and dry.

But the religion part doesn't stop with the missionary.  The Spaniards' arrival at the Fountain proves that only one water can give everlasting life.  The Spaniards are the only ones who know, or at least believe, that the water of eternal life comes not from a mythological fountain.  When discussing the movie afterwards, it became evident that many people missed that reference, focusing more on the Spaniards just not wanting anyone else to have access to the Fountain of Youth.

The point the Spaniards were making was that we shouldn't seek the Fountain of Youth but the Water of Eternal Life.  And anyone who knows anything about the Water of Eternal Life knows that it comes not from a fountain in Florida but from a font in a church anywhere in the world.

*Title taken from this.

What Does It Say About Me?

If you're new to The Writer's Kaffeeklatsch, about three months ago my left ring finger was shattered in a fall on icy steps.  The ER cut off my wedding rings.  A few days later the doctor operated and inserted five pins into one little tiny bone.  Two months of physical therapy have led to increased mobility.  Yet my finger still isn't straight and won't bend to touch the palm of my hand without help.

My wedding rings were cut into halves -- the engagement ring is in two pieces and the wedding band is in two pieces.  The tragedy isn't my still-swollen finger; it's the loss of my grandmother's wedding band.

Even when my finger has been wrapped in the baby Ace bandage, the knuckle is very swollen.  The physical therapist measured it last week.  My finger was originally a size 6.  Now it's a 9 1/2.  My heart sank when she told me that.

Yet I still have my mother's wedding rings.  We have the same size fingers.  Or at least we did until this. 

One of my friends wear his wedding ring on his right hand because his wife is European and that's the custom where she's from.  There's an idea!  My mother's rings went over my right ring knuckle with a little effort.  But not so much that it was painful.  And there they'll stay until my left ring finger is back to some semblance of normalcy.

A quick search online for a photo of right-hand wedding rings happened upon the "meanings" of wearing the rings on the right hand.  Some possibilities are:

• Widowhood
• Left-handedness
• Sentimentality for family heirlooms
• Infidelity
• Gays or lesbians
• Cultural, specifically Polish, Colombian, Greek, Indian, or Eastern Orthodox

Well, well, well.  Are those all the possibilities?  That's all my search turned up.  Maybe I'll start a new trend.  Who says your wedding rings have to be on your left hand anyway?

Easy Like (Palm) Sunday Mornin'?

The subtitle of today's blog could be "Hey, Mom! There's goop on my forehead!"

Remember your history?  Remember how the Puritans in Massachusetts forbade the celebration of Christmas?  Growing up as a Southern Baptist in the South, the church didn't celebrate Christmas with a church service unless December 25th happened to fall on a Sunday.  We also didn't celebrate Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, or Good Friday.  They were considered too "Catholic".  Never mind that as a current Episcopalian, the church celebrates those holy days but without the authority of the Bishop of Rome, or the Pope, depending on which side of the Reformation you sit.

Today, in case you missed it, is Palm Sunday.  It's the day that the Church remembers Jesus' triumphant procession into Jerusalem.  We carry palm fronds and crosses woven from palm leaves as a reminder that the people laid palm branches and cloaks on the road as Jesus rode into Jerusalem.  It's very celebratory.

But then something gets in the way.  You see, Palm Sunday is the beginning of Holy Week which culminates in seven days on Easter.  In between, Jesus will celebrate Passover with his disciples (Maundy Thursday), be arrested, tried, and executed (Good Friday).  Finally to rise again in the promised Resurrection (Easter).

That's not what gets in the way, however.  What gets in the way is that people don't or won't attend church this week on Thursday and Friday.  In order to have the Easter story on Easter Sunday, somehow we have to get Jesus from the triumph of Palm Sunday to the trials of Good Friday.  So the Palm Sunday service becomes dysfunctional in attempting to celebrate Jesus, institute the rite of communion, and crucify him all in one fell swoop of a service.

It wasn't until I was sitting in the 5:00 p.m. service this afternoon that I realized I really don't like the Palm Sunday liturgy.  Especially since I plan to attend church on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.  And this year at our parish, there's even a Holy Saturday service for the "forgotten" day of Easter.

A couple of things made up for the week's worth of liturgy packed into one service.  The 5:00 p.m. service is much higher church than the other services at our parish.  Incense carries our prayers heaven-ward while a sung liturgy hearkens back to the early Church.  After communion, parishioners are invited into the side chapel for a laying on of hands for healing. 

The 5:00 service was my first choice following the shattering of my finger back in January.  Having a priest lay hands on my head and pray for healing and health brings me comfort and peace.  Yet today, the priest did something that I don't remember from other healing services.  He rubbed his thumb in the chrism and made the sign of the cross on my forehead before laying his hands on my head and praying for my continued healing.

Five weeks ago there were ashes in the exact same place and design reminding me that I am but dust and to dust I will return.  Now the olive-and-balsam oil is anointing me with healing strength.  The same questions from Ash Wednesday creep into my thoughts. 

Do I wash it off or let it wear away on its own?  It's an outward sign of an inward contemplation, although nowhere nearly as obvious as a big black smudge.  I can see the shiny cross on my forehead in the mirror because I know what I'm looking for.  Like the Turkish rug merchant showing a buyer the slightest imperfection, it's my disclaimer before God that I need His healing grace.

Woe Me of Low Moral Standards

Us versus them.  Regardless of what the issue is.  We'll take a side because being undecided is anathema to most people.  Or so I have come to believe.

The office staff assistant attended the cross-state rival of my university.  He always rags me for my choice of colleges.  Last week I told him of a couple we know who are in a mixed marriage.  She went to the cross-state rival; he attended the neighboring state school, still in the same football-great conference.

"Not only that, they're also a mixed marriage because he's a Democrat and she's a Republican."

"I could never date a Democrat."

"Look at Mary Matalin and James Carville."

"But how could anyone date a Democrat?  Their moral standards are appalling.  They have no moral standards at all."

I thought to myself: 'Really?  Are you serious?  I call myself a moderate Democrat.  I've been married to one man, and only one, for 20 years.  I have three daughters.  We are all very active in our church, Girl Scouts, and the neighborhood.  I'm active in the Junior League, the Daughters of the American Revolution, and my sorority alumnae chapter.  Mr. Gaelic and I both served on the vestry at our church; I taught Sunday School; organized the teenage-equivalent of Vacation Bible School; Mr. G organized an overflow winter shelter for the homeless.  Oh, and I stayed home to raise my children rather than abdicate the role of mother to a childcare provider or the nearest relative.'

At this point in the conversation my tongue was bleeding, which it had to if I want to keep my job. 

I must be the most naive person on the face of the earth.  Or else I'm that rarest of all creatures, one that has rarely been spotted in the last twenty years, leading many people to assume our extinction.  I'm a person who will associate with both Jew and Gentile, Democrat and Republican, state college and cross-state college.  I'm a person who asks campaign workers on election day to convince me why I should vote for their candidate (only done when I can find representatives of all candidates in one place and has driven all over town to find them).  I'm a person who visited a mosque because I wanted to see firsthand what their worship is like.  I'm a person who rooted for the... oh, nevermind... I never rooted for the cross-state rival.  I'm not as independent as I thought I was.

It used to be that the word liberal meant open-minded.  Now it's a pejorative for anyone too far to the left.  Yet I know just as many left-of-center folks who are as stubbornly set in their ways as an equal number of right-of-center folks.  That, to me, is not being open-minded.  It's as closed-minded as the left considers the right.

So what are we rarest-of-the-rare independent creatures to do?  Those of us who consider the whole of the situation without letting our prejudices weigh us down.

Hello???  Is there anybody out there?  Is there anyone home?

Five of Thirteen

I'm Number 50!  I'm Number 50!  I'm Number 50!  And I'm proud of it!

Fifty out of 100.  As in, I'm average.  Or so I think I am.

I dislike extremes of just about everything -- from temperatures, to politics, to clothing, to religious beliefs.  In terms of religion, I'm about as middle-of-the-road as they come.  Part of a mainline Protestant denomination.  The mainline Protestant denominations are: Anglican (Episcopalian), American Baptist, Congregational (United Church of Christ), Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, United Methodist, and Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).

Recently, a Christianity Today journalist surveyed all the editions of the mainline Protestant hymnals and compiled a list of thirteen hymns that appear in all 28 hymnals.  The 13 most popular Protestant hymns (since they appear in all 28 hymnals, they're the most popular, right?) are:

1. Abide with Me: Fast Falls the Eventide
2. All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name
3. Come, Ye Thankful People, Come
4. Crown Him with Many Crowns
5. Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken
6. Guide Me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah
7. Holy, Holy, Holy! Lord God Almighty
8. How Firm a Foundation, Ye Saints
9. In the Cross of Christ I Glory
10. Jesus Shall Reign Wher'er the Sun
11. Love Divine, All Loves Excelling
12. O Sacred Head, Now Wounded
13. When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

Now, your turn.  What are your Top Five mainline Protestant Hymns of this list of thirteen?

Menu Plan: January 3 - January 9

Now that my dirty little secret isn't so secret anymore, perhaps the menu plans will include lunch.  My dirty little secret?  Fast-food drive-thru for lunch.  As a full-time mother for the last 15 years, I fell into the habit of eating fast food while out running errands.  Eating in the car between stops meant more efficiency.  But at the expense of my waistline, and maybe my health.

Starting an office job tomorrow means either taking my lunch or eating in the cafeteria.  At least for the first week.  Mr. Gaelic suggested getting away from the office for lunch.  It's good to have a change of scenery. 

So, for Laoch and Gail, here is an attempt at eating a clean lunch. 

• Monday
• Breakfast: cream of wheat
• Lunch:  ham and Swiss on sourdough, chips, apple, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: chef's surprise (Finola is still home from college and will cook)
• Tuesday
• Breakfast: cereal
• Lunch:  turkey and provolone on spelt, chips, clementine, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: beef Stroganov (Deirdre's specialty since she will cook)
• Wednesday
• Breakfast: soft boiled eggs, toast
• Lunch:  office reception (it's Swearing-In day for the 112th Congress)
• Supper: kidney beans, fried okra, kale
• Thursday
• Breakfast: oatmeal
• Lunch:  ham and Swiss on spelt, chips, banana, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: vegetable soup, homemade bread (probably overly ambitious but we'll see)
• Friday
• Breakfast: cinnamon toast
• Lunch:  turkey and provolone on sourdough, chips, apple, 2 chocolate pieces
• Supper: dinner out to celebrate the first week on the job
• Saturday
• Breakfast: sausage, eggs, grits, toast
• Lunch:  leftover soup
• Supper: steak, baked potato
• Sunday
• Breakfast: waffles, sausage
• Dinner: chicken 'n' dumplin's, broccoli, carrots
• Supper:  PB&J sandwiches, chips

I need to work on a side for my lunches.  Easing back into making lunches means only thinking about the mains for now, which are still sandwiches at this uncreative point.  The two chocolate pieces?  Mr. Gaelic gave me two boxes of Godiva chocolates for Christmas.  The boxes are still unopened.  They will be my dessert in my sack lunch.

Truth be told, I have mixed emotions about my new job.  I'm excited to be back in the political world of Capitol Hill.  At the same time, I'm anxious about the logistics of latch-key kids, wholesome suppers, and running errands.  Heaven help me.

Almighty God, whose Son Jesus Christ in his earthly life
shared our toil and hallowed our labor: Be present with
thy people where they work; make those who carry on
the industries and commerce of this land responsive to thy
will; and give to us all a pride in what we do, and a just
return for our labor; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who
liveth and reigneth with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.  (BCP, p. 208)

Seven Deadly Virtues

There are seven of them each, seven virtues, seven vices.  In case anyone needs a reminder, they are Chastity, Temperance, Charity, Diligence, Patience, Kindness, and Humility.  And Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride.  I know which ones I deal with on a weekly basis -- Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Envy, and Pride.  Wrath I'm not bothered by, unless someone lays a hurtful finger on one of my children.  Then that person will have to deal with the Wrath of Gaelic.  Other than that, it's just the other six I'm guilty of.

I have no virtues.  Only vices.  All seven of the virtues are quite arduous for me.  I should be more diligent about them.  But then I wouldn't be able to boast of having absolutely no virtues at all.  See, pride is my biggest vice!

A man after my own heart, or finger, has come to my rescue.  He knows that all women need to be reminded of their worst vices.  And in a way that is right in front of women all the time.  As rings on our fingers.  The problem is the way he depicts Pride.  Not my favorite vice anymore.  Looking at Stephen Webster's renditions of the Seven Deadly Vices, I think my new worst vice is Envy.  No, make that Wrath.  No, make it Lust.  Oh, hell, I'll take all Seven of the Deadly Virtues, I mean Vices.

Of This I Am Certain

ATTENTION:  IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18, CLICK HERE.



Now that we've got the kids out of the way, let's talk about Santa Claus.

Do you remember when you were a child at Christmas?  You couldn't wait for Christmas.  Do you remember staying up to see Santa but always falling asleep?  He never came when you were awake.  Even when you weren't sure whether Santa was real or not, you still made a list for him.

During yesterday's sermon, the priest made a comment that I had never heard before.  "The opposite of faith isn't doubt; it's certainty."

He wasn't talking about Santa Claus, of course.

256 Shades of Me

Contradictions in my life are a norm.  Usually because society today tends to only see things in black and white, although there are many shades of grey.  Take, for example, some of my liberal opinions.

1. I believe there should be no Ten Commandments on courthouse squares or behind judges' benches and there should be no Bible to swear on before a jury.
2. The Church should not be authorized by the State to perform legally binding marriage rites.
3. Stores should not decorate for Christmas.

I'm a radical, aren't I?

But once people learn my conservative beliefs behind my leftist opinions, they get a clearer picture.

1. I am a Christian.  At some point there may be a Hindu or Muslim or Wiccan judge who wants to post some of their religious writings behind the bench.  I don't want to see that in a courtroom or on the courthouse square.  I don't want to have to swear on some Wiccan book before a jury.  To prevent that from happening, no one should be allowed to have anything.
2. Too many churches are already performing same-sex ceremonies.  In wanting to welcome all of God's children, these churches are ignoring the Biblical purpose of marriage.  There should be two marriage ceremonies, the legal one performed by the State and the religious one performed by the Church.  Those who want only the legally binding contract of a marriage certificate would see a probate judge or his representative.  Those who want to live in the Biblically-sanctioned institution of marriage would also have a marriage rite in the Church.
3. Christmas is religious holy day, not a time to make money for stores.  As a Christian, I don't celebrate Hanukkah or Passover (although I have been invited to Seders and Shabbat dinners).  Seeing non-Christians, or worse former Christians who now claim to be atheists, decorating a tree and going carolling doesn't celebrate Jesus's birth.  Why not only sell Christmas trees at churches on Sundays (or Saturday evenings if there's a service then) to parishioners?  You want to celebrate Christmas?  Go to church!

Do I still sound like a leftist? 

I don't believe we can legislate or force our religious views and morality onto others.  We tried that once.  It didn't work.  (See the 18th and 21st Amendments to the Constitution.)  As much as we may dislike being a melting pot of religions and races and beliefs, having a majority Christian population (for now) should not give us license to inflict our beliefs on minority populations (who might become majority populations in the future and want to inflict their beliefs on us).

According to a paraphrase of Winston Churchill, I am Russia.  I am a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.  However, with that quote, now everyone will be seeing red and calling me a Pinko Socialist Commie rather than seeing all of my shades of grey.

Where Does the Time Go?

So it's a proven fact.  As we age, time actually speeds up.  Well, maybe it's not proven nor fact but it sure feels that way.  When we were kids, it took FOR-EVER for Christmas to get here.  Now we barely get the lights off the house and, voila, it's time to start planning your Thanksgiving feast.

Okay.  I can deal with that.  Life is whizzing by me way too fast.  But now?

Now it's the days, not just the years, that are breaking the speed limit.

When I signed up for the e-mail daily meditations from the Episcopal Cafe, I thought there would be one in the morning, sort of a paperless Forward Day by Day.  It's the environmentally conscious thing to do.  And I forget to pick one up at the back of the nave until halfway through the current quarterly publication.

But nooooooo!!!!!!

Not only do they send me the e-mail daily devotion, but they send me other devotions throughout the day.  Morning Prayer arrives in my inbox around 8:00 a.m.  The Noonday Office arrives around noon.  The Evening Prayer at 4:00 p.m.  And Compline around 8:00 p.m.

For any non-Episcopalians out there, Morning Prayer, Noonday, Evening Prayer, and Compline make up the Daily Office.  These are services for individuals throughout the day when we should offer prayers.  Episcopalians just don't use an adhan to remind us to pray.  Although some of us (me) need the electronic reminder to slow down during my busy day.

But those electronic reminders don't feel like my day is slowing down.  On the contrary, whenever errands have kept me busy for long stretches of time and I check my inbox to see if there are any urgent or funny e-mails, the Daily Office e-mails remind me that "It's already time for Evening Prayer?!?  Where has the day gone?"

Breathe.  Relax.  Just move everything that didn't get done today to tomorrow's to-do list.  And remember to slow down.

The Bait and Switch

Yesterday's blog was a Movie Quote Quiz.  And I promised you the answers in today's blog.  Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, I stumbled upon an article in The Telegraph.  The Telegraph, for those of you don't know, is a newspaper from London, England.  Notice that this news hasn't hit any of the major American media outlets.  Yet.

The significance of this, and the reason why today's blog won't include the answers (check back tomorrow for the quiz answers), is that the Telegraph is reporting on something that I blogged about last week, the upcoming vote in southern Sudan.  As some commenters pointed out on my earlier blog, Sudan isn't as rich in natural resources as Iraq or Kuwait.  The article says that southern Sudan actually produces 480,000 barrels of oil a day.  A day!

That could be its saving grace.  Either because of the oil in southern Sudan or because the United States wants to avoid another Rwanda (I'm betting on the former), the State Department formed the U.S. Civilian Response Corps, which is currently building a large presence in southern Sudan.  They are there to "observe, report and monitor".

As I mentioned in my earlier blog about southern Sudan, the Anglican Bishop of Sudan spent time at our parish when he was just a priest from the Diocese of Renk in southern Sudan, before he became the Bishop of Renk and then the Bishop of Sudan.  Now the Archbishop of Canterbury warns that the world risks "sleepwalking" into another disaster like Rwanda. 

It's amazing to me, and a very sad indictment of the world, that it could be southern Sudan's oil reserves that save its people, rather than humanitarian concerns of saving lives just to save lives.

Vote for Freedom, Vote for Democracy

Very rarely do I venture into the realm of politics on my blog.  Mama always told me there are some things you don't discuss in polite society.  These are politics, religion, and sex.  Seeing as how I've violated her proscription on religion and sex on these very pages, let's go for a troika and blast the politics taboo as well.

Here's the background.  Several years ago, a young priest from the diocese of Renk came to our parish as a home-away-from-home parish while he was studying at seminary.  Renk is in Southern Sudan.  He brought with him stories of genocide, Arabic north against the native African south (mostly indigenous Dinka), Islamic north against the traditionally Christian south.  This was before Darfur.  This was before George Clooney and the world wanted to help.

Our parish partnered with the diocese of Renk to build schools, buy a seed drive, establish a health clinic.  Our parish became a refuge for the Lost Boys and Sudanese families driven from their homeland by rape, murder, slavery, hunger, and war.

In the almost 60 years of Sudanese independence, almost 40 of those years have been engulfed by Civil War.  There is a current peace agreement between the north and the south.  On the 9th of January 2011, the southern Sudanese will vote on whether to remain part of Sudan or become an independent country.

No, we can't vote on that referendum.  What we can do is urge our Senators and Congressmen to support southern Sudan's efforts to create a new nation.  The Sudan Peace and Stability Act of 2010 offers American help to achieve the goals of the peace agreement while holding southern Sudan accountable. 

There is a real chance for peace.  At the same time there is a real threat that Sudan could erupt into violence along the lines of Rwanda.  Will we stand by and let another Rwanda happen? 

Regardless of whether you, like I, consider the southern Sudanese brothers and sisters in Christ, I would hope that we all agree that killing another human being for the simple reason that he or she is of a different tribe or ethnic group is wrong.

That's why you're getting a twofer blog today.  That's why I'm urging you to stand for peace, freedom, and democracy in a part of the world that has been suffering for so long.  That's why I'm asking you to ask your Representatives to support the Sudan Peace and Stability Act of 2010.

Peace be with you.

Makes No Mistakes

At age 26, one of my best friends was diagnosed with breast cancer. At age 35, the first of my high school graduating class died of breast cancer. At age whatever-we-are-now, there are three others fighting the disease.

Used to be that the C-word was whispered in polite conversation. My mama always lowered her voice when speaking of cancer, mental illness, or divorce. At least she acknowledged them. The things that were never spoken of were politics, religion, and sex. And money, who had it and how much of it they had.

I see postings on my high school friends’ Facebook pages offering prayers for their health in dealing with cancer. Or financial trouble. Or relationship trouble. And yet I’m puzzled.

These are the same people whose Biblical-inerrancy, ham-fisted, God-is-always-right theology drove me away from my fundamentalist evangelical upbringing.

Really? God makes no mistakes?

So, all these loving, caring women were destined to suffer agonizing treatments and, for some, death? If God is really the omniscient puppet master of the universe who makes no mistakes, then why do we walk 30 miles every year or don pink shirts to race for a cure? If it was meant to happen, shouldn’t we stand back and let God’s will be done?

Or is God the Great Watchmaker of the universe? I’ve been reading too much Kierkegaard. Which reminds me . . . [Finola, if you’re reading this, which ancient or medieval philosopher are you studying currently?]

Is all life really suffering? Wait, I’m getting my religions mixed up.

This is one of those great conundrums that remains with me as I continue on my pilgrimage to a better relationship with God.

Where do you fall in the great debate? Did God create the heavens and the earth and step back to see what would happen? Or does God orchestrate every action from who gets a cancer diagnosis to who gets shoved into a gas chamber? Or is it something in between? And if it’s something in between, how and why does God make His choices? Is that what 1 Corinthians 13:12 was alluding to?

Remembering the Sabbath

Isn't Sunday supposed to be the Christian Sabbath? Whatever happened to those Blue Laws? In my hometown around the time of Reagan's first election, the First Baptist Church led an opposition to repealing the Blue Laws. Who would dare work on a Sunday? Only heathens.

These days most Blue Laws have gone the way of the dodo. Kids today don't know what a dodo is much less what Blue Laws were. Are we any better for it?

In my younger days, to say that someone couldn't go to the grocery store on a Sunday was ludicrous in my mind. No one should be punished by God's Laws if that person didn't even believe in God in the first place, much less those of us who believe in God but still need a quart of milk. After all, a quart is too much to borrow from a neighbor. There are limitations on the amounts of groceries one can borrow from a neighbor before one should just hightail it to the store.

Those olden days are much missed. Things were slower; or so they seemed. People used to actually talk to each other; rather than communicate online to someone sitting in the next room. Meals took longer to prepare than it takes a car to drive from Window #1 to Window #2.

In today's fast-paced world, remembering the Sabbath and keeping it holy can be a challenge. (Whether the Sabbath is Saturday or Sunday is fodder for another blog entirely.) We Americans seem at best conflicted and at worst ignorant when we extol the virtues of a Yankee work ethic but forget that the Puritans insisted that all work cease on the Sabbath because a good Sabbath made a good Christian.

 

Of course it was easier to keep the Sabbath in Puritan days when the church was the law of the land. In today's America, whose church would be the law of the land? My cousins' fundamentalist church that doesn't allow women to wear jewelry, makeup, or pants?

 

Just as a person's relationship with God is a personal one, keeping the Sabbath should be personal as well. Let the heathen shopkeepers open their stores but let the observant Christian decide whether to patronize a store on the Sabbath. Let the sports fields be filled with youngsters and their balls, and bats, and sticks, and nets, but let the observant Christian decide whether their offspring will join a team with games on the Sabbath.

 

With all of the Biblical instructions for the Sabbath, both New and Old Testament, keeping the Sabbath can actually be interpreted in myriad ways. One of those ways, even with the blessing of a priest, could be forgoing a church service in place of a drive in the country with one's spouse.

 

In the fast-paced world of modern-day America, setting a day aside that is different from the others can mean spending a precious few hours alone with a husband or wife who puts in ungodly hours trying to keep up with that Yankee work ethic. Maybe the Gaelic family is the modern-day equivalent of our Puritan ancestors.