Okay, I actually don't have right wing homophobic friends. Acquaintances, yes--I work in the church, after all. But the people I call my friends don't actively campaign against my right to marry. I try to be a forgiving friend, but I do have certain standards. I don't hang out with people who can't get past outdated and untrue stereotypes about what it is to be gay or lesbian.
Rick Warren, in his interview with Ann Curry, starts a sentence "My gay friends tell me..."
Really? You have gay friends? Really? Do they know that you believe them to be promiscuous and unworthy of marriage?
Or is "my gay friends" just another little rhetorical flourish, like "Joe the Plumber" (whose name isn't really Joe, and who isn't really a plumber) and "compassionate conservative" (which is, at least, the latter)?
Monday, December 22, 2008
Why We're Upset
From the very first--roundly untrue--line of this interview, Pastor Warren is arrogant and dismissive. The choice of him to give the invocation at Obama's ordination is a real blow.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
So It Happened...
...that I actually agreed with Jonah Goldberg.
This doesn't happen very often. Our paper, The Kansas City Star, carries Jonah Goldberg once a week, on the right-hand side of the opinion page. Yup, they're still putting the liberals on the left, and the conservatives on the right.
If they were creating a perfect representation of the political spectrum, though, Jonah would disappear, as he is too far right to appear in juxtaposition to whichever liberal columnist we're running that day. He'd have to be off the page, over next to your cereal bowl.
I digress. Jonah Goldberg is a big time conservative; that's all you need to know. He is Editor at Large of National Review online. We never agree on anything, though I don't know everything he thinks--he may well love chocolate covered toffees, and so do I.
In his column this week, Jonah Goldberg took on "gay-rights groups." He seems to believe that they are aligned on gay marriage and other issues. Apparently he doesn't know much about these groups...just a little swipe at my people, don't get upset.
Anyway, while I didn't much care for Mr. Goldberg's thesis, that the "gay-rights groups" are "aggressors in the culture war" (seriously--what does any of that mean?), I had to admit that he was right in calling out some of the tactics of the "No on Proposition 8" forces.
Specifically, he was perturbed by a television ad in which two Mormon missionaries knock on the door of a lesbian couple, announce that they are there to "take away [their] rights" and yank off their wedding rings. As they leave, one says, "That was too easy." The other responds, "Yeah, what should we ban next?"
I don't know which of the many, many diverse gay rights groups was responsible for this ad, but I hope they're not too proud of it. It suffers from the sort of stereotyping and hyperbole which have dragged down our political discourse for, well, always. The sort we should be leaving behind, not dragging into a legitimate fight for equality and respect. You don't get respect by acting like an eighth grade schoolyard bully.
So when Jonah Goldberg says that this ad is shameful, I agree with him. When he says that it shows "gay-rights groups" as a vicious monolith, we part company.
It's still okay to ask why the Mormon church, with its own checkered past regarding observance of national marriage law, feels so strongly that gay marriage is a threat to heterosexual relationships and families. It's okay to question the tactics of the "Yes on 8" folks, who suggested that little kids were going to be indoctrinated into The Gay Lifestyle, if Prop 8 didn't pass.
But must we play in the mud in order to make our own case? Justice is justice. It will be great when all of our gay rights groups learn that it speaks for itself.
This doesn't happen very often. Our paper, The Kansas City Star, carries Jonah Goldberg once a week, on the right-hand side of the opinion page. Yup, they're still putting the liberals on the left, and the conservatives on the right.
If they were creating a perfect representation of the political spectrum, though, Jonah would disappear, as he is too far right to appear in juxtaposition to whichever liberal columnist we're running that day. He'd have to be off the page, over next to your cereal bowl.
I digress. Jonah Goldberg is a big time conservative; that's all you need to know. He is Editor at Large of National Review online. We never agree on anything, though I don't know everything he thinks--he may well love chocolate covered toffees, and so do I.
In his column this week, Jonah Goldberg took on "gay-rights groups." He seems to believe that they are aligned on gay marriage and other issues. Apparently he doesn't know much about these groups...just a little swipe at my people, don't get upset.
Anyway, while I didn't much care for Mr. Goldberg's thesis, that the "gay-rights groups" are "aggressors in the culture war" (seriously--what does any of that mean?), I had to admit that he was right in calling out some of the tactics of the "No on Proposition 8" forces.
Specifically, he was perturbed by a television ad in which two Mormon missionaries knock on the door of a lesbian couple, announce that they are there to "take away [their] rights" and yank off their wedding rings. As they leave, one says, "That was too easy." The other responds, "Yeah, what should we ban next?"
I don't know which of the many, many diverse gay rights groups was responsible for this ad, but I hope they're not too proud of it. It suffers from the sort of stereotyping and hyperbole which have dragged down our political discourse for, well, always. The sort we should be leaving behind, not dragging into a legitimate fight for equality and respect. You don't get respect by acting like an eighth grade schoolyard bully.
So when Jonah Goldberg says that this ad is shameful, I agree with him. When he says that it shows "gay-rights groups" as a vicious monolith, we part company.
It's still okay to ask why the Mormon church, with its own checkered past regarding observance of national marriage law, feels so strongly that gay marriage is a threat to heterosexual relationships and families. It's okay to question the tactics of the "Yes on 8" folks, who suggested that little kids were going to be indoctrinated into The Gay Lifestyle, if Prop 8 didn't pass.
But must we play in the mud in order to make our own case? Justice is justice. It will be great when all of our gay rights groups learn that it speaks for itself.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Proposition 8, The Musical
You'll want to watch this more than once, because it's that good, and if you're like me, you'll notice a new star on each viewing.
Prop 8, The Musical
Prop 8, The Musical
McCain
That's how Missouri went. Adios "Bellwether State." Hola "Northern Annex of Dixie."
Seriously, we elected a white Democratic governor by a wide margin (60-40). And then a bunch of the people who blackened in Jay Nixon turned around and blackened in John McCain. Not sure what to make of that, except that we've still got some demons to exorcise down here in the Show Me State.
'Nuff said.
Seriously, we elected a white Democratic governor by a wide margin (60-40). And then a bunch of the people who blackened in Jay Nixon turned around and blackened in John McCain. Not sure what to make of that, except that we've still got some demons to exorcise down here in the Show Me State.
'Nuff said.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
The One Who Is Not For You...
It's taken a while to wrap my mind around this election. On Tuesday night, I shared champagne with several of my favorite people, toasting the wisdom of a people who chose an articulate, intelligent, compassionate man to be their president. We understood the weight of this moment in history, and there were wet shirt collars all around. We shed tears of joy, delighted that a man so worthy, and his beautiful family, will soon occupy the white house. I think we also shed tears for the pain this country has endured, steeped in its own racism, for so long. I hope we have turned a corner. The election is a great symbol, but I'm not sure that we can declare victory in the cause of civil rights for African Americans. Too many barriers remain--visible and invisible.
The struggle for civil rights is a long one--a frustrating back-and-forth dance, dependent upon the fickle hearts of the American public.
Speaking of civil rights...as much as Tuesday night rocked, Wednesday morning sucked. There's probably more eloquent language, but "sucked" is the right word.
I wasn't expecting much out of Florida, or Arizona. I wasn't holding my breath on Arkansas, either. And all of them threw their electoral weight behind that made up political trope: "traditional marriage." Not too surprising, and not desperately disappointing. It's safe to say that the LGBT community isn't hanging its hopes on Florida, Arizona and Arkansas...
But woe to you, California, my erstwhile home. Proposition 8 was a beacon of hope to those of us living in the hinterlands. (Object to the word "hinterlands?" Let me tell you how Missouri voted. See next posting.)
Yes, Prop 8--which reverses California's ruling allowing same sex marriage--lost by a much smaller margin than the last No Gay Marriage proposition. It picked up 8 points. And the groups vying to get it passed--the Mormon Church, the Knights of Columbus and other relics of a bygone era--had to spend $32 million to achieve their evil purposes.
Still, it sucked. One civil rights movement made strides last week, and another took it in the gut. Sadly, the stories overlap. African Americans in California voted 69% for Proposition 8. The fact that African Americans came out in unprecedented numbers to support Barack Obama may have tipped the scales. Ouch.
Even worse, once again The Church was out in front opposing the rights of lesbian and gay couples. There were some victories. The bishop of the Sierra-Pacific Synod (basically the northern halves of California and Nevada) made a public statement opposing Prop 8. At a rally in San Francisco, no less, which will require him to take meetings now with churches in Lodi and Stockton. Kudos to you, Mark Holmerud!
I'd like to think that progressive people know that some churches worked to defeat Proposition 8. Some of them do. I'm inclined to think, though, that most of them, especially those who are queer, just looked at the campaign for Proposition 8 as another black ball in the box against The Church.
Those of us trying to speak a word of hope to the LGBT community from mainline church pulpits already feel like Sisyphus a lot of the time. Proposition 8 just made our rock bigger.
So I guess we go back to the gym and get ready to roll that rock back up that hill one more time.
The struggle for civil rights is a long one--a frustrating back-and-forth dance, dependent upon the fickle hearts of the American public.
Speaking of civil rights...as much as Tuesday night rocked, Wednesday morning sucked. There's probably more eloquent language, but "sucked" is the right word.
I wasn't expecting much out of Florida, or Arizona. I wasn't holding my breath on Arkansas, either. And all of them threw their electoral weight behind that made up political trope: "traditional marriage." Not too surprising, and not desperately disappointing. It's safe to say that the LGBT community isn't hanging its hopes on Florida, Arizona and Arkansas...
But woe to you, California, my erstwhile home. Proposition 8 was a beacon of hope to those of us living in the hinterlands. (Object to the word "hinterlands?" Let me tell you how Missouri voted. See next posting.)
Yes, Prop 8--which reverses California's ruling allowing same sex marriage--lost by a much smaller margin than the last No Gay Marriage proposition. It picked up 8 points. And the groups vying to get it passed--the Mormon Church, the Knights of Columbus and other relics of a bygone era--had to spend $32 million to achieve their evil purposes.
Still, it sucked. One civil rights movement made strides last week, and another took it in the gut. Sadly, the stories overlap. African Americans in California voted 69% for Proposition 8. The fact that African Americans came out in unprecedented numbers to support Barack Obama may have tipped the scales. Ouch.
Even worse, once again The Church was out in front opposing the rights of lesbian and gay couples. There were some victories. The bishop of the Sierra-Pacific Synod (basically the northern halves of California and Nevada) made a public statement opposing Prop 8. At a rally in San Francisco, no less, which will require him to take meetings now with churches in Lodi and Stockton. Kudos to you, Mark Holmerud!
I'd like to think that progressive people know that some churches worked to defeat Proposition 8. Some of them do. I'm inclined to think, though, that most of them, especially those who are queer, just looked at the campaign for Proposition 8 as another black ball in the box against The Church.
Those of us trying to speak a word of hope to the LGBT community from mainline church pulpits already feel like Sisyphus a lot of the time. Proposition 8 just made our rock bigger.
So I guess we go back to the gym and get ready to roll that rock back up that hill one more time.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Woe to you, hypocrites!
This cover article in Gospel Today magazine provoked a strong reaction in the Southern Baptist Convention. Lifeway Stores, a Christian bookstore owned by the SBC, pulled the magazine from the shelves of one hundred of its stores, because it considered the article on women leading fundamentalist churches to be too incendiary.The Southern Baptist Convention, as you probably know, has long barred women from the pastorate, reitterating their position in 1998 when they revised their "Baptist Faith and Message" statement. The message puts it clearly:
"While Scripture teaches that a woman's role is not identical to that of men in every respect, and that pastoral leadership is assigned to men, it also teaches that women are equal in value to men."
The updated statement clarifies a woman's "equal value" thusly:
"A wife is to submit herself graciously to the servant leadership of her husband even as the church willingly submits to the headship of Christ."
To support these positions, the SBC refers to several passages in scripture (nearly all--I know it's shocking--in the Pauline epistles). The one most frequently cited is 1 Timothy 2:12, which attributes the following to the Apostle: "I permit no woman to teach or have authority over a man."
In a related story, prominent officials within the Southern Baptist Convention have lauded the candidacy of John McCain's running mate, Sarah Palin. SBC Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission president Richard Land thinks it is peachy to have the governor of Alaska--wife and mother of five--assume the role of vice president. He has no problem with her becoming president, should that be necessary. Land sees no conflict between stated SBC positions on the place of women in public and private life and its support of Palin. "There's no disconnect or inconsistency whatsoever," he recently told The Washington Post. "We don't go beyond where the New Testament goes. Public office is neither a church nor a marriage."
So apparently the authority that the president would have over men (say, um, the entire armed forces--or at least the male majority within them) isn't a problem.
The Post article offers this helpful clarification: "Land said the Southern Baptists' position allows for a wife to work outside the home, so long as her husband agrees -- and Todd Palin has long backed his wife's career in public service."
So here's a question: What if Todd Palin tells his wife it is okay for her to be a pastor?
Monday, October 06, 2008
Job Posting
Wanted: Chief Executive for Wealthiest Nation in the World
Educational Qualifications: A College Degree of Some Sort. Grades not important.
Experience preferred, but will train qualified applicant. Current training team willing to remain in shadows if allowed.
Other Qualifications:
1. Applicant should be person with whom others would be pleased to share a libation.
2. Applicant should be familiar with and able to utilize colloquial speech.
3. Applicant must have at least one referential word or phrase which he or she can demonstrate initiative in utilizing. Examples: "Decider" "Maverick"
4. Applicant must not be able to pronounce "nuclear."
5. Offspring active in local athletics is a plus. Uncontrollable daughters are a definite plus.
Educational Qualifications: A College Degree of Some Sort. Grades not important.
Experience preferred, but will train qualified applicant. Current training team willing to remain in shadows if allowed.
Other Qualifications:
1. Applicant should be person with whom others would be pleased to share a libation.
2. Applicant should be familiar with and able to utilize colloquial speech.
3. Applicant must have at least one referential word or phrase which he or she can demonstrate initiative in utilizing. Examples: "Decider" "Maverick"
4. Applicant must not be able to pronounce "nuclear."
5. Offspring active in local athletics is a plus. Uncontrollable daughters are a definite plus.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Grand and Old and...Party?
Last night I watched the end of the Republican National Convention, and I'm pretty sure I saw John McCain give a concession speech. I was puzzled when he shifted there at the end from a toned-down form of the same vague policy outline and sharp attack on all-things-Democrat that every other speaker at the RNC had given. I was puzzled because he shifted into something worthwhile and inspiring. Forgive my cynicism, but I honestly didn't expect that, given the tone of the rest of the convention.Those people are mad. Mad, mad, mad. They keep trying to spin blatant self-interest and oligarchical politics into "family values" and it's looking more and more like lipstick on a pig.
So they go on the attack.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the concession. See, here's what has happened: John McCain, who is probably a good man, and who has served his country with honor, lost control of his campaign. He wanted to run a relatively (this is politics we're talking about) decent campaign and talk about issues. I really believe this, despite all evidence to the contrary. He began the election cycle with good advisers who would help him do that.
Then Barack Obama became the presumptive Democratic nominee, and Obamania took root in wider and wider crop circles. McCain's camp panicked and called in the dogs. And by "dogs" (to mix metaphors), I mean the minions of Karl Rove, who is not a good man and who has not served his country--or anyone else--with valor, honor or any other virtue I can think of, unless you count success as a virtue and I do not.
The Rovites drove the McCain campaign to the right. They convinced the candidate that campaign ads with substance were "old school," and the thing to do was associate the other guy with Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears. Just throw that out there and let paranoia and latent racism do the rest.
Then they convinced their candidate, Mr. McCain, to abandon his choice for a running mate, Joe Lieberman. Lieberman, the "Independent Democrat" cast into the role of this year's Zell Miller, wasn't going to give McCain any sort of Conservative Street Cred. Obama had had the sense to pick a running mate who filled in some of his gaps, notably foreign policy experience. McCain had a relatively moderate record (for a 21st century Republican) on right wing red meat, so he needed someone that the Phyllis Shlafly/Tony Perkins crowd could get excited about. Plus, there are apparently a whole bunch of Hillary Clinton supporters just dying to vote for the Republican ticket.
Is there such a thing as a "zero issue voter?" I can't imagine another way to explain how anyone could go from supporting Hillary Clinton to supporting John McCain. I just can't. She's not even a reasonably moderate Democrat. She's a liberal. It's (at least in part) why I like her, and why I'm still mad at her about the war.
And you'd have to be a character in a Twilight Zone episode to shift allegiances from Clinton to McCain now, since said Rovites talked their candidate into choosing as a running mate someone who shares in common with Mrs. Clinton the fact that they both have ovaries, and not a damn thing else I can think of, except for initial support of the bloody Iraq War. It's a wildly cynical, totally pandering choice, and I just can't believe John McCain went there willingly. I think he just gave in. And after last night, I can't help but also think that a little part of him gave up.
Which is why he finished his speech last night with a call to service. He wanted to say something of substance in this campaign before it goes totally south. And he did.
From here on out it gets ugly. The mudslinging has been immediate and breathtaking. Yesterday, Sarah Palin accused the Obama campaign of "spreading lies" about her family. When asked, no one in the McCain/Palin camp could name a single person in the Obama/Biden camp who had said anything negative, not to mention untrue, about her family. Barack Obama has declared any negative comments about her family off limits to his campaign staff, and promised to fire anyone who slings any mud at her private life. But the truth has left the building. From here on out we get the muddy and the muddier.
So thank you, John McCain, for reminding us last night that we are called to serve. Thank you for your brave service to our country. I hope that the rest of this campaign affords you some opportunity to continue serving the best interests of America, but I'm afraid I'm not holding my breath.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
God and Country Buffet
I'm just back from a really fabulous weekend in Branson, Missouri, with two really fabulous people, Rick and Valorie. I'm pretty sure I'd have a good time with them anywhere, but we sure had a good time in Branson.
We engaged in some very Branson-y pastimes--went shopping at not one, but two outlet malls, which is something I like more than I like to admit. I have a little trouble getting motivated to actually go shopping, but once I'm there, I rather enjoy it. Especially at the outlets, where you can get really awesome Van Heusen shirts and Bass shoes for cheap cheap cheap. And I bought three good bras, so now I'm good for another seven years (which would be the last time I bought decent bras. Yes that's pathetic, but have you ever had to buy bras? It's not much fun. I never even know what size I am, since it seems to change. Okay, that's probably enough blogging about bras.)
We also ate at the breakfast buffet twice, which is really a lot less all-you-can-eat than one could enjoy in almost four days in Branson. Seriously, we could have packed on five, ten pounds. But we were reasonably good. We went to the grocery store and bought healthy food and ate meals at our condo. We ate out at a few restaurants, but we didn't go overboard. And we worked out every morning except for Labor Day which is a day of rest dammit.
And we went fishing with Val and Rick's equally fabulous friend, Martin. Twice. Valorie caught a very nice bass the second time. And we hung out at the pool. Played miniature golf on the course at the condo. Did one touristy thing--The Butterfly Palace and Rainforest Adventure--which was really pretty nice, if a bit expensive.
I did not count, so this is an unofficial statistic, but I am reasonably certain that Branson has more churches and American flags than any other city in the world. Definitely more churches flying American flags. Definitely more blurring of the line between Christian faith and American patriotism. Actually, the line is pretty much invisible in Branson.
But other than some vague discomfort at the sense that I was in a town that would definitely have been the setting for an Orwell novel had George ever been there, I had a really good time.
It did seem like the perfect place to be when John McCain picked Sarah Palin to be his running mate. But surely that is another entry.
We engaged in some very Branson-y pastimes--went shopping at not one, but two outlet malls, which is something I like more than I like to admit. I have a little trouble getting motivated to actually go shopping, but once I'm there, I rather enjoy it. Especially at the outlets, where you can get really awesome Van Heusen shirts and Bass shoes for cheap cheap cheap. And I bought three good bras, so now I'm good for another seven years (which would be the last time I bought decent bras. Yes that's pathetic, but have you ever had to buy bras? It's not much fun. I never even know what size I am, since it seems to change. Okay, that's probably enough blogging about bras.)
We also ate at the breakfast buffet twice, which is really a lot less all-you-can-eat than one could enjoy in almost four days in Branson. Seriously, we could have packed on five, ten pounds. But we were reasonably good. We went to the grocery store and bought healthy food and ate meals at our condo. We ate out at a few restaurants, but we didn't go overboard. And we worked out every morning except for Labor Day which is a day of rest dammit.
And we went fishing with Val and Rick's equally fabulous friend, Martin. Twice. Valorie caught a very nice bass the second time. And we hung out at the pool. Played miniature golf on the course at the condo. Did one touristy thing--The Butterfly Palace and Rainforest Adventure--which was really pretty nice, if a bit expensive.
I did not count, so this is an unofficial statistic, but I am reasonably certain that Branson has more churches and American flags than any other city in the world. Definitely more churches flying American flags. Definitely more blurring of the line between Christian faith and American patriotism. Actually, the line is pretty much invisible in Branson.
But other than some vague discomfort at the sense that I was in a town that would definitely have been the setting for an Orwell novel had George ever been there, I had a really good time.
It did seem like the perfect place to be when John McCain picked Sarah Palin to be his running mate. But surely that is another entry.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Popular
If you haven't yet seen the Paris Hilton "ad" responding to the McCain camp using her in their ad, click here and watch it: http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/64ad536a6d
Great stuff. Really great stuff. I have newfound appreciation for Ms. Hilton.
It appears that the criticism of Barack Obama is actually going to center on his popularity. I guess the argument is that a lot of people like him and that's bad...
Can someone explain to me why we should be suspicious of the fact that Senator Obama is drawing a crowd?
Great stuff. Really great stuff. I have newfound appreciation for Ms. Hilton.
It appears that the criticism of Barack Obama is actually going to center on his popularity. I guess the argument is that a lot of people like him and that's bad...
Can someone explain to me why we should be suspicious of the fact that Senator Obama is drawing a crowd?
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Learning What It Is To Be Poor
I went to a Poverty Simulation yesterday. Jerry, one of the amazing organizers at Communities Creating Opportunity (CCO) asked if I wanted to go, and I jumped at it. Though I wondered how it would be. I've been to exercises like this that are designed to help one understand the plight of others, but they are often heavy-handed and didactic.
This one was not. It was tremendously well-done. An organization called MACA (Missouri Association for Community Action) has put together a whole experience. If you want to read about it, their website is http://www.communityaction.org/. Click on "poverty simulation."
We were each given an identity when we arrived. We went to our family groups, where we had a whole packet of stuff. There were sheets of information about our family: what our income sources were, what our bills were (when things had to be paid, etc.), etc. You got "transportation passes" and an EBT (Electronic Benefits Transfer) card if you had benefits like food stamps or other aid. You got some possessions which you could pawn, if you had to.
Our family was not on the lowest end of the income scale in this country. We had two cars for four people, and monthly income of about $1700, including disability and food stamps.
The exercise is conducted in fifteen minute sections, each representing a week. You have to figure out how to get to where you need to go, do all of your shopping, pay your bills, go to work in that fifteen minutes. And you need a transportation pass to go anywhere. If you work (I was the father in the family and I worked), you needed five transportation passes for each week of work. We started the week with six. I went off to work with my five, but then I couldn't go to the bank to cash my check. I had to go to the check-cashing store and pay extra to buy more transportation passes. And I only got one bill paid, because I ran out of time. Up went my blood pressure, and I wondered what it must be to have to decide how to get places, which bill to pay this week, whether you should pay the bank or the check cashing stand to cash your paycheck, since you don't have a bank account.
Of course, it took three weeks to save enough to pay our mortgage. We did finish the month with some money, but we encountered no contingencies. Some families arrived at the bank to find that they had outstanding loans. Some were given green cards which informed them that they had had an accident, or the car broke down, or some other contingency that wreaked havoc upon their income.
Oh, and there were thieves afoot. I dropped twenty-one transportation passes on my chair and went off to do something else, and they disappeared. We got to buy them back from the gentleman who stole them.
I was amazed at how much stress I felt from the beginning of the exercise. We tried to prepare beforehand, but we found ourselves running around some of the time trying to take care of things. And we surely cheated, borrowing transportation passes from one another in the middle of the room. If I were really stuck at work with no transportation, I'm not sure my mother-in-law would materialize out of thin air to get me to Point B.
I am a pretty aware person, I think. I think about, and pray about, poverty in this country. But it was eye-opening to walk in the shoes of someone who is struggling to get by day to day. I've certainly lived hand to mouth before, but never with a family, and I've been blessed with good health and a good education. I've been privileged, in other words. I'm privileged now.
So, of course, the question is "how can I use my own privilege to improve the lives of others?" Working on it. All suggestions honored and appreciated.
This one was not. It was tremendously well-done. An organization called MACA (Missouri Association for Community Action) has put together a whole experience. If you want to read about it, their website is http://www.communityaction.org/. Click on "poverty simulation."
We were each given an identity when we arrived. We went to our family groups, where we had a whole packet of stuff. There were sheets of information about our family: what our income sources were, what our bills were (when things had to be paid, etc.), etc. You got "transportation passes" and an EBT (Electronic Benefits Transfer) card if you had benefits like food stamps or other aid. You got some possessions which you could pawn, if you had to.
Our family was not on the lowest end of the income scale in this country. We had two cars for four people, and monthly income of about $1700, including disability and food stamps.
The exercise is conducted in fifteen minute sections, each representing a week. You have to figure out how to get to where you need to go, do all of your shopping, pay your bills, go to work in that fifteen minutes. And you need a transportation pass to go anywhere. If you work (I was the father in the family and I worked), you needed five transportation passes for each week of work. We started the week with six. I went off to work with my five, but then I couldn't go to the bank to cash my check. I had to go to the check-cashing store and pay extra to buy more transportation passes. And I only got one bill paid, because I ran out of time. Up went my blood pressure, and I wondered what it must be to have to decide how to get places, which bill to pay this week, whether you should pay the bank or the check cashing stand to cash your paycheck, since you don't have a bank account.
Of course, it took three weeks to save enough to pay our mortgage. We did finish the month with some money, but we encountered no contingencies. Some families arrived at the bank to find that they had outstanding loans. Some were given green cards which informed them that they had had an accident, or the car broke down, or some other contingency that wreaked havoc upon their income.
Oh, and there were thieves afoot. I dropped twenty-one transportation passes on my chair and went off to do something else, and they disappeared. We got to buy them back from the gentleman who stole them.
I was amazed at how much stress I felt from the beginning of the exercise. We tried to prepare beforehand, but we found ourselves running around some of the time trying to take care of things. And we surely cheated, borrowing transportation passes from one another in the middle of the room. If I were really stuck at work with no transportation, I'm not sure my mother-in-law would materialize out of thin air to get me to Point B.
I am a pretty aware person, I think. I think about, and pray about, poverty in this country. But it was eye-opening to walk in the shoes of someone who is struggling to get by day to day. I've certainly lived hand to mouth before, but never with a family, and I've been blessed with good health and a good education. I've been privileged, in other words. I'm privileged now.
So, of course, the question is "how can I use my own privilege to improve the lives of others?" Working on it. All suggestions honored and appreciated.
Monday, August 11, 2008
The Tyranny of Tomatoes
In the past week and a half, three people have given me tomatoes. One person has brought tomatoes three times--my neighbor, Franco, who is the loveliest person I've had the pleasure of living next door to in a long time.
I have a lot of tomatoes. Garrison Keillor, the great Lutheran sage, has a wonderful monologue about tomato season in Lake Wobegon, which includes leaving bags of tomatoes on neighbors' porches, ringing the doorbell and running away. The tyranny of tomatoes. We wait and wait for them, but when they arrive, they can be a little overwhelming. And then they disappear.
There's probably an interesting analogy to be drawn between fresh, local tomatoes and enthusiastic new church members. I don't think I'll draw it. Use your imagination.
I'm ever so grateful to receive all of these tomatoes. I truly, truly am. I can't drive yet, and there is no grocer in my neighborhood, so fresh food that comes to the door is a Godsend. I'm almost out of the leftovers of all the meals I cooked with my mom. Almost--there's still a slice of quiche left. I had to throw out the dregs of the meatloaf we cooked a week and a half ago.
I'm just not sure I can eat all of these beautiful tomatoes. I'm not sure I should eat them all, because I'm not good at eating just a tomato. I prefer to put tomato slices between two pieces of toasted wheat bread with mayo and bacon. Now that's a good summer sandwich. Healthy, too...all those fresh tomato slices...and, um, bacon and mayo.
The other thing that is delicious with tomato is fresh mozzarella. Give me enough tomatoes, and I can go through an 8 oz. ball of mozzarella in a couple of days. All you need is fresh basil (I keep a plant in the house at all times) and balsamic vinegar to make a nice little vinaigrette. Recipe for a nice little balsamic vinaigrette: drop a crushed clove of garlic in the vinegar, add some herbs, a dash of sugar, and salt and pepper. Let that sit for a half hour or so, fish out all the big chunks, and wisk in olive oil. Simple and delicious. Add a bit of dijon mustard if you like.
I do love tomato season. I just hope pretty soon it gets back to being running season, or it's going to be "buy bigger clothes season." I really must learn to eat a tomato all by itself.
With maybe a sprinkling of fresh parmegian cheese and a drizzle of olive oil.
I have a lot of tomatoes. Garrison Keillor, the great Lutheran sage, has a wonderful monologue about tomato season in Lake Wobegon, which includes leaving bags of tomatoes on neighbors' porches, ringing the doorbell and running away. The tyranny of tomatoes. We wait and wait for them, but when they arrive, they can be a little overwhelming. And then they disappear.
There's probably an interesting analogy to be drawn between fresh, local tomatoes and enthusiastic new church members. I don't think I'll draw it. Use your imagination.
I'm ever so grateful to receive all of these tomatoes. I truly, truly am. I can't drive yet, and there is no grocer in my neighborhood, so fresh food that comes to the door is a Godsend. I'm almost out of the leftovers of all the meals I cooked with my mom. Almost--there's still a slice of quiche left. I had to throw out the dregs of the meatloaf we cooked a week and a half ago.
I'm just not sure I can eat all of these beautiful tomatoes. I'm not sure I should eat them all, because I'm not good at eating just a tomato. I prefer to put tomato slices between two pieces of toasted wheat bread with mayo and bacon. Now that's a good summer sandwich. Healthy, too...all those fresh tomato slices...and, um, bacon and mayo.
The other thing that is delicious with tomato is fresh mozzarella. Give me enough tomatoes, and I can go through an 8 oz. ball of mozzarella in a couple of days. All you need is fresh basil (I keep a plant in the house at all times) and balsamic vinegar to make a nice little vinaigrette. Recipe for a nice little balsamic vinaigrette: drop a crushed clove of garlic in the vinegar, add some herbs, a dash of sugar, and salt and pepper. Let that sit for a half hour or so, fish out all the big chunks, and wisk in olive oil. Simple and delicious. Add a bit of dijon mustard if you like.
I do love tomato season. I just hope pretty soon it gets back to being running season, or it's going to be "buy bigger clothes season." I really must learn to eat a tomato all by itself.
With maybe a sprinkling of fresh parmegian cheese and a drizzle of olive oil.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Holy Wholly Holey
I had surgery last Tuesday. That was a first. "Major surgery," said the paper they sent home with me from the doctor's office. I think that just means they make a reasonably big incision. Which they did. One side of the abdomen to the other, coming dangerously close to Linus, and if you don't know what that means, it's just as well, though I will say that it isn't shorthand for some anatomical part. Dirty mind. Tsk tsk.
It's been almost a week, so I am now forgetting that I still have this hole in my abdomen and sometimes I stand up a little too fast and am sorry. I remember whenever I try to roll over in bed. Sleeping on your back is overrated. Other than that, everything is going swimmingly. My friends and my parishoners (not at all mutually exclusive categories) have been quite lovely. I've got new plants to kill and cards and a basket full of goodies, including an eye shade that has come in handy several times already.
And my mom is here, which is so nice. I do love my mom, and so far we've been together nonstop for over a week--except when they were making my new scar--and we are still liking each other. And we've seen movies. We watch a movie and then we watch another one.
Recommendations:
If you haven't seen Juno yet, get thee to thy Netflicks queue.
The Water Horse is very sweet.
The Other Boleyn Girl was an interesting look at the wives of Henry VIII. I'm glad I didn't pay $10, though.
Up the Yangtze, which we saw at the theater, is a terrific exploration of the gradual flooding of the Yangtze delta as the Three Gorges Dam is completed. Two million people will be displaced by the time the project is finished.
It's been almost a week, so I am now forgetting that I still have this hole in my abdomen and sometimes I stand up a little too fast and am sorry. I remember whenever I try to roll over in bed. Sleeping on your back is overrated. Other than that, everything is going swimmingly. My friends and my parishoners (not at all mutually exclusive categories) have been quite lovely. I've got new plants to kill and cards and a basket full of goodies, including an eye shade that has come in handy several times already.
And my mom is here, which is so nice. I do love my mom, and so far we've been together nonstop for over a week--except when they were making my new scar--and we are still liking each other. And we've seen movies. We watch a movie and then we watch another one.
Recommendations:
If you haven't seen Juno yet, get thee to thy Netflicks queue.
The Water Horse is very sweet.
The Other Boleyn Girl was an interesting look at the wives of Henry VIII. I'm glad I didn't pay $10, though.
Up the Yangtze, which we saw at the theater, is a terrific exploration of the gradual flooding of the Yangtze delta as the Three Gorges Dam is completed. Two million people will be displaced by the time the project is finished.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Boanerges
I really love going to daily mass. I love beginning the day with scripture and prayer among the community of the faithful. And I love being reminded of events on the church calendar which might otherwise escape my attention. For instance, today is the feast day of St. James, brother of John, son of Zebedee. I am so glad to be reminded of this, because I'm rather fond of James and his brother John. You kind of have to be fond of them together, since they don't seem to have done much apart.
I like these two because they are good, faithful disciples who also happen to be delightfully human. As such, I identify with them rather easily.
In the third chapter of Mark's gospel, Jesus calls the sons of Zebedee "Boanerges", which is a Greek rendering of an Aramaic word which Mark tells us means "sons of thunder." We'll have to take Mark's word for it, since the scholars aren't entirely sure on that front.
I'm glad to take Mark's word for it, because I love the image of James and John as The Sons of Thunder. They're blustery and strong and hasty. They come to Jesus and ask permission to sit at his right and left hand when he "comes into his glory." Even worse, in Matthew's retelling of that story, they send their mother!
While it is presumptuous, of course, to ask for the seats of greatest honor for life eternal, that's not their greatest sin in making the request. If we believe what we say when we recite the creeds, that Jesus is "seated at the right hand of God," then the seat to Jesus' left is, um, God's. So one of the Sons of Thunder (unwittingly I'm really hoping) asks to sit in God's chair.
When I was on internship, I took a group of students to Washington, DC, and we got a tour of the Federal Reserve. This included going into the boardroom, where we took turns sitting in Alan Greenspan's chair. It felt powerful. Then when we passed him in the hallway outside, I felt like I should apologize for pretending to be him, however briefly. The truth is, I couldn't be Alan Greenspan for five minutes.
Or God. I couldn't be God for a nanosecond.
And neither could the Sons of Thunder.
What they could do was accompany the Son of God, during some very significant moments--on the mountain of Tabor at the Transfiguration; at the Garden of Gethsemane just before Jesus was arrested. They were his friends; he chose them, along with Peter, to be with him in moments when he drew near to God. They never quite understood what happened on the mountain, and they fell asleep in the garden. But they were there.
Sometimes the best we can do is to try to be with Jesus. Try to walk the pathway he would walk, and to be with the people he would be with. Knowing all the while that we're not him, and we sure aren't God. We're just our imperfect human selves--full of thunder and laughter and tears.
But hang around Jesus long enough and crazy things happen. The next thing you know you've got your own feast day.
I like these two because they are good, faithful disciples who also happen to be delightfully human. As such, I identify with them rather easily.
In the third chapter of Mark's gospel, Jesus calls the sons of Zebedee "Boanerges", which is a Greek rendering of an Aramaic word which Mark tells us means "sons of thunder." We'll have to take Mark's word for it, since the scholars aren't entirely sure on that front.
I'm glad to take Mark's word for it, because I love the image of James and John as The Sons of Thunder. They're blustery and strong and hasty. They come to Jesus and ask permission to sit at his right and left hand when he "comes into his glory." Even worse, in Matthew's retelling of that story, they send their mother!
While it is presumptuous, of course, to ask for the seats of greatest honor for life eternal, that's not their greatest sin in making the request. If we believe what we say when we recite the creeds, that Jesus is "seated at the right hand of God," then the seat to Jesus' left is, um, God's. So one of the Sons of Thunder (unwittingly I'm really hoping) asks to sit in God's chair.
When I was on internship, I took a group of students to Washington, DC, and we got a tour of the Federal Reserve. This included going into the boardroom, where we took turns sitting in Alan Greenspan's chair. It felt powerful. Then when we passed him in the hallway outside, I felt like I should apologize for pretending to be him, however briefly. The truth is, I couldn't be Alan Greenspan for five minutes.
Or God. I couldn't be God for a nanosecond.
And neither could the Sons of Thunder.
What they could do was accompany the Son of God, during some very significant moments--on the mountain of Tabor at the Transfiguration; at the Garden of Gethsemane just before Jesus was arrested. They were his friends; he chose them, along with Peter, to be with him in moments when he drew near to God. They never quite understood what happened on the mountain, and they fell asleep in the garden. But they were there.
Sometimes the best we can do is to try to be with Jesus. Try to walk the pathway he would walk, and to be with the people he would be with. Knowing all the while that we're not him, and we sure aren't God. We're just our imperfect human selves--full of thunder and laughter and tears.
But hang around Jesus long enough and crazy things happen. The next thing you know you've got your own feast day.
Friday, July 18, 2008
MISSING!
Saint Francis is missing. Not the actual saint, of course, but the statue we brought from our old building to our new location. The new location is a storefront, which has benefitted greatly from the addition of a few well placed touchstones from our former life in Ye Olde Church Building. The concrete statue of St. Francis was one such touchstone.Concrete.
Weighing in at a venerable eighty to one hundred pounds.
Heavy.
So we didn't worry too much about him being out in the planter box in front of the storefr...church. In fact, it was lovely to have such a grand symbol of compassion for all living beings marking our front entrance. It made the place look like a church, and not a chiropractor's office.
I have to use past tense, because a couple of weeks ago, St. Francis disappeared from the spot he had been occupying for well over a year now. No ransom note. No evidence of foul play. Just a big hole in the ivy where once stood a medieval saint.
Francis would likely forgive this bit of petty larceny. But he is a saint. I am not a saint, so I am irritated.
Someone has stolen our statue, and I'd like to have him back. St. Francis was performing a number of functions and we wanted him to continue to perform them. He was saying something about our community--that we are lovers of living things, that we have our roots in the church catholic. He was doing outreach to people in the neighborhood. One of our neighbors brought regular offerings and laid them at his feet. This was a cool thing--we had an ecumenical planter box! I liked that.
I don't know if we'll get a new statue. That's the second one stolen, which is disheartening. We had a nice lion and lamb statue, which I bought at Hobby Lobby for twenty bucks. It was also a nice symbol, and it was disappointing when it disappeared. A little more understandable, I guess, since it was made of plastic and not solid concrete.
In response to the theft of St. Francis, the nicest woman I know said "I hope they got a hernia." Yes, we are upset.
I love being a church close to the street, but I guess it has its drawbacks. We're not leaving, though. It is good to worship amidst one's neighbors, both the ones who bring flowers for a saint, and those who steal statues.
Newsworthy
Heard this morning on NPR:
"Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama has nothing official on his calendar for today. Presumably he will be preparing for his visit to the Middle East..."
I love NPR. But I have to admit that even in the era of the 24 hour news cycle, Barack Obama's empty calendar just doesn't seem like news to me.
"Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama has nothing official on his calendar for today. Presumably he will be preparing for his visit to the Middle East..."
I love NPR. But I have to admit that even in the era of the 24 hour news cycle, Barack Obama's empty calendar just doesn't seem like news to me.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Inclusive Worship
I've just returned from 8:00 Mass at Holy Rosary Catholic Church in my neighborhood, yet another of the distinct blessings of living in Columbus Park.
I arrived shortly before the service began and took one of the few remaining seats. I'm still learning a few of the responses to the various petitions in the Mass. I'm Lutheran, so the whole thing is very familiar. There are a few responses, however, that are particular to a Catholic service. So I'm listening to the couple on one side of me, and the lady on the other side, trying to pick them up, and eventually I realize that I'm not going to get anywhere doing that. Because the couple is responding in Spanish. And the lady is responding in Vietnamese. I speak a little Spanish and no Vietnamese, and tend to use English for worship.
It was great!
I'll pick up the remaining couple of phrases eventually. But I will never be able to trade the experience of sitting in worship with people praying in (at least) three languages. Isn't that what the house of God is supposed to sound like?
I arrived shortly before the service began and took one of the few remaining seats. I'm still learning a few of the responses to the various petitions in the Mass. I'm Lutheran, so the whole thing is very familiar. There are a few responses, however, that are particular to a Catholic service. So I'm listening to the couple on one side of me, and the lady on the other side, trying to pick them up, and eventually I realize that I'm not going to get anywhere doing that. Because the couple is responding in Spanish. And the lady is responding in Vietnamese. I speak a little Spanish and no Vietnamese, and tend to use English for worship.
It was great!
I'll pick up the remaining couple of phrases eventually. But I will never be able to trade the experience of sitting in worship with people praying in (at least) three languages. Isn't that what the house of God is supposed to sound like?
Monday, June 09, 2008
Inclusive Language
My seminary is in Berkeley, California. I love Berkeley. It is a world unto itself, a place where one can be just about anything and it is allowed. Maybe not Republican. But then again, maybe so. In Berkeley, we were all about inclusivity. At the seminary, and in fact throughout the Graduate Theological Union (the consortium of nine seminaries of various traditions), there was an Inclusive Language Policy. The Policy stated that students should make every effort to use gender-neutral language for God and for humanity. In fact, they could be penalized for failure to attend to language inclusivity.
Inclusive language is a good thing. It's a bit difficult to understand yourself as created in the image of God if that image is male and you are female.
Inclusive language can open us to new possiblities. But it can also be a barrier. I've spent some time lately rethinking the word "queer." (With a little help.) I like the word. I've used it. I used it a lot when I lived in Berkeley. I recently came across a grade sheet about a paper I wrote subtitled "Why Queer Christians Stay in Mainline Churches."
I used the word because it kept me from subtitling my paper "Why Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning People Stay in Mainline Churches." "Queer" is a nice shortcut. It includes a lot of people. Or it is meant to, anyway.
The thing is, the word "queer" is harsh and abrasive to a lot of people as well. So it can exclude a lot of people who would never identify as "queer," even though they locate themselves in the alphabet soup of LGBTQ.
Our Synod--the Lutheran church body which oversees congregations in Missouri and Kansas--isn't all that worried about inclusive language when it comes to LGBTQ, or God, for that matter. But the Synod is attentive to being inclusive of all the people who are in a room at a particular time. This is a good, welcoming practice.
One of the linguistic impulses the Synod follows is the use of the phrase "rostered persons" to denote clergy and persons in other called ministries. We have Associates in Ministry, for instance, who are not clergy, but are in called positions, serving the church in a variety of capacities.
So we're at worship yesterday--a Lutheran service with a very evangelical sensibility (go ahead, try to make sense of that). And the Creed was a responsive reading (don't even try to make sense of that), with the responses broken into three categories: men, women, and rostered.
I laughed, at first, because the idea that those are three distinct categories is sort of amusing. But the categories are shorthand, of course. "Men" and "women" are actually the categories for male and female laypersons, and "rostered" is the category for persons in called ministries--clergy, AIMs, other professionals like pastoral counselors.
Which means that the three categories were inclusive of everyone in the room, I think. Except me. I am not a layperson. I'm clergy, but I'm not "rostered" clergy. So I didn't really know when to speak, which kind of sucks when you're being asked to profess your faith, and I rather like doing that.
This is not a huge deal, but whenever it happens--which is more often than I'd like--it is a good reminder that our efforts to be inclusive may, in fact, exclude folks. If you've ever made the mistake of trying to name all of the affinity groups in a room and left someone out, you already know this. People don't like to be left out. All people. I think. Or maybe just some.
Inclusive language is a good thing. It's a bit difficult to understand yourself as created in the image of God if that image is male and you are female.
Inclusive language can open us to new possiblities. But it can also be a barrier. I've spent some time lately rethinking the word "queer." (With a little help.) I like the word. I've used it. I used it a lot when I lived in Berkeley. I recently came across a grade sheet about a paper I wrote subtitled "Why Queer Christians Stay in Mainline Churches."
I used the word because it kept me from subtitling my paper "Why Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Questioning People Stay in Mainline Churches." "Queer" is a nice shortcut. It includes a lot of people. Or it is meant to, anyway.
The thing is, the word "queer" is harsh and abrasive to a lot of people as well. So it can exclude a lot of people who would never identify as "queer," even though they locate themselves in the alphabet soup of LGBTQ.
Our Synod--the Lutheran church body which oversees congregations in Missouri and Kansas--isn't all that worried about inclusive language when it comes to LGBTQ, or God, for that matter. But the Synod is attentive to being inclusive of all the people who are in a room at a particular time. This is a good, welcoming practice.
One of the linguistic impulses the Synod follows is the use of the phrase "rostered persons" to denote clergy and persons in other called ministries. We have Associates in Ministry, for instance, who are not clergy, but are in called positions, serving the church in a variety of capacities.
So we're at worship yesterday--a Lutheran service with a very evangelical sensibility (go ahead, try to make sense of that). And the Creed was a responsive reading (don't even try to make sense of that), with the responses broken into three categories: men, women, and rostered.
I laughed, at first, because the idea that those are three distinct categories is sort of amusing. But the categories are shorthand, of course. "Men" and "women" are actually the categories for male and female laypersons, and "rostered" is the category for persons in called ministries--clergy, AIMs, other professionals like pastoral counselors.
Which means that the three categories were inclusive of everyone in the room, I think. Except me. I am not a layperson. I'm clergy, but I'm not "rostered" clergy. So I didn't really know when to speak, which kind of sucks when you're being asked to profess your faith, and I rather like doing that.
This is not a huge deal, but whenever it happens--which is more often than I'd like--it is a good reminder that our efforts to be inclusive may, in fact, exclude folks. If you've ever made the mistake of trying to name all of the affinity groups in a room and left someone out, you already know this. People don't like to be left out. All people. I think. Or maybe just some.
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