Lectionary inspired rant

The lesson of the creation and the garden and the fall is not about the tangible world but about how truth got in. It is telling us the thing that is most unbelievable, that truth started with one tiny seed. One person and one God. The basic one on one relational nature of monotheism. First with God and Adam, then on to God and the nation of Israel, a relationship which by its uniqueness has caused anger and jealousy ever since, even though the point was that others are invited in. Paul/Saul recognized this when he said in Romans 11 “But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, being a wild olive, were grafted in among them, and became partaker with them of the root and of the richness of the olive tree; don't boast over the branches. But if you boast, it is not you who support the root, but the root supports you.” The mistake of gloating was made by many Christians, and by Mohammed, who passed it on to all Muslims. All these thoughts emerged from reading today’s Psalm, which is highly critical of the Hebrew peoples. But it’s like how a person from one ethnicity is allowed to make ethnic jokes about their own group, or use certain terms that, in the mouth of someone not of that group, would be considered a deadly insult. It’s fine for a Jewish prophet to denounce the Jewish people. But when Mohammed comes along, and reads that, and internalizes it and sends it back out into the world as “the Jews screwed up, now we’re the ones with an in to God” then we got a problem. (Now that I am teaching an online World Lit class, I am reading parts of the Koran for the first time and basically feeling insulted by it, both as a person of Jewish heritage, Christian faith, and as a woman. Hmm, not too many other ways you can insult me.)

Here's today's lesson, which reinforces that sense which, for reasons unknown, even the psalm evoked in me, of the very uniqueness of God and of God's relationship with each one of us.

1 Timothy 2: 1- 6 (NRSV)
1 First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for everyone, 2 for kings and all who are in high positions, so that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity. 3 This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, 4 who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth. 5 For there is one God; there is also one mediator between God and humankind, Christ Jesus, himself human, 6 who gave himself a ransom for all -this was attested at the right time.

It's also a good passage for those of us who don't want to see our church prayer time taken over by prayers that have political agenda. I do feel pain that there are people being tortured and will gladly pray for them, and for the torturers. But let's delete the emphasis on how much better we know how to run the world than do the people running it. As if we would not all become monsters given the power.

Underbellies

Recently, the Dean of the Cathedral stopped into the Church office. He caught up briefly on my life, when I reminded him that he was Curate at the church were I first became an Episcopalian back in the 1980s. "And now you're the church secretary!" Then seeing my expression, commiserated: "You really do see the underbelly of the church, in this job." It is true, for some reason, I am witness to, and often the recipient of, some of the Episcopalian's worst behaviors. But why, I wondered, was this compared to an underbelly? When my kitty lies on his back, stretching out all four paws in relaxation, I exclaim with delight: "such a cute belly--I wants to touch it!" (Not allowed.) When my friend's dog squiggles his back into the dirt, wriggling with pleasure, again, I laugh and enjoy the sight. Underbellies, in our "emotional support animals" are beautiful. Ah, if only I could find such beauty in the parishioner who called a meeting with me and all available clergy, presenting us with a manifesto claiming that removing a few names from the parish phone directory was "unethical" "unconscionable" and "damaging to our community." Excuse me for touching the database without calling an all-Parish meeting! Turned out the problem could be solved by me giving her the addresses of 10 people. Wow. Does that deserve the name of underbelly? Gracious readers, you tell me.

May Day

The periodic cheers rising from a cluster of people gathered on the Common finally draws Doc Bubbles out of her chilly office. She is fortunate to arrive just as poet Martin Espada begins reading his poem "Alabanza." He is a powerful reader, his voice riding the rhythmic swells, emerging from his own rolling deeps, the crowd joining in on the refrain "Alabanza" (bless them, the workers killed in the World Trade Center) and drums beat time as well. Even the hard-hearted Doc Bubbles feels moved, as she strolls through the crowd, with its signs, in various languages, proclaiming that a person cannot be illegal, a point with which it would, admittedly, be hard to disagree. Surely this chanting, this mustering of emotions, is the true descendent of Ginsberg's Howl. Surely this is poetry that can make something happen... if any poetry can, if anything can happen....

A familiar face in the crowd speaks to her, smiling, saying what a great turn out. Ever optimistic, working on every cause, serving on the select board, this individual is truly admirable. Doc Bubbles had been, after all, thinking it was a rather paltry crowd, a pitiful turnout for a town like Pixieville. She can remember when she was young, in the days of the protests against Nixon, against the Vietnam War, how it seemed like the bodies out there on the fields were hugely significant, changing the very structure of reality, sending reverberations of love and peace that shook even the White House. Apparently, those protests did have some actual, not just cosmic, effect, so why does Doc Bubbles tend to relegate those perceptions to the realm of childhood, of stoner fantasy? Why can she do nothing but shake her head at those who place their bodies in town squares now, and think, you innocents, aren't you cute, but, can you really believe any of this matters?