Salamanders

The salamanders must have made their crossing by now. In fact, they could have gone back and forth a few times, there have been so many rainy nights over forty degrees of late. I sit in my comfy living room thinking: I should get a flashlight and my raincoat and go out and SEE them. I should, I really should. Then it occured to me. I am not an amphibian. I don't want to be amphibious. I will stay in. Despite the fact that right now as I am typing this, my Rhapsody player started playing Ben Folds' version of "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head"!

Even the handbasket's broken

the handbasket that we're going to hell in, is nowadays no hand woven feat of human creativity but a disintegrating maelstrom. What has thrust me into such a bad mood, first thing in the morning, when I only am just coming from a lovely yoga class? Perhaps it is the fact that something very Important is going on at neighboring Pixieville College (not to be confused with the University of Pixieville). I'm not even that upset that there's nowhere to park, and people were zipping through the four-way stop sign like they were going to win a very big prize for getting ahead by one car. But when two middle-aged white guys, engaged in their very Important conversation, see a lady in a hot pink raincoat, you would think they might condense themselves to their allotted half of the sidewalk. Or at least say "excuse me" when--because she does not move onto the soggy grass--one must brush past her. This is the second time this week that I have not been able to walk on the sidewalk to this church without being pushed off it! This is a small town! I left New York cause I couldn't take this kind of rudeness!!! I could have been working at a well-paying job (at least) if I stayed there. Next time I am just going to stop and yell, "Excuse me for walking on the sidewalk and interrupting your very important conversation. Next time I'll just lie down here so you can tromple all over me!"

Spring Peepers!

We heard them last night--loud! Stay on the salamander alert!

Addiction to busyness

Never is it more apparent than during Holy Week just how addicted to busyness the parishioners of St. Jonah's and other residents of greater Pixieville are. I mean seriously, how can a member of the Vestry no less, think this is a good time to explore new ways to lock cabinets for storage of valuables? How can the fund-raising committee imagine that this is when you ask the Parish Administrator to begin a mass mailing? You'd almost think this parish was filled with a bunch of pagans who didn't realize that the most important week of observances is underway and that this means that the office is completely busy making its fabulous bulletins for all of them! They should all be sentenced to having their eyes pinned open and watching The Passion over and over until they get a clue!

The Two Processions

Palm Sunday at St. Jonah's was energized by the buzz of Borg and Crossan's new take on Jesus' triumphal entry. Those of us who appreciate structuralist criticism find it nice: Jesus rode on a donkey as a counterpoint to Pilate's militaristic procession. Yes, a more graphic illustration of the principle that Jesus clearly stated: God's kingdom is not of this world. Then how do Borg and Crossan use this to disprove the concept of substitutionary atonement and take some digs at Gibson's Passion (are we still talking about that? And not about his latest proclamation of insensitivity in Apocalypto?) ? Quite a feat, I might add. And one in need, I think, of some post-structuralist trashing of binaries (lest we want to hop on the other foot and wonder about those who substitute justice for worship). That is, they see Jesus' driving out of the money changers as reflecting on Jeremiah's criticism of "worshiping God as a substitute for enacting God's justice." Excuse me? Worshiping God a substitute--for anything? Isn't it the chief end of our existence? Perhaps I am just being a pesky English teacher, picking on poor Borg & Crossan for an unfortunate choice of words. They didn't mean actually worshiping the living God, they meant engaging in empty rituals (which is what Jeremiah was criticizing). But I'm afraid this is a telling and egregious error, revealing the murky priorities expressed in this article and by those who are so eager to embrace its view. We don't want to carry our palm leaves down the side street in town to show that we love and adore the Holy One of Israel. No, we need to prove we are standing against Empire. That way we'll prove we're worthy.