Speaking of Martyrs

For those of us who follow the Daily Office lectionary the days after Christmas can be very confusing. Where are the readings? See page 922 of the Book of Common Prayer for the three Holy Days that occur in this interval.

They are a great relief. After all the sugary sweetness we worked ourselves up into thinking of babies, babies, babies (hope, renewal, yes they are cute, hope, yes we love babies) we can stop stretching the hope muscles for a bit and return to the world as we know it. The first thing that happens after the birth, liturgically, is Stephen gets himself stoned. John, whom we commemorate today, we are told by James Kiefer is "a martyr in will but not in deed." And of course tomorrow there are more babies: dead babies.

We received the good news of a great joy. Now get marching. It begins.

Martyrs

What a heroic woman was Benazir Bhutto. What a loss to the forces of moderation and sanity in this world. For those of us for whom the assassination of JKF remains the early primal trauma memory, such attacks are always painful to hear about.

I taught a short memoir called "American History" by Judith Cofer in this last semester. It is a narrative of a young girl's private trauma on that fateful November day in 1963 when America lost its innocence. Of course, every generation must lose its own innocence anew, a fact that I realized when I read my students' responses to this piece. Without an exception, they all wrote about how this story reminded them of the day that will live forever in their minds: 9/11. They all described where they were and what happened. Some schools kept it in secret, sending them home at the end of the day to let their parents explain. Others gathered in assemblies. Perhaps they'd already had these discussions with their parents, and realized the connection before they read the piece, since the point of the piece is that while Cofer will always remember that the day on which she faced racism and classism head on is the day of the assassination, it is the former which is significant.

more crumbles

I picked up an old copy of Imprimis, the newsletter that my father had received, which now comes to me, from the conservative Hillsdale College. The article, written by a reputable environmental scientist, questions whether global warming is really this crisis brought on by our sins or just a natural ebb and flow of planetary change: http://www.hillsdale.edu/news/imprimis/archive/issue.asp?year=2007&month=08 . It brought into focus many of the concerns that have troubled me. Let's face it. First of, I am troubled by fanaticism. And when I see people freezing their butts off trying to prove that it's getting warmer against all evidence to the contrary (see "Silly Priest tricks" below) I can only name it that. I can only see that those who have been raised in intellectualism and liberalism, when they find faith, cannot act it out by simply battling the sin in their own hearts, but must continue to see some evil empire bringing about destruction. They cannot call it Satan or end times, because that is what the right-wingers do, but they feel it all the same: the doom. What both teams forget is that the doom has always been looming, just as it does now. See Matthew 24, please. We hate change and we want to stop it. We are pathetic. Now that I no longer have to hold the positions of the church I will say it: the emperor has no clothes! I never saw the point in this whole "carbon exchange" idea and this article explains to me that my lack of understanding was not my fault but that it, in fact, makes no sense. Aah. I feel much better now. My dad was right about a lot of stuff, including the idea that the Nobel prize committee folks are by no means a neutral body and that their awards are simply the liberal awards, not some kind of world wide acclamation. Another idol falls. Clunk.

Jail

I had a lengthy dream last night about being in jail. It must have been minimum security, because everyone was wandering around these halls and rooms all the time. The bullies were allowed to do their thing and there were no guards or anyone in charge. Everyone was there. Young girls I knew as well as tough guys with their pants hanging down. There was a library. I went over to look at a big coffee table book on how to withstand torture (the cover was a photo of a guy sitting cooly with a gun pointed at his head) but when I got there it had disappeared. The treasurer from the church walked by. Was he in there too? Then a new load of inmates was coming in, and someone commented because they really should have bought more books in Spanish. None of these people spoke English.

I only mention this dream because when I woke up and came to my computer, the message of the day I get from http://shalomplace.com/seed was the following:

A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes - and is completely
dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened
from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent"
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Disgruntled update

It looks like I will only be furloughed for the winter session, which is all right with me. I will really really really finish the first Nano novel in that time.

More silly priest tricks

While some of us were skiing, and none of us were too warm...