Metaphori

"Give me any word in English and I will tell you how it came from the Greek." My Popou is a proud Greek man and he loved to play this game with me. Metaphor he told me came from the Greek-- Metaphori-- wheelbarrow.

Wheelbarrow: a device that takes you from one place to another. That is purpose of a metaphor as well.

Americans are very poor at understanding this-- probably because the only time we learn about it is 7th grade English when we are at our worst: all pimples and hormones, why should we give a damn about devices that take us from one place to another-- our bodies and minds and collective psyche are doing enough of that already by moving us from childhood to adulthood.

Is it any wonder that here we are as a nation struggling with Religious Right who can't see the Metaphor through the JESUS salvation trees and the Spiritual who are frightened to death of the church because so much mystery, the apophatic and the understanding of the Cosmic Christ have been sacrificed for the sake of certainty and dogmatics.

And then there are the believers themselves. As one bumper sticker put it, "Jesus, Save Me From Your Followers." Yup. Sometimes I'm there too. How Christianity and Bigotry ever got into bed together is beyond me.

a fav vlog ger of mine had this awesome theology around the very loaded word, Sin. Rather than separation or pride or missing the mark, the vlogger said it was a spiritual blockage. Wow... I thought... cool, I could go there... there's a good metaphor that takes me from one place to another. It worked for me-- I've been stuck and blocked a lot in my life.

Could hardly believe the comments that people made-- once again, I say it: it amazes me what people say in Cyber-space to each other-- damn we're mean-- no wonder people are scared of Christians-- I'm a little scared myself! People railing on and on: that's NOT the traditional answer!!! Yadayada... burn in hell, heresy... yadayada...

I sometimes wonder why we just can't see theology as wheelbarrow. And no-- it doesn't make God or Spirit or Higher Power any less "real". Why do we need such rigid boxes for God? No wonder why atheists are so strident-- its because Christians can be so ridiculous.

Who wants an image of God & a religion that hasn't changed one iota since the 1oth Century? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Ah, but I am a product of my generation.

The importance of religion is that is a tool-- a wheelbarrow in our soul that is takes us from one place to another.

I suppose that there are those that would cleaverly retort, "Yes and your wheelbarrow will take you to hell." Well, all right... just be sure to save me a seat at the bar if you end up there first.

Everyone deserves someone to share the popcorn with...

She was 38 and dying. It was cancer that was claiming her life. I was a hospital chaplain in Chicago when we met. By my fourth visit, I had the sense there was something she wasn’t telling me. I don’t remember how it came out; if I asked her or if she just told me, but we came to the heart of the matter. She was gay. She had been with her partner for almost a decade and they had a child. Her family was Christian and estranged. The missing component of her story was the fear she lived with: the fear her biological family would not honor her wishes and allow her partner to come hold her hand and be with her as she died. The fear that there would be legal battles over her biological son, their grandson who was “no one” to her partner—even though the boy called her partner mom.

Recently, in Washington state, laws were past that gave gay couples some of the same rights that married couples afford. Of course, prop 8 in California is still fresh in our minds... People from faith communities registered all kinds of responses everything from dismay to joy. Mostly though, dismay. As believers, we often fall back on faith traditions to justify why we believe the way we do about a particular issue. As Americans, we also look to our laws and constitution. It can become complex to navigate between religion and state as our American tradition has a separation of church and state to allow for religious freedoms for all kinds of believers. While for some, this separation is troubling, it has been one of the things that makes our nation great.

From the beginning, religious freedom allowed for a diversity of believers to live along side each other with relative harmony unlike other parts of the world where believers with different ideas were persecuted. Many of us who are here from several generations back are here because our families were seeking freedoms to practice and live the way we wished to live: Life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

What about this woman in the hospital? Oh yes, believers might say that she’s unnatural or against their holy scriptures. But doesn’t even a sinner deserve to have her last wishes honored on her death bed? Aren’t all of us as Americans afforded the rights to choose how we choose to pursue our lives as consenting adults?

I have heard many people say that a family made up of two mothers or two fathers is somehow hurtful to marriage everywhere and perhaps I am just not tracking, but I can’t figure how. As studies continue to show kids who grow up with gay parents tend to be well adjusted, productive children who are as capable as their counter-parts. So how is it that gay families wreck other families? How is it that rights such as a same sex partner being in a hospital room would wreak havoc on a family with a man, woman & a child?

I know that has been a tough issue for many people but I can’t help thinking about that woman in the hospital. I think everyone regardless of our personal religious beliefs deserves the ability to be with the person they love the most in the world. These two adults had shared a decade together and struggled and laughed and cried and dreamed together—come on, even the worst unrepentant sinners get to have their loved ones—I watched as gang members died with mothers and girl friends and gang members there—and somehow that didn’t test the metal of family—I wonder why one woman grieving alongside another would.

Back to the Basics...

The bumper sticker had a big cross on it and read, “Back to basics: Feed the hungry, House the poor, Cloth the naked.

Those are the basic values of being a Christian, aren’t they?

Personally, I'd never guess that by the behavior of so many Christians in our country. Christian has become such a loaded term that folks I know actually call it the C word... man oh man...

So what do people say about those that call themselves the C word? Here are some responses I got from random folks on the street:

"Whenever I think of Christians, I can't help but think of dead babies."

"What?"

"Yea, you know those people who stand with signs outside abortion clinics..."

"People who say they follow Jesus but don't act anything like him."

"People who hate gay people and any else that's different."

Does the Gospel say to do that???

In looking at the Gospels, Jesus is constantly healing people and eating with people. Very rarely, do I find Jesus, as he is healing or feeding people asking, “Wait, what do you believe, or who do you live with?” He simply feeds or eats with outcasts and heals people—even people who are of a different religious background than his!

This is the litmus test for being a Christian--Following a Jesus who says love is the only commandment and commands us to feed and heal and eat with outcasts. So, I wonder, how are we doing as a Christian nation with the basics? Maybe thinking about our nation begins by looking at our own corner of the world.

So how are we doing in Thurston County? The last time I checked, there was a two year waiting list for public housing, the food bank in Thurston County was in high demand, there were over 700 children homeless in our county with places at the local shelters not even able to house half that number, the local tent city, Camp Quixote was still wondering where it will go next after St. John’s, and the Cold weather emergency shelter was scrambling to find a enough churches to host overflow for those that are cold and in need of a place to stay.

What I hear from Christian people grieves me; people who are spending more time arguing about who gets into heaven, who can come to church rather than tending to those that the Gospel requires us to tend to. We don’t have time to bicker about how scripture is supposed to be understood or if you are of the right kind of faith.

I wonder what would happen if all the churches of Thurston County decided to set aside their differences and declared their desire to make sure that people in our community have enough to eat, a place to sleep and clothing on their back, what kind of change would we unleash in our community?

In light of all the need that there is in our immediate community right now, I invite all Christians to roll up their sleeves and to be part of the answer to prayer. What prayer, you might wonder—the Lord’s Prayer! Perhaps the Lord’s Prayer maybe the one thing we all hold in common. Part of praying is that we open ourselves up to be part of the answer to prayer. As one Christian once wrote, “Christ has no hands in the world but yours, no heart in the world but yours… now you are the hands of Christ.”

We ask for our daily bread—maybe we can help be the answer to someone else’s prayer by making sandwiches and give them away to people who need them most.

Lamb of God

I went fishing. While on board this little bobbing in the water boat, I felt a tug to try something different, the tug was not on my line, but somehow in the wind-- cast my net to the other side. I decided to get out, to take a walk on the water. So setting aside my fishing pole and leaving my net on the other side, I took my first step out and plunged deep into the cold gray waters and sunk in deep. Once I was down there, and not struggling, I found I could breathe just fine—all I had to do was stop panicking and drown.

Taking a look around, I noticed a little Greek girl with a grandmother. It was Holy Week, you know that time when Christian folk celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ their teacher. The little Greek girl was maybe eleven and she was fasting with her Ya-ya. The rest of the family thought they were crazy to fast while also preparing for the feast called Easter that come early on Sunday morning. No one else in the house fasted and prepared but them.

The Ya-ya was strange. She had eyes with bulky lids that slid down her face and looked clear on into the other side and a thick accent, with broken English. Sometimes words came rushing but not too often. She said to the child, “You are not old enough to receive the lamb.” She had said this before but the child never questioned it. Today, while kneading the bread dough, the girl found courage. “When, Ya-ya?” she asked. “I will know,” Ya-ya responded. The girl had no idea and didn’t dare ask any further question. The grand-mother after all was strange and had those penetrating eyes that were clear and saw to the other side. The girl knew better than to ask too much.

For two years the girl waited and wondered about this lamb. What was it to receive the lamb? There were always surprises at her grandmother’s house and she had found that waiting was the best way to prove her worth. She knew pressing her grandmother would only cause further delay. Ya-ya was seldom open to negotiation. So, the child had learned that waiting quietly proved best. She was almost 14 when holy week came late that year. Spring was every where budding with pink promises of fragrant offerings and pretty colored eggs. Rabbits and robins were back in the yard again feasting while Ya-ya and grand-daughter fasted and prepared quietly in the kitchen. Working the dough that would later become Easter Bread, Ya-ya proudly watched her grand-daughter work without much instruction. She knew how to make the bread and the soup. “You are old enough now.” She said. The grand-daughter smiled and felt ready for her reward. She hugged her Ya-ya tight. “Come, it is time; the bread can wait. You will come with me.” Grand-daughter cleaned off her hands and took off her apron. Off they went to the church of all places. Just before Easter, the Greek Church became like a market place in early holy week. St Simeon always smelled of incense even outside in the courtyard. There were other smells today— sweet garlic and pungent fish and olives mixed together with the incense of the church. The outdoor area was alive was bustling people speaking and trading and haggling—some were yelling. Grand daughter had never seen this before. There were all kinds of delicacies for sale that were traditional for Easter supper. There were breads and oils and grape-leaves, some imported from Greece. They wandered the market picking up this and that, saying hello to their neighbors also preparing for the feast to come.

At last they came to a pen of cute little lambs. The lambs danced around the pen making their sweet noises, pungent barn smells were in the air. Grand-daughter loved the smell of the barn—manure and straw and wood all mixed together. It was pungent and earthy sweet. “Go ahead, pick!” Ya-ya told her. Smiling the teenaged grand-daughter found the cutest of lambs. It frolicked and danced. “That one,” she said, pointing. Ya-ya gave the farmer a look and nodding the farmer put on a bib, picked up the lamb then disappeared. The two waited but for what? Moments went by still the girl knew better than to say anything. Ya-ya was staring off far, her lined brow was deep and crumbled like a paper in a waste can. She was talking again—whenever she stared off into nothing, the grand daughter knew that she was talking to someone or something not seen. God or Angels or ancestors gone, she didn’t know—she was afraid to ask but someone was talking and grand daughter knew better than to interrupt.

The farmer returned. The white clean bib looked spattered and dipped like someone had taken a can of red paint and splashed him. But somehow the child knew better—the red paint was not a gag gone awry. The man had brown paper packages tied up neatly and he was presenting them to her—Ya-ya’s hands were full so she had to carry it. It was heavy and some of the packages were in a big shopping bag. Grand daughter accepted the packages. She cradled them in her arms knowing that they were the lamb. “Come,” Ya-ya summoned, turning quickly to leave the market. The child followed behind shocked at first then crying. “Some surprise,” she whispered behind her grand mother’s back. There was silence and they continued walking. “Some surprise!” Grand daughter yelled crying harder now. “It was awful. I can’t believe you did that to me. Some surprise. I don’t want to be old enough to receive the lamb!” Ya- ya had heard enough. She turned quickly on the child and looking her direct in the eye as the young woman was now almost taller than her grand mother, “What did you expect?” She asked—“that the lamb would become your pet to run round our house? Where does that food we have on our table every night for supper come from? Is it sent from heaven already dead and wrapped and all the animals on the farm live happy? NO! You see, you do not know and others are too dumb to know—all of life is sacrifice. The lamb died so you can live. It is sacrifice. The olives and the wheat and all that we eat on our table is sacrificed for us. This is why we pray because to not would be to forget the lamb. It is sacrifice do not forget this ever.” The grand-daughter still cried but said nothing more. Ya-ya turned and went on. They went home to prepare the feast and wait for Easter to come when they would shout “Christos Anesti! Alethos Anesti!”

I had seen enough under water. I had lost my breath and maybe drowning wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. I swam to the surface again, to the bobbing little boat where my net dangled on the side and my fishing pole was dormant.

The net was full and it was sacrifice.
It was never the same after that.

I remember a different story.

“The government of the United States of America is not in any sense founded on the Christian Religion.”

I imagine this quote is libel to raise a few eyebrows and perhaps maybe a few readers’ blood pressure. Many Christians these days are talking about a concept called Christian Theocracy, that is, Christians must dominate our American political landscape in order for our country to be that shining city on the hill that was intended by our Founding Fathers. We are one nation under God and In God we trust -- these are core American ideas. We are a Christian Nation and that’s part of our history and legacy.

So what infidel could have uttered such Anti-American words?

It was George Washington who first wrote these words on November 4, 1796 for the Treaty of Tripoli. At the time, this treaty was of great importance to our foreign policy and was later ratified by John Adams; neither of these men blinked an eye over signing this treaty. Was good old George, the man who could never tell a lie, fibbing?

The United States, was founded on a principle of religious tolerance for all peoples. While we were indeed founded by Christian men, they understood the important value of religious freedom and tolerance having fled governments that held with a state religion and persecuted those with dissenting voices.

The idea of a Christian Theocracy is not only ahistorical but clearly different from what was originally intended by the founders of our nation. Our Constitution is clear in the very first amendment of our Bill of Rights—we are free to practice any religion we so choose. While we are one nation under God, it is very clear that this God is far bigger than any one religion.

The real question is this: Are Christian Values the only values? It seems that our founding fathers and Christian Theocrats have two distinctly different answers to that question. Religious freedom and Christian Theocracy are definitely two very distinctly different ideas.

So how is that we have gone so far a field from religious freedom to Christian theocracy?

In a word, fear. In a country that seems more and more governed by the anxious need for safety and security, rather than rights and freedoms, the vision of Christian Theocracy is safe. Religious freedom means allowing Muslims and Jews and Atheists to practice their different beliefs. Christian Theocracy feels safer and after all, we know what Christianity stands for.

Feeding the hungry and clothing the poor, loving our neighbor and our enemies—aren’t those Christian values? I rarely hear those values espoused from Christian theocratic visionaries. What I have heard is fear. Fear of people who are of different beliefs from us.


It is ironic that fear and anxiety have taken such a deep hold over so many Christians that say they value scripture—perhaps they should go back to their Bibles and do a little research—the most popular phrase that Jesus utters more than any other phrase is, “Be not afraid.”

Is Safety and Security worth sacrificing rights and freedoms? I believe that all too many Christians these days would say yes without thinking twice.

Is this kind of fear really a Christian value or even an American value?

One American I know summed it up this way, “those that choose security over freedom deserve neither.” What American would utter such blistering words? Benjamin Franklin.

Spiritual But Not Religious

Here's the article that I wrote for the National Episcopal Church sometime back... dude, this is the Argula Smoking Article...

In the wake of the New Age, and the ever-growing love affair our culture has with all things spiritual, a new mantra has emerged: I’m spiritual, not religious! It is the mantra of ex-Catholics and once-in-awhile Protestants and others on the spiritual path. This emerging mantra has grown up in response to religion that looks more like a museum, religion that says you practice THIS way or you aren’t one of us, religion that isn’t relevant to the life I lead, religion that tells us to believe 12 impossible things before breakfast and leaves no place open for questions or doubt.
And there’s this longing and maybe even a presence of energy in life. Perhaps if you are on the spiritual journey, you have felt this. Energy that gives life and joy — whether it’s looking at Rainer at sunrise, or playing music with others, or sitting with someone in a time of sorrow. That energy is what the Christian people call the presence of the Holy Spirit. The followers of this Jesus know this longing and energy only too well.
What is this longing? It is the longing to live in community with others from all walks of life — a community that is present in sadness and joy, a group of people searching and questioning and doubting and finding more questions about that presence together. It's not about having answers as much as it is about engaging a story. It is about your story and how your story connects to an ancient story of desert wanderers that, in time, came to see that humanity and this energy they called God mingled and existed through Christ and thus, exists in all of humanity.
Is it possible to practice and grow your spirituality within an organized church? Yes! The Episcopal Church holds many possibilities open for those on the spiritual path looking for a diverse community of believers.
The beauty of the Episcopal tradition is that it is open to questions and new possibilities, as well as ancient teachings. Imagine a spiritual practice that is both grounded in tradition and open to new possibilities.

Never Say Never

Perhaps Cliches become cliches for a reason. Never say never is a good one. I once promised myself that I'd never direct a Church Christmas Pageant. Within a year of that promise, guess what happened...

I also swore to myself that I'd never create a blog. Why do I keep on saying Never...

I swore I wouldn't blog because I made the mistake of googling my name once and finding several of my published articles online being dissected by folks who had some really mean things to say. I define mean as slams on my character or on me as a person-- rather than on my writing or what I was trying to say. I live for good constructive feed back on my writing and ministry and thinking... but this was so far from that. In one article dissection, some cyber dude made spectulation that I must have smoked some funny argula or something of the sort... hmm...

Growing up in the Reagan years, with DARE education, I have to tell you, I'm pretty straight laced. I've never even smoked a cigarette-- let alone Argula.

I guess what's gauling is that people somehow online feel like they can say anything they want-- even people who are of a Christian persuasion. Oh yes, in cyber space they will definitely know we are Christians by our love-- NOT.

Hey, I know I'm not alone. I've seen lots of people dissected and torn apart and had slams made on them. So, please understand: I'm not slamming back, rather I'm speculating on what's behind that? Why do we feel like we can say anything we want in cyber space? Why say crappy things about other people? Especially if you espouse a belief in a God that is love. It makes no sense to me. Perhaps its something about the disincarnate nature of the web-- the fact that we can't see the person we're slamming. Is it an outlet for that kind of behavior? I much prefer cycling or walking at quick clips to get that kind of stuff out of me. Seems a lot healthier than ripping apart others.

Maybe its just the sheer enjoyment of being a cyber piranha-- oh the taste of nasty words as they spew forth from the mind, and fingers flutter on a key board like a Liszt composing a concerto, and out into cyber land where with fellow piranha at fav chat room you can enjoy the sweet taste blood thirsty slamming words and personal judgment... there's only one problem with this.

Slamming others in this way and spewing such judgment is like drinking poison and expecting someone else to die. It is toxic and while I at least wandered around for a day or so wondering, "do I sound like some kind of crazy hippy stoner chick in that article?" I got over it. However, I wonder about the soul that has given birth to such words.

In John's Gospel, we constantly hear this theme of unity and oneness. We are connected so deeply and profoundly. All of us. If we really believe this, then why on earth would we say such horrendous things about each other?So, like Christians say they are the Body of Christ. So what-- we hate that part of our body? Are we suddenly like the anorexic model who hates her ass or her boobs and wants to have them remade? Wow, its not a pretty picture is it?

A favorite theologian of mine, Walter Wink talks about the weird irony of hate-- he says that the problem with hate is that we become consumed by it and sooner or later we become that which we hate.

Now, I realize that I'm making a HUGE leap here-- I don't know if I can go so far as to say that cyber piranha hate those that they are ripping apart personally. But judgment and disdain seems to be abundantly present at least and man, where there's judgment and disdain, we're getting close to hate.

I really believe there is power in what we say and call each other and the truth is what we say to others in disdain is a disdain we hold within ourselves for ourselves. In other words, that childhood thing, I'm rubber you're glue... wow, look at that! Another cliche that just might have some truth to it.

Or maybe... I can just say, if you have time to be a cyber piranha then dude, you really need a life-- step away from the keyboard and go be a disciple somewhere: feed hungry people, visit someone in prison, buy your mother some flowers. And if you are Christian doing it, DUUUUDE... that's one hell of an Evangelism tool you're wielding. No wonder the title Christian has become a four letter word. Good job spreading love of God!

So, after much thought, I decided to reneg on another never oath I'd made.
After all, if the piranha want to exercise their blood thirsty cyber jaws, who am I deprive them?

And why should I let some silly cyber fish keep me from enjoying a good cyber swim right? So, here we go... the launching of a new blog.
I can hear the royal trumpets sounding now.