Thoughts and Prayers and Anger

Another day, another shooting in a public place. Maybe more than one such shooting: the day isn't over yet.

What I am thinking is so obvious that I shouldn't have to say it, but lots of folks don't get it, so here goes: the more the crazies in the gun lobby have gained control over our politicians, the more vulnerable the rest of us have become. In the eyes of gun nuts and political nuts alike we ordinary citizens are expendable–sacrificial lambs upon the altar of erroneous readings of the Second Amendment. It's our very own home-grown form of terrorism, carried out (often) by suicide shooters.

Guns, by themselves, don't kill people. People kill people, and Americans with guns kill lots of people. Limiting the number of people is problematical; limiting the number and availability of guns is a matter of political smarts and will. We can do that, and we must.

My thoughts and prayers are with the victims of today's violence. My anger is with those who stonewall against doing anything to reduce the likelihood such violence will continue to plague us.

Religious, But Not Confidently Spiritual

           Unlike many Americans, I consider myself to be religious but not confidently spiritual. This, in a time when many like to claim they are "spiritual, but not religious." My position, as is often the case, is not "trending."

         Any pastor who has ever talked with idealistic couples seeking to get married in church for aesthetic or cultural or family reasons alone knows what I mean. When asked, they often claim to be "spiritual, not religious,” even though they are wanting something done for them by the epitome of religious authority (a clergy person) in a place reeking of religious materiality (a sanctuary).

For some reason the clergy person is supposed to be impressed by such an expression of faith. He or she has every right to feel insulted. I submit the “spiritual but not religious” claim is often meaningless, pandering to what the claimants think they need to say to get what they want out of someone for whom they have little or no real regard.

Best I can tell, the "spiritual but not religious" person entertains vague notions that there is someone or something immaterial out there or in here someplace who or which is accessible by means other than our usual senses…and that, somehow, this whole package of vagueness matters. Makes you feel better, more in touch with the universe, more universal yourself, capable of loving all humankind, and (here's the kicker) not needing anyone or anything physical or material to sustain all those self-generated convictions and yearnings. It's the fantasy that you don't need to devote real time or energy to finding a reality beyond that we know through ordinary perception.

The important part of the above description of the "spiritual but not religious” person is the part about access. In order to be "spiritual," such a person, unlike most "spiritual" people, does not need messy material and physical relationships and practices and symbols. He or she is above all that turmoil, blithely able to know and have a relationship with the "spiritual" based upon...upon...upon...what? Simply hoping it is so?

God knows (seriously), I've tried to enter into the realm of the spiritual, or to allow it to enter into me, with as little physicality involved as possible. Trouble is, I have–I am–a body, and despite my particular body's failures and foibles, I get all the information I get about myself and my world via my physical senses. That includes, I firmly believe, any insights into myself I discover, any emotions or feelings I have, and any understanding of the physical and/or "quantum" nature of the universe. Everything I know about any of that comes via my sense organs and my brain. I don't know how I could access anything "in here" or "out there" apart from my physical apparatus.

I've tried to sit quietly and breathe deeply and recite mantras in an attempt to get in touch with the non-material through as pure a non-material connection as I can create, but it just doesn't work for me. My senses always interfere.

(This failure of mine doesn't have to be my fault, because as a Calvinist I credit the absence of the grace of spirituality in me to predestination. Apparently God has graced many Americans with a gift he or she has chosen to withhold from me. To which I can only say, Praise God!)

It's not that I don't have feelings, emotions, etc., though sometimes I think people wonder if I do. I love classical music, for example; I get tingling and perhaps even "spiritual" from my pointy head to my pained toes when the chorus starts singing in the final movement of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony. It's even better when I am part of that chorus. "I do think I see the heavens open before me,” as I believe Handel is reported to have said about writing the Hallelujah Chorus.

But the music that makes me feel that way comes from vibrating strings setting sound waves in motion through the air until they vibrate my ear drums and somehow become an electrical impulse I can "hear." Just because I don't fully understand all the steps involved is no sign there's anything "spiritual" about the music or the process by which I hear it. It's actually a marvel of "things" working together. And I love how it feels.

I humbly claim to be a "religious, but not confidently spiritual" because any perception of God that I have and try to hold to and respond to is founded in things affecting things in ways that can be understood mechanically, physically, even metaphysically. It's why I go to worship even when I am not sure who or what I am supposed to be worshipping during them. The art and architecture, the words, the prayers, the music, the leadership of someone from whom I can learn something, the sense of community with others who can support and correct me as needed...all those physical, material, mechanical things impact my senses and are processed in my brain and gut. Hopefully, taken together, it makes me a more authentic and just and loving human being. That is, after all, the only valid justification for religious practice. And it's the only reason I can think of for anyone wanting to be "spiritual." Why does anyone think they can become spiritual without being somehow religious?

I am not against "the spiritual," or "spiritual direction," or "spirituality." There is something to it all, though I am not always entirely clear exactly what it is. Whatever the nature of what or who is “out there”, nothing worthy of the word "spiritual" can be known or accessed apart from real life connections and commitments and practices. And religion is all about real life connections, commitments, and practices.

Jesus, after all, sweat his body's blood when he prayed. He asked that he be spared really hard things, and then turned his fate over to God. There's no evidence he sat in the lotus position, breathed, felt good about himself, and then went back to managing his portfolio. "Follow me," he commanded. Stand up. On your two feet. Make a move. Do something. Following him is something you do with the body you've got. If something "spiritual" comes from it, fine; just don't forget how you learned to walk.

If I Posted the Title, You'd Read This One for Sure

A F**kin’ Plea

Here’s a real accomplishment: the fantastic English word “f**k” is to be heard no less than 506 times in the 180-minute-long film, “The Wolf of Wall Street.” That, beloved readers and followers, is apparently some kind of a record.

It averages out to 168.6666 times per hour, which is 2.81111 times per minute, which is a f**k every 21.428571 seconds. When a record is to be broken, Hollywood sure knows how to meet the challenge. I am duly impressed.

Want to know what accomplishing that feels like? Set aside three hours, get a watch with a second hand and then, every 20 seconds or less shout, whisper, or breathe (ah, yes, breathe) “f**k.” Now you’ve broken the record, all by yourself. How does that feel?

In case it is not obvious to you, I am joking. But joking about a very serious matter; namely, that I would like to ask people, starting with my friends, to use the word “f**k” with the respect it deserves, or not to use it at all.

I make this modest request because f**k is a really fine word, one of the most explicit and colorful in the English language. Its two spat consonants and what I’d call guttural vowel make it direct, violent,and seductive. It cuts through all lesser words and kills them. In certain situations, it is the only word that will do the job, whatever the job happens to be. So why waste it with lesser responsibilities?

For example, sometimes people share a Facebook page called, "I F**kin’ Love Science." Why is it called that? What does that mean? Do you have to squeeze in a little f**k get people to read the page, perhaps making science sound cool and hip (are those today’s words for what I mean?) to the young and to those who wish they were young? Would it be so bad simply to “really love science,” or if it’s how you feel, to “adore” science? I don’t get it.

A couple of days ago I got a link to a series of habits and attitudes to which the author intends to say “f**k it" in 2014. There are good ideas in the list, behaviors and practices that probably, in most cases, should be resisted. But why not "just say no" to them, or even shout them down if you must? Do they deserve f**king? Is that the only way to deal with them? Educate me, please.

Okay, so I'm old and have lead a protected life of piety in the church and am easily embarrassed. I’ve never worked on Wall Street or as a stevedore or in the White House. I am not in the mafia, do not live on the western frontier, and don’t do rap or hip hop. I shamefully confess to all those cultural and experiential lacks and more, so dismiss me by calling me old-fashioned, narrow-minded, squeamish, Victorian.

Well, here’s what I think of you…but I’m not offended or threatened by you. You’ve got me wrong, but that’s it. At least for the next 20 seconds.

Strange, But (Apparently) True

The march is history often obscures our memories of things so radically that we actually ended of thinking, "No, that didn't really happen...did it?" Garrison Keillor has two examples of this fact in his Writer's Almanac for today, December 28:

1) On this day in 1973, President Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act into law.  (WHAT President? No!)

Keillor's background information further strains credibility: "In 1972, Nixon outlined his environmental agenda to Congress. He said: "This is the environmental awakening. It marks a new sensitivity of the American spirit and a new maturity of American public life. It is working a revolution in values, as commitment to responsible partnership with nature replaces cavalier assumptions that we can play God with our surroundings and survive." (Nixon said THAT?) He specifically asked for a new Endangered Species Act that would provide early identification and protection of threatened species, and treat hunting or capturing endangered species as a federal offense. In 1973, the House and Senate versions were combined. The Senate passed the bill unanimously, and the House by a vote of 355 to 4. (Congress did WHAT?)

2) "It was on this day in 1945 that Congress officially recognized the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag. It was written in 1892 by a minister and Socialist (!) named Francis Bellamy, who was eventually forced out of his position because he preached too many sermons about Jesus and socialism."

Interestingly, the Rev. Bellamy did NOT include the words "under God" in his original. Keillor writes how they came about: "The words "under God" were added in 1954 to make sure it didn't sound like something that would be recited by Communists." (Nor by Socialists, of course. Or Christians?)

My Lord has come

My Lord has come
Will Todd

Shepherds, called by angels,
Called by love and angels;
No place for them but a stable.
My Lord has come.

Sages, searching for stars,
Searching for love in heaven;
No place for them but a stable.
My Lord has come.

His love will hold me,
His love will cherish me,
Love will cradle me.

Lead me, lead me to see him,
Sages and shepherds and angels;
No place for me but a stable.
My Lord has come.


The December 20 "Crossing @ Christmas" concert at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Chestnut Hill, PA, began and ended with Will Todd's, "My Lord has come." Words and music together spoke to me in a particular way on that evening in that beautiful place. The poem is my greeting to you this Christmas, and I invite you to give the few minutes it takes to listen to Tenebrae perform it at www.youtube.com/watch?v=3m8ryivqefk.

Merry Christmas!

Alternative Narratives

Author Ursula K. Le Guin in Steering the Craft includes a paragraph about story-writing that offers insight into our world and culture today:

"Modernist manuals of writing often conflate story with conflict. This reductionism reflects a culture that inflates aggression and competition while cultivating ignorance of other behavioral options. No narrative of any complexity can be built on or reduced to a single element. Conflict is one kind of behavior. There are others, equally important in any human life, such as relating, finding, losing, bearing, discovering, parting, changing."

While I think conflict usually is to be found in the seven other kinds of behavior Le Guin mentions (I suspect she'd agree), her thought that story-telling and life-living must always center on aggression and competition often seems at the heart of our personal lives and of each day's headlines.  Can we begin to consider other narratives for everything from family relationships to international politics? Dare we afford not to?

Prophets' Sestina

Aspiring to faithful adventures,

those who embrace the good risk

direct their worn boots

toward arenas where success

is less likely than failure;

they are seized by justice’s challenge.

Not a fantasy challenge

(pixelated virtual adventures,

bold graphically-portrayed failure

requiring no personal cost or risk).

Not for showy display of success,

for fancy, shiny, dress-up boots…

“Thank you. I prefer clean boots.

I will not let the grit of challenge

offered without guarantee of success

set the course of my ventures–

No dusty path that might ask I risk

embarrassment, shame, self, failure.”

But those brave who court failure

(weight of its mud on their boots)

to serve earth’s despised, at risk,

poor, beaten down by challenges

(whose small hopes are painful adventure)–

those brave for the meek’s success

detour their chances of success

to walk with repeated failure;

to hold close the poor through lonely adventures,

to lift the beaten with straps of their own boots.

They accept the challenge

of failing to avoid risk.

Justice-rolling takes long, long risk;

right and good stream toward success.

Justice-doing is a daily challenge

for love and kindness (which never fail).

Walking humbly in righteous boots–

doing what’s required–faith-filled adventure!

Prophets challenge our cheap successes:

“Matters not the risk of failure,

when boots wear thin in just adventure.”