Tribute to Tim Salmon, GCU Hall of Fame

The late Jim Brock once told me the biggest mistake he ever made in coaching at ASU was to not aggressively recruit Tim Salmon. That’s probably one of two things Coach Brock and I ever agree on.

Tim was drafted out of Greenway High School in 1986 by the Atlanta Braves, and fortunately for Canyon, he took our meager scholarship offer, instead of signing with the Braves.

By the time Tim left Canyon, three years later, he owned Canyon career records for Home Runs (51), Runs Batted In (192) and Runs Scored (225). He was second in all time average (.383) and Hits (229). And he was fifth in Games Played, At Bats and Doubles. In 1987 and 1988 he led Canyon to the NAIA World Series finishing fourth and second. To say the very least, based on his Canyon baseball accomplishments alone, Tim more than deserves this award tonight.

But, obviously, the story on Tim continues. In 1989, Tim was drafted in the third round by the Los Angles Angels of Anaheim. His early minor league career was marred by being hit by a pitch that broke his jaw, an injury that would end most player’s career. But, a broken jaw would not stop Tim.

In 1992, Tim was baseball’s Minor League Player of the Year. In 1993, he was selected as the American League Rookie of the Year, the only Angel to ever win the award. In 2001 he was the American League Comeback Player of the Year. In 2002, he was awarded the Hutch Award for his competitive spirit. And in 2002 he led the Angels to their only World Series Championship.

Tim retired after 14 seasons with the same team, a rarity. Tim is the Angel’s career leader in Home Runs (299), walks, slugging percentage and second in RBI’s. He is considered to be the best hitter ever produced by the Angel’s franchise.

Tim’s Major League career certainly adds to the reasons he is being honored tonight. But there is a whole lot more to Tim’s life than baseball.

Tim and his lovely wife Marci, met here at Canyon. Marci told me that she knew Tim was the guy for her when he picked her up for their first date. He was driving the oldest and most delapitated car she had ever seen. But, every time she got in and out of the car he opened the door for her and that won her over. Tim and Marci have four beautiful children, Callie, Jacob and the twins Ryan and Kaitlin.

Tim and Marci have founded the Tim Salmon Foundation for the benefit of needy children. And they are also deeply involved in Neighborhood Ministries.

Grand Canyon has also been the recepient of Tim and Marci’s generosity. They donated the funds for the Tim Salmon Baseball Clubhouse and for scholarships in the College of Business and the College of Education.

Tim, never one to rest on his laurels, went back to school and graduated from Canyon just this past year.

Tim is a man of deep faith. Saint Francis said, “Preach always and when necessary use words.” I see Tim Salmon when I hear that statement.

I want to close with two very brief short stories.

I was privileged to attend the Angels home games in the 2002 World Series. I had some great seats in right field, where Tim played. I went early to all four games. When I arrived for the first game, there was a young man with his son sitting in front of me. He was a chatty guy and before long we were new best friends. He told me these were his dad’s season ticket seats, which he had bought the Angels first season. Every year his dad would take him to Phoenix to watch the Angels in Spring Training. And every year his dad would predict that this would be the year the Angels would win it all. Teary-eyed the young man told me his dad had died the year before. His dad would have been so proud of the Angels and especially Tim who was his favorite player. This young guy told me that the reason he attended church was because of Tim’s witness and lifestyle.

After the Angels won the seventh game, the Angels owner, Mrs. Gene Autry handed the trophy to Tim and he did a victory lap around the field. When he ran by our seats that young guy turned to me with tears streaming down his face, “That’s for my dad,” he told me.

After Tim won the Rookie of Year Award a scout told me I should be out looking for another Tim Salmon. Scouts never were my favorite people. In one of my better moments I told that scout the obvious. Every coach should be so lucky to have one Tim Salmon during their coaching career – but, there’s only one Tim Salmon – and he’s already played for Canyon.

Congratulations Tim – and this is the best compliment I can give you Tim, you are a Canyon guy.

U2 in Arizona

Thanks to my children I was privileged to experience the U2 360 Tour. Okay, U2 may be on the cusp of an aging band, but they still can get 60,000 people to sing along for two hours, standing a lot of the time.

One critic asked if U2 had moved from a band with a cause to cause with a band. Bono spoke with courage to an Arizona crowd, encouraging them to be the best part of America and support the poor in Africa and around the world. I pray many listened to more than just the music.

It was, for the most part, an intergenerational crowd, not something you experience at many concerts. The appeal of U2 across generations is the hope for possible change that not only Bono, but many in that crowd, pray to see in their lifetime.

One of my friends was privileged to be on the stage in one of the final numbers. She represents ONE, as a participate and as a leader in the Church, she represents some of our best efforts. Thanks to ONE and U2 for their efforts on behalf of the needy. Something considering supporting.

Great music - most worthwhile cause - profound experience - and the best part was I experienced it with my family.

Open letter to DBACKS manager

This is an open letter to the manager of the Arizona Diamondbacks, A.J. Hinch.

Dear Skip (I use that term because that is what the players are supposed to call you, however, I wonder if yours do. Of course some of the young players on the Dodgers call manager Joe Torre, “Mr. Torre.” I’m pretty confident your players don’t call you Mr. Hinch.)

You were quoted in the Arizona Republic on October 5, 2009 that you have two weaknesses you want to work on during the off-season. First, you feel you need to work on manager-player relationships. Second, you recognize you need to improve your in-game decision-making. It is very commendable that you would be so transparent. I would love to be a fly on the wall when your players read those quotes. While your relationships with the players have been well hid from the public, your in-game decision making, well, has been hanging out there for all of us to see.

When you took over the Diamondbacks they were in fourth place and the Rockies were trailing the Dbacks in last. Shortly after the Dbacks turned their team over to you, the Rockies also made a change. Yesterday, at the end of the regular season, I couldn’t help but notice that the Dbacks finished in dead last. The Rockies, on the other hand, who hired a seasoned manager in Jim Tracy (who spent 13 years managing in the minor leagues before taking a major league job), are in the playoffs. That speaks enough of your lack of in-game decision-making. For your information, of course, I realize you have never even managed a Little League game, but in-game decision-making is also known as making managerial moves.

Interestingly enough, Sunday, in the same newspaper, Hall of Fame second baseman Ryan Sandburg was quoted as saying that he has aspirations of managing in the Big Leagues. Of course, he has spent the last three years successfully managing in the Cubs minor league system. My hunch is when he does get the chance to manage, he will be prepared in areas such as manager-player relationships and managerial moves, sorry, in-game decision making.

Here’s a suggestion for you. Instead of making us watch you slog through another season of learning on the job while we pay a lot of money to watch you do what you should have learned at a lower lever, why don’t you volunteer to manage in the Arizona Fall League. A lot of your colleagues honed their skills there first.

I realize you did not hire yourself. But, now that you have the job, and you realize that you have deficiencies, do something about it besides spending the winter playing X-Box baseball with your best friend and general manager buddy.

Secular mets sacred

Today, for me, the secular met the sacred. I was called to jury duty and for the first time since being a priest I was called to a jury panel. The judge and the lawyers asked a battery of questions determined to allow anyone who might be prejudice in the case to recuse themselves.

Despite the fact that the defendant was an undocumented immigrant and despite the concerns regarding the use of force, I thought I could rise above all those questions and serve my civic duty.

Then the question was asked if anyone, who for religious reasons, felt they could not be a judge of someones actions - I had to raise my hand. At that point, all of my internal bias' came to the surface and I had to admit that, I indeed, have reason to be prejudice in this case. The judge released me from my duty this day.

I wanted to believe that even given the circumstances and allegations, I could be objective - I had to be honest, because of my own personal convictions, I could not. I wonder what I'll learn about myself tomorrow.

Lutherans

Congratulations to the ELCA for their willingness to allow congregations to choose ministers or lay leaders who may be in "lifelong, monogamous, same-gender relationships." Episcopalians are in communion with the ELCA and now we are in solidarity with their wisdom.

In response to their action, the President of Fuller Theological Seminary, Dr. Richard Mouw, said, "For those of us who have opposed this on biblical grounds, it is bound to reinforce the sense that we are no longer welcome in the mainline."

What? Because the Lutherans and the Episcopalians want to be inclusive that means that in reality they are exclusive? Dr. Mouw, you are the one who is a Calvinist. By the very nature of your theology you are exclusionary and suggest that the non-elect are hopeless and while they are welcome to hang around the door, they are without the hope of ever getting in. Okay, I know you hedge your Calvinism with what you call common grace, but when all is said and done, you are a Calvinist.

I have heard this argument recently from a colleague in the Episcopal Church - he said virtually the same thing - meaning, because the Church, and I, don't agree with him, thereby the Church, and I, are not making room for him. I apologize, but I don't understand. How can inclusive be exclusion?

I wonder?

Woodstock

This is one of those blog entries I have told myself all morning not to write - I know I am going to regret this - but, I guess that's never stopped from doing things before, now has it?

Last night I watched my copy of Woodstock. Unfortunately, I can't recapture my youth, but hey, at least once in awhile, especially on anniversary events, I can relive it for a few hours.

No, I didn't go to the Woodstock Music Festival. I would have if we lived anywhere near there - but, alas, we lived in Phoenix, I was fifteen in 1969. The documentary was released the next year. I had just gotten my driver's license. Good thing the ticket teller didn't ask me for my ID to get into the "R" rated movie - they did those things back then.

I was transfixed. Three hours, only broken by the interfuckingmission. The music gave shape to my inner life - because my outer life was being pounded into form by church and sports. None of those hammers had matching rhythms. The expected outcomes of each was dramatically out of tune. What to do? Live different lives and don't let anyone see the inner world. Worked for awhile, well sort of, actually not really.

Oddly enough, as I watched the film last night it dawned on me that my incarnational spirituality was being played out before me on the screen. No matter how hard the external pounding, the inner vibrations eventually will ooze out. Mystical experiences need no words - sometimes though, it helps to having something to dance to.

Discernment

I’ve had the joy of walking in Ireland from Dublin to Kildare, a pilgrimage of about 120 miles. The second day of our journey we walked almost sixteen miles. Six miles of that was spent walking across White Hill in a blinding rainstorm and a sixty-mile an hour wind. One of our fellow pilgrims suffered from severe blisters and we had to travel at a very slow pace, ensuring that person wouldn’t get left behind.
On the third day we headed to Glendalough, about a seven miles up and down through the Wicklow Mountains. The rain was steady and hard that day, even for the Irish. The day before our map had gotten trashed in the downpour across White Hill. Without a good map, well, at one point we were pretty sure we were lost.
One of the many things I learned on our pilgrimage was, before you think you’re really lost, stop and ask directions. Its one thing to be driving around in a car and be lost and unwilling to ask for directions, it’s quite another to be walking and carrying a forty-pound pack. You don’t want to go a mile out of your way because that means you’ve really gone two miles out of your way because you have to turn around and go back.
While walking lost we came across a couple sitting by the side of the trail having a cup of tea. They both had packs so we figured they were fellow pilgrims. I asked them if they were walking the Wicklow Way.
“Ah,” the man said.
“We are walking the Way as well, but I think we’re lost,” I told him.
“Where are you coming from?” he asked.
“From Roundtree.”
“Well you’re going in the wrong direction,” he said.
“Ok,” I said.
He said, “Where’s your map laddy.”
I pulled out our map. It was a useless wad of soaked paper. The lines bled together in an indistinguishable mess.
“That’s not a map laddy,” he reached in his bag, “this is a map.”
He produced a detailed topographical map sealed in zip lock bag. He proceeded to tell us we were walking in the wrong direction, though somehow we had actually made it the correct turnoff point in the trail. Oh, one small point, we had walked about two miles past the turnoff point. On his map he showed us where we should have turned and what we should look for. We thanked him and started to walk back down the road we had just come.
“Laddies, we’ll walk with you a ways, just to make sure.” He said.
He and his partner walked the next two miles with us explaining in detail how to make our way to Glendalough. I have no idea how far we would have walked out of our way if those two people had not helped us.

At the end of the Gospel of Luke we hear the story of two of Jesus’ disciples walking the seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Jesus has been crucified and buried. On the third day some of the women disciples went to the tomb and found it empty. These two disciples had left Jerusalem and were on their way to Emmaus.
They were filled with grief. Their beloved rabbi is dead and now his body is gone.
A stranger joins them on their walk. He asks them why they are so sad. Shocked, they ask if he is the only person in Jerusalem who had not heard about the tragic slaying of Jesus.
While waking along side these two disciples the stranger begins to share the scripture of the promised Messiah.
Eventually, the three travelers arrive in Emmaus and the stranger bids them farewell and starts to walk on his way. But the disciples implore to spend the night with them. The stranger relents and joins them for an evening meal.
As the three sit at their table the stranger takes bread, blesses it, breaks the bread and shares it with his friends. The scripture says their opens were opened to see Jesus Christ in the breaking of the bread.
The scripture tells us that immediately they left Emmaus and returned to Jerusalem to witness to their friends what they had heard and seen.
As Episcopalians this is our three-part story. We walk together sharing in the Liturgy of the Word, trying to gain a deeper understanding of the scriptures. We gather around the Liturgy of the Table. We take the bread, bless the bread, break the bread and we share the bread, expecting that Christ will be revealed in the Holy Eucharist. Then we are sent into the world by the Deacon to be witnesses to what we have heard and what we have experienced.
We do not walk this road alone. We cannot hear nor understand the word outside of community. We break the bread in community and communion because that is where Christ is revealed to us. And together we are witnesses to the world of the sacrament of the Word and the Table.
This lifetime pilgrimage of Word, Table and witness is also a lifetime of discernment. Discernment is done in community with the community.
Discernment is the process of hearing the Word as it is revealed in the lives of the community. We listen deeply to our own Emmaus stories. We are vulnerable in sharing these stories because we know that we are safe as we gather around the mystery of the Table. It is in the community of discernment that we can hear what the Spirit is saying.
The process of discernment is the gift we have to offer. We walk along side one another, listening to the word, sharing our stories, praying for the Spirit to point each of us in the right direction. It’s not an easy process. It takes humility, vulnerability and a willingness to listen to what the Spirit is saying.
Discernment communities that are listening to the Spirit will be transformed collectively as well as individually. The community of St. Augustine’s and the Episcopal Campus Ministry at ASU also known as St. Brigid's Community consider one of our gifts to be that of discernment. In less than three years we have had eleven discernment committees. Listening to the Holy Spirit in community forms the community.
It’s not an easy pilgrimage. Answers are sometimes “yes,” or “no,” or “not yet” or “we are uncertain.” Yet, the Spirit continues to provide a safe environment to walk along side one another. We continue to share our Emmaus stories, breaking bread together and witnessing to others what Christ has revealed to us.
I encourage you as you continue the life long process of discernment to ask questions we are often afraid to ask. If we don’t ask the tough questions we may find ourselves walking miles out of the way to discover the path. I encourage you to walk along side one another especially those whom you may not know very well. These are the ones who you may help the most. I encourage you to be vulnerable enough to share your rain-drenched maps with one another. Someone else may have the map you are looking for. I encourage you to walk the pilgrimage of discernment because if you don’t take the risk for sure you’ll never find your way.
Finally, I encourage you to walk side by side, listening to the Word, breaking the bread together and to be witnesses to what you have seen and heard in community.

After sermon writing ramblings

Do I really have to tell people to not shake hands at the sharing of the peace? Do you think Jesus used hand sanitizer before feeding the 5000 or before breaking bread at his last meal?

"I have guarded myself more carefully against contented people than against contagious diseases." Victoria Wolff (quoted from The Sun magazine)

I wonder if Jesus would want to be confirmed as an Episcopalian? Or be ordained as a deacon or a priest? What would his discernment committee say? Would his vestry approve his request? Would the parish support him financially at seminary? Would his homiletics professor approve of his preaching style? I guess he did have the gift of gathering, but was he entrepreneurial enough?

After sermon writing ramblings -

Neo-monastic community

In a recent Christian Century issue, Holy Nativity, an Episcopal Church in Los Angeles was featured by writer Amy Frykholm. "Church as Hosting Community" offered some very thoughtful ideas for consideration.

Episcopal priest, Peter Rood has worked at offering as many entry points in their neo-monastic community as possible. "Church is a place where people should be able to pursue religious paths that have meaning for them personally. Doctrinal agreement is not an issue. Rood says that he does not worry who will stay, for how long or for what. Membership he regards as largely an outdated concept."

Rood is using the model of a monastery for the parish. Hospitality is the main function of Holy Nativity. Everyone brings a gift he says and he hopes everyone takes a gift with them.

The parish has a community garden, offers cooking classes, has a jazz mass with young musicians, and teaches classes on meditation. His goal is to "provide a place of hospitality and discernment."

The neo-monastic model is unique to its location, what is possible in Los Angeles is a challenge for Tempe - but what is authentic to Tempe would be dis-ingenuous to anywhere in California. The important thing about the neo-monastic model is to find ways for each community to to make a gift, an offering, to the community in which they live and hope to serve out the calling of the community.

I am encouraged by Peter Rood and Holy Nativity. To hear that the community of God is being nourished and is growing around Benedictine precepts in the confines of parish life is inspiring.

Too often our specific communities have been given a discouraging message, one which offers little hope, in other words, the ship of the Episcopal Church is sinking. Even our own General Convention is spending time looking at Emergent models in hopes of finding a way of survival.

Rood may have the best answer - look at our past as our strength. Episcopal Church stop wringing your hands and instead put them together to pray and work, like the monks in LA.

Transitions

Transitions are often scary. We are leaving one space, often comfortable if only because we know our way to the places we need to go. While we are going to a place where we might have trouble discovering the things very critical to our survival, like the el bano.

The frightening place though I think is the liminal space, the place of transition, that often holds me back. Those are the places that scare me. Several of my good friends are in those transitional places, the place in between the old and the new. Each has willingly taken the risk to go beyond what was to move into the what could be. These are inspirational people.

My grandfather was a truck driver most of his adult life. While working he traveled the main highways, trying to make good time. Time meant money and he needed it to care for his family.

But when my grandfather was not driving his truck he always took the back roads, the roads that took him through small towns with tiny cafes. He knew the dinner with the best lunch, the one with the blackest coffee and the little six seat pie shop with the sweetest apple pie in the county. It seemed we traveled for the sake of eating. Of course, as I grew older I realized he stopped at those places because of the people who he knew who lived in the area or worked in the cafe. We traveled for the sake of fellowship and community.

We traveled a lot of miles together, always in transition, going from one place to another - the best part though was being in the in between places, that was where my grandfather told me the stories of his life. Without the linimal spaces, I wouldn't know my grandfather or our family history.

To my many friends in transition, my prayers are with you - prayers that you may find your stories somewhere in the in between space.

Being present

A few of us from our campus ministry group had a border emersion experience this past week. On Tuesday we drove to Douglas and participated in the weekly prayer vigil, remembering the over 300 people that have died in Cochise County since 2000 trying to cross the border into the US.

As we walk along a mile stretch leading up to the border each person holds up a cross, speaks the name of the deceased and says “presente” or you are present and we remember you. As the line of persons praying walks by you lay your cross on the curb and continue walking to the border repeating the names until all the crosses line the street. At the border Pastor Marc Adams, the Presbyterian border missioner, led the devotion. The hour-long vigil is a moving experience.

That night we had dinner with four migrants at the Catholic Church in Aqua Prieta. The parishioners from the Church cook a meal every night for whoever shows up. If the people need a place to spend the night the church has beds set up for them.

We listened to these men’s stories. They were simply looking for work. Hoping to find some way of taking care of their family. They had heard that they could pick tomatoes near Aqua Prieta. One man had ridden his bike over 3500 hundred kilometers in 59 days hoping to find work. Their stories were filled with compassion and pain. All they wanted was to be treated with some dignity by being given a chance to work. They weren’t looking for any handouts. They don’t need anyone to take care of them. They just want to work.

On Wednesday we traveled across the border again into Aqua Prieta where we visited two projects that are designed to give people in Mexico a chance to control their own destinies and to stay in Mexico.

“Café Justo” or Just Coffee is an agricultural cooperative of farmers from Chiapas in southern Mexico. Once the coffee beans are harvested they are shipped to Aqua Prieta where Café Justo roasts the coffee, packages it and then ships to customers in the US. The five-year old project is a success because the middleman is eliminated and the farmers are paid a fair price for their coffee. Everyone benefits.

For lunch we visited PermaCulture, the vision of founder Jose Gonzalez. We ate the best chili reinos I’ve ever tasted. The homegrown chilies were stuffed with chiuaua (Chihuahua), Mennonite cheese. The flavor was earthy and rich. The only thing that could have made the meal better was a cold bottle of Dos XX. We had to settle for soda instead.

Jose shared his vision of creating a place where people could grow their own vegetables; do wood working, do marketable sewing, and other creative crafts. His vision is to teach people to be self-sustaining. His vision is to change the culture of poor that live in Aqua Prieta.

Jose spoke through our interpreter. We needed the interpreter not Jose. He understood what we said and knew much more English than the four of us knew Spanish. But I didn’t need the interpreter to be swept up in the charisma of this man vision. Jose was fully present to us as he communicated more than a dream or a hope – he was glowing with vision.

It was in this moment that I got of glimpse of my relationship with God. I pray that God hears me and knows what I say. I pray for the confidence to trust that God hears me. But I struggle with hearing and understanding the words of God. However, the vision of God is communicated by the power of God’s presence. For a moment, God was present, communicating a new vision to me.

When I hear the gospel of John this morning I am struck how the work of resurrection seems impossible for the world to understand. The work of resurrection, the rebuilding of the Temple that the world has torn down, is so hard. It has taken the community 46 years and they still haven’t finished with the Temple. Jesus statement that he will rebuild, resurrect, the Temple in three days seems preposterous.

But the vision of God always seems outlandish – totally impossible. The work of resurrection is a vision for rebuilding the lives of the suffering. That’s what Jesus is showing us – resurrection work, a rebuilding of the dignity of human life is always possible – even in the face of disbelief. That’s Jose’s vision as well.

Taking the suffering world off the cross of despair and offering them hope – that is the work of resurrection.

Sometimes when I start thinking about the big issues of the world, like immigration, I get overwhelmed, almost frozen. I ask myself, what can I possibly do to solve this problem? But then I remember the words of Jesus, feed the hungry and clothe the naked.

So, our group took jeans, shoes, jackets, socks, medical supplies and money to the migrant center in Naco. And these items of mercy were being given to men sitting at the center hoping and praying to find their sister. Instead of being deported, she was randomly chosen and arrested, awaiting prosecution. The men hoped against hope that she would be deported. But, they had no idea.

I believe we are called to join Jesus in resurrection work – rebuilding the community – one pair of jeans, one bottle of water, one can of food, and one handshake at a time.

The demon of fear

My heart is breaking over the destructive slashes to our universities, public education and services to the poor. Our State legislature is acting out of fear. They are afraid to raise your taxes because they are afraid you want re-elect them and if you don't re-elect them they are afraid someone else will be in control - the biggest fear of all, losing control.

And what has their fear driven them to do - when they gutted education and social services - they have given more money to Sheriff Joe? Why? Because they are afraid - or they think you are afraid - actually they think you will love them because the toughest sheriff still lurking the earth is so popular - more votes.

Stop the cycle of fear! Call your representatives and cast out the demon of fear - or at least those in power. And pray for Sheriff Joe; I don't know what else to do.

The special day of inspiration

Thankfully today has been a day that many of us can proclaim that we are proud to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, including our country. President Obama's inauguration speech caused us to pause, reflect, re-commit and dedicate ourselves to the common good.

This is also a day to remember those who have displayed courage in the face of oppression and great opposition - and while I could recall historic moments and defining characters, all that has meaning to me is those who have personally touch my life.

Clyde Cunningham's family was the first African-Americans to live on the block. Clyde was straight forward, kind, gentle, at times unsure, and always a friend.

Dick Davis, from Compton "crime capital of the world" he always said, taught me that different backgrounds, families and cultures meant nothing when as teenage
professional baseball players we talked about the fear of failure and the expectations to excel.

John Shumate, former Notre Dame and Phoenix Sun star, came to Grand Canyon University as its first African-American coach and in spite of outright racism thrust his way, he stayed true to himself and his players. He taught us all that courage means being honest.

Leighten McCray, the next African-American basketball coach at GCU, taught me that taking risk on your players entrusted them to their own obligations.

Dr. Barbara Dickerson continues to hold education as the most meaningful way to teach us to love one another in a common goal.

Janet Beason and John Saunders have taught me that the Church is the place where we gather to worship the God who loves us as one.

Judith Conley has taught me it takes continued courage in the twenty-first century because, sadly, racism still exists in our world, country, state and town. She and her husband are truly strong and inspiring people.

Mr. President you have my daily prayers, support and admiration. May God be Present to you in a way that you know God's power throughout each day. Thank you for your courage and inspiration.

Community supports those in need

Thanks to all who supported St. Brigid's Community in the collecting of food and clothing for the homeless today, the celebration of Martin Luther King's life. St. Brigid's Community collected over 1000 pounds of food and nearly 500 pounds of clothes. That's a hell of lot of clothes and food that will go to care for those in need. The majority of the items will go either IHELP, the Tempe Interfaith group to which we belong that feeds and houses the homeless or to St. Matthew's Crossing that provides food for those in need. Some food also will be distributed by St. Augustine's for those who come to our door daily seeking assistance.

Blessings to all who volunteered and all who donated. Truly we have come together to form community and to serve the community.

Sticking it out

Congratulations to the Arizona Cardinals for winning the NFC and heading to the Super Bowl! Wow, just plain awesome. The best part is to watch the tears of the players who have suffered through the really bad years and now can enjoy along with young and new players the bliss of hard fought victory against many odds.

And to the fans, especially Chris and Eddie, you guys have been there with the Cardinals from the beginning. You have suffered with your team and you have never given up on them. You deserve to be honored along with the team. To the Bidwells you have endured. And to the City of Glendale, you deserve congratulations for your risk and sacrifice - thanks for bringing something so awesome to the great West Valley.

Why? Ok I know the answer I guess

Rick Warren has formed "solidarity" with dissident Episcopal parishes

http://www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_104218_ENG_HTM.htm

Why? OK, I guess I know the answer, it's apparent that he's homophobic and must be a Biblical literalist - of course he is a Southern Baptist, something he doesn't publicize, but that's the world he lives in - too bad President-elect Obama didn't invite Bishop Gene Robinson and Rick Warren to pray on the same podium. Curious question, I wonder if Warren would have been willing to pray on the same platform with the Bishop? I doubt it.

Well, I stand in solidarity with our sisters and brothers who are denied access to the Lord's Table in Rick Warren's church and that of the parishes who have chosen to walk apart from the Episcopal Church who include and provide open access to the Church to all who will walk the Way and even those who know nothing of the Way. Rick Warren is welcomed to the Lord Table's in our community - would our brothers and sisters be in his?

Clouds

Spent the last few days in Seattle with our daughter and her fiance. It's been a wonderful experience. The laughter, food, and friendship has been heartening.

The weather has been normal for Seattle, cloudy, rainy and windy - pretty normal stuff; except that being from the Valley of Sun where you can't get away from the sun - this is awesome. Most people talk about how depressing it is to live without seeing the sun and I'm sure that's the case. But try living where the sun hunts you down everyday, all day, never a relief from the heat and bright light, like living in Alaska in the summer of the midnight sun - life without darkness, yes, life without clouds can alter the mood of the soul in an equally troubling way as a life without the shining sun. Why? Not sure. Variety, I would guess is needed on every pilgrimage.

And of course, the weather here reminds me of Ireland, the 40 shades of green. I took a long walk yesterday and was transported to my walk across Ireland, gotta do that again soon. I find that soulful sacred places, for me anyway, are often those that include cloud, rain and good pubs (found some in Seattle).

Traveling soul-scape blessed nurture found resting in this body's need for cool relief.

The Religious Case for Gay Marriage

Since we're on the subject, have you read the cover story for Newsweek December 15? "The Religious Case for Gay Marriage: Our Mutual Joy" by Lisa Miller is an excellent and well written essay by someone who has obviously done quiet a bit of research. She writes from a liberated biblical perspective that is refreshing. Without condemning those who disagree with her, she makes a case for gay marriage, one that is informative, respectful and worthy of study.

She covers the issues of Hebrew context, polygamy, Levitical law, David and Jonathan, Jesus' near silence on marriage and divorce and his being single as well as Paul's single status. She give fair treatment of Paul's mis-interpreted statement on homosexuality.

Miller quotes biblical scholars, both Jew and Christian, all well known. Some are delightfully surprising. Including Walter Brueggemann, who I pray is trying to convince Stanley Hauerwas to reconsider his strange stance on gay marriage.

My prayer is that the Diocese of Arizona of which I am affiliated will make its work intentional towards the blessing of same sex unions and though we live in a State that has a double indictment against gay marriage we will as clergy offer a deep and abiding support for our gay and lesbians couples who desire God's blessing in the Church.

Final authority, unchangeable standard

I cringed when I read that the conservative Anglican leaders calling themselves the Common Cause Partnership included in their new organization's constitution the line about the Bible being the "final authority and unchangeable standard."

It seems very apparent that this new group seeking recognition from the World Wide Anglican Communion is going to make a lot of changes in their life style. Or maybe they haven't read Deuteronomy and Leviticus as closely as they would have us believe? And maybe they have intentions of declaring their embracing of slavery, of course that would make sense being they intend to enslave women and the gay community, or at least stop them from going passed the the altar rail, which, in my humble opinion is the same as enslavement. Or possibly some of them wish to resign their own positions of leadership being they have been married to more than one wife, or are they going to ignore Jesus' words about divorce? Of course then the Bible wouldn't really be the final authority or the unchangeable standard, would it?

I wonder, is the Bible the final authority and unchangeable standard, or is God? Who or what is being worshiped, God or the Bible? And where is the Holy Spirit, the Living God? Hmm?

Great Grace

It was ninety miles from the chapel to the cemetery. The ride was a reflection on the memories and stories of Gracie Lee Kellett Moss. Her ninety-six year life was a fulfillment of her name. She extended grace to everyone she met.

She was momma to two daughters, and either auntie or granny to the rest of the world. She adopted family, friend and stranger alike. Gracie was the consummate host. All who claim to be hospitable have to measure to her standard. She knew no stranger and never turned anyone away from her door.

Gracie was the epitome of the Good Shepherd she modeled her life after. She didn’t try to lead anyone instead she walked along behind the flock, ensuring that all the sheep had the opportunity to be safe. When someone from the flock strayed she would go after them, usually with a visit or a phone call. She never scolded or told them what they should do. Gracie listened and prayed.

Her sister died much too young from cancer leaving a single father with three teenage girls and a young son. Gracie didn’t try to replace her sister as their mother instead she was present for them offering her love, support and care. She couldn’t be their mother but she could be the compassionate and present aunt. Gracie knew how to be the living embodiment of grace to others.

At the service of the celebration of her life songs were sung about her and stories were told of her life. Every song written about her and every story told repeated her life of unconditional love.

Her namesake eight year old great-great-grand daughter Gracie, stood at the end of memorial service and told the large gathering through her tears, “I loved my granny and I will miss her very much.”

We all loved you very much, Aunt Gracie, and we all miss you very much

Please pray for the Brothers at Mount Calvary

Peregrini friends, please pray for the Brothers of the Order of the Holy Cross at Mount Calvary Monastery and Retreat House. The monastery was destroyed in the Monteceto fire last night. All the Brothers were evacuated to safety. They need our prayers as they deal with the immediate situation and as the days go forward. Some of you have been to this beautiful house of prayer and know that I am an Associate of the Order.

Attached in an article written by the Rev. Nicholas Knisley of our Cathedral here in Phoenix.

http://www.episcopalcafe.com/lead/news_reports/holy_cross_retreat_center_dest.html

In the presence of holy friends

This weekend I had the experience of being in the presence of holy friends. It's a sacred trust to gather in community. We shared in the frightening discussion of "What does this one life mean?" The group was vulnerable with one another, willing to share fears, doubts, and the uncertainty of not knowing what's next.

The container for the gathering was prayer. We prayed the Daily Office, the four cycle prayers of the Church, morning, noon, evening and compline. Prayer bathed our tired bodies, eased the tension of meeting new people, comforted those in pain, and reminded us that, if we give ourselves over to the idea, we are a part of something much bigger than our own private world.

We were privileged to be guided by the wise among us - each other. Four voices took the yoke of offering a possibility for conversation, and we responded with our questions and life experiences. A diverse group in some means, too much alike in others. Yet from our own milepost of life we were able to shine some light on the path for our fellow pilgrims.

Peregrini - the pilgrims way, it is a lifestyle, done best in community. Thank you friends for sharing a resting space with me. May our paths find us gathered again soon.

Number 44

Henry Aaron wore number 44 with pride and integrity - breaking Babe Ruth's homerun record despite threats against his life - and on this historic night, the 44th President of the United States is an African American - I am proud to be alive to witness a change in the very fiber of the life of this country. It was a privilege of mine to be on the same team as Henry Aaron in spring training with the Milwaukee Brewers and I am in tears to witness this particular moment in history and to feel some connection in supporting Barack Obama as President of the United States of America.

Working the Polls for Education

I'm heading out to distribute materials at a polling place on behalf of the local school district. The district needs an override election to pass in order to provide much needed support services for the children. I noticed there are override elections in almost every school district. These overrides rarely raise taxes and when they do its typically so small is goes unnoticed by most homeowners and businesses.

Public education is one of the wonderful opportunities this country offers its citizens. Most of us are products of public education. My parents were public school teachers, my wife is an administrator for a public school district, I taught public school, my son and daughter in law work in public schools, both our children were educated in public schools and many of our friends work in public schools; Laura, Jillian, Erin, Rebecca, Alicia, actually the list is countless.

If you can, support your local public schools and consider voting to pass their override elections.

I learned everything I know about God from my retarded sister

I walked half way across Ireland looking for God. Through driving rain, down forgotten trails, across centuries old pilgrim’s paths, I searched to fill an ache in my heart to discover something, anything about God.

At a pilgrims rest I encountered a dubiously curious holy man. “What are you doing here?” His poetic voice and pointed question pushed back my tired soul causing my eyes to come up for air.

“Uh, I’m on a pilgrimage.” When I said the words in his presence it sounded more like I was trying to steal a holy relic instead of discovering something about the mystical unseen.

“Humph,” he softly snorted. His crackling blue eyes pierced into my soul, “You wouldn’t be insultin’ God by lookin’, now would ya?”

Admittedly, I have spent the best part of my life searching for an intellectual encounter with the holy. At holy wells I prayed to see the water stir. Listening to great teachers, I yearned for “the” word that offered proof. Practicing spiritual disciplines in hopes for a revelation, a word, a punctuation mark, all have left me feeling unfulfilled.

Yet, in all my travels and personal efforts the only experience of a revealing encounter with the holy has been in the presence of my little sister. My sister is wise. She’s also strangely weird, a little nuts, often somewhat silly, and frankly, retarded. In PC-ese she’s special, challenged, mentally and physically handicapped. Technically she has Prader-Willi Syndrome (PWS).

My baby sister dances with God. For some reason unbeknown to me, I get to watch. Her name is Dinah. It reminds me she was named after a biblical character. Well, that’s not true. My mom named her after Dinah Shore. But it would have been really cool if she were named after the Dinah in the Bible. Maybe Dinah Shore was named after the biblical character?

Though my sister has this public relationship with God I doubt seriously if she thinks that much about God. But, when she does, when she communicates that encounter, it’s like a waltz. Her moments with God have nothing to do with her being Prader-Willi, it’s just the way she “lives, moves and has her being” through the world. In a sense her intimacy with God is as visible as her daily encounter with the rest of us.

Dinah has these little koans, cloudy windows into her hidden world. She’s like a druid priestess reciting rituals from another world. She often says, “I not not know.” When I ask her what she thinks about God she says, “I not not know.” I mean really, I could say the same thing. What do I know about God? Nothing. I could say, well the Bible says, or this guy I heard said, or my mom said, but what do I know? Nothing. What do I really honestly know, intellectually know about God? Nothing, nothing, as in “I not not know.” Of course she says that about a lot of other things too, but that’s her being genuinely honest. I wish I were that forthright. Especially when someone asks me questions assuming I know the magical answer. I think I’ll start telling them, “I not not know?”

As in, “Gil, why do shitty things happen?” Well, I not not know. That sounds better than some dreamt up theological bullshit. Doesn’t it?

PWS is attributed to the deformity of chromosome-15. It’s random. No one knows why it happens. It was identified in 1956, the year after my sister was born, by Andrea Prader and Heinrich Willi. Characteristically, Prader-Willi’s are hyperphagia among other things. Hyperphagia? Technically that means they eat too much. On the PWS website they sell refrigerate locks, that ought to tell you something. They sneak food. Steal food. Dig it out of trashcans. And then they hide it like an alcoholic stuffing bottles in little secret drawers everywhere in the house.

When we were preteens my sister would eat two or three loaves of bread in the middle of the night. At first my parents thought I was eating all that bread. I was a growing boy so I must have been downing the midnight snacks. One night my dad stumbled into the bathroom only to find my sister stuffing herself with an entire pie. As a result of their eating disorder, PWS people become obese as children. Many of them die in their twenty’s from related obesity issues. The average PWS dies at the age of 32. The oldest survivor was 64. Today my sister is 53.

PWS also have anger outbursts. Their outbursts are a rage that is wildly unrestrained. It’s like road rage on steroids. Typically the anger is directed at themselves. On occasion Dinah has ripped off her clothes and marched down the street screaming. Dinah has broken and destroyed more of her own beloved possessions than I can remember. Obviously, the outbursts add to the stress of the individual and their families. Dinah has taken several forms of psychotropic drugs, which help in some cases. She calls them her “weird pills.”

Her relationship with God isn’t a result of the drugs she takes. She’s always lived in that thin place with God between this world and the next. Dinah’s interchange with God apparently is real and fully functional.

We were on a walk in a mountainous area of Arizona. It was a summer day when the clouds were rolling in and rain was threatening. A dark clouded thunderstorm signaled a downpour was a few minutes off. The sound of thunder was crackling through the trees causing us to jump with every demonstrative bone rattling snap. In fear we were walking as fast as we could to get back to our cabin.

Out of breath and still a ways from the cabin, Dinah stopped. She glared up at the sky. “God,” she hollered out. “Dat enough.” She waited as if God would say, “Oops, I’m sorry about that,” and stop the storm. Instead another rattle of thunder roared through the trees. Dinah shrugged her shoulders and smirked as if to say, “Well, I said my peace that’s all I can do.”

Ok, I get it, or think I do. I can say whatever I want to God, just realizing God’s not Santa Claus and everything’s not going to work out just like I want it to. In fact God may not be in control of the thunder and lightening. Still, I can say my peace. That’s good enough. Then I can go on and keep walking. At least that’s what Dinah does.

Adding to Dinah’s genetic complications she had a temperature of 108 degrees during the first week of her life. Yes, you are right, my sister should have died a long, long time ago. The speech area of Dinah’s brain was affected most by the life threatening temperature. Consequently, she has about 25 words the average person can understand. She also has about another 25 or so words and signs that she uses to communicate with her family and closest friends.

When she and I were little guys there was Dairy Queen near our house. My parent’s drove us past the Dairy Queen each week on our way to and from church. My dad rarely stopped at the Dairy Queen. One day, out of the blue, on our way home Dinah started saying “I Cee,” and curling her index finger up and down. My parents have always worked hard to clue into Dinah’s attempt to communicate. It didn’t take too many times driving by the Dairy Queen with Dinah’s insistent “I Cee,” and wriggling finger for us to discover she was telling us she wanted ice cream. Her finger signal was mimicking the twist on the Dairy Queen sign on top of the building. I was really glad about her persistence because we got ice cream a lot more often after that breakthrough.

I can’t understand what God is trying to tell me. All the clues and the signs in the Bible and the cosmos leave me baffled. As with Dinah, though, I just can’t give up. There’s something about the mystery of it all that lures me into continually straining to hear and to see. I don’t get it very often, but the few times I do break code the intensity is revealing and worth the effort. Thanks to Dinah I got a lot of chocolate dipped cones. I wonder if God has soft-serve?

Instead of sweet ice cream sometimes life smells like shit. You know, really it does. When an event that smells like a four-day rotten egg invades our life, Dinah will hold her nose and say “keyqankey” Try it. Hold your nose and say, “key-qank-key.” You got it? No? Well, get a pot out of your cupboard. Get a wooden spoon and smack the bottom of that pot with the wooden spoon. That’s qank. Try it again. Hold your nose and say key-qank-key. I defy you to tell me there is a better description of something that smells really bad. I mean it sounds more realistic than saying, “boy that really stinks.”

When life goes south, stinks, really sucks do what Dinah does. Hold your nose and say, “God, keyqankey.” See if you don’t feel like God might be getting the picture a little better. When I pray, it’s all I can do to hope, at the depths of the pit I’m in, that God can smell the same foul order.

There is no excuse for boring and emotionless prayers. Dinah paints a picture for God. The nasal sound she utters lets me and I am pretty confident God, as well, know that the shit that just fell on my head is putrid and disgusting. When she speaks to God her feelings are all she has to speak with and they are undeniable.

Still, more often than not, Dinah is silent. When we go to dinner at her favorite restaurant we spend the evening like most siblings. We talk about our parents. She wants to know how my wife and kids are doing. I ask her about her friends at Art Works. I have learned to be comfortable with her silence. There are times she just wants to be quiet. She draws me into her silence. She has the ability to allow all thoughts to drift away like fragrant incense. She bundles the thoughts and sets them aside for a while. Her silence is restful. I wonder if that’s what it’s like sitting with God? Maybe, at least for me it is, sitting with Dinah is like sitting in the presence of God.

Besides not understanding God I have no idea what to say to God. I struggle trying to get the right words to communicate my feelings, emotions, desires, angst – well, Dinah has taught me to just go for it, do the best I can, just say what I can say and trust God will understand me.

It’s been our tradition at Thanksgiving that my mom asks me to say “a word” and then my dad prays for the blessing of the food. That’s been a standard ritual at our Thanksgiving gatherings for as long as I can remember.

A few years back my mom said she wanted to start a new tradition. Oh God, here we go, change. I like change about as much as the next guy, which means not at all, much less around the treasured holidays. I say a word, my dad says a prayer, we eat, and we watch football. Right? Not, not.

Mom tells us the girls are in charge. Well, I’m ok with that, sort of. My mom has it all lined out. First my daughter reads a poem. That’s good. Then my wife reads something from the Bible. That was ok. So I figure my mom is going to pray. Not, not.

My mom says that Dinah is going to pray. My parents have taken us to church from before memory, but, truthfully, I’ve never heard or seen or even thought about Dinah praying. She has an IQ of 45. Her vocabulary is limited. What is she going to say?

She bows her head. I’m watching her. I can’t bow my head and close my eyes. I have to drink this in, experience every moment. She bows her head as I imagine she’s seen us do before thousands of meals. Now what?

“God!” Here we go again. This time, though, I sensed God was there, present, at attention and listening with attentive ears. God had been summoned. God was paying attention like never before.

“God!” She repeated. There was a long silence. I could tell she was trying to gather up every ounce of intellectual and spiritual energy within her being and soul. Then it gushed forth like champagne from a freshly popped bottle. “I thank.”

Thankfulness? What was Dinah thankful for? Not only had she been dealt a bad hand. Someone had dealt her cards from the wrong deck. While we hope for a straight or a four-of-a-kind, she was playing poker with Old Maid cards. She would never experience many of the things that bring joy to this life. Yet, I heard her say, “I thank you God.” For what?

“God, I thank. Mom, Dad, Gia, Cafu, Nee, Esika…” What came after our names was a flood of emotion from every eye and heart in the room. We were the objects of her prayer and our lives were now the thankful ones. We had been blessed by Dinah’s beckoning of God into our midst. Fixated on my sister, I was pretty sure I had finally seen the face of God.

To me, that must be prayer. Dinah puts it out there. No begging or pleading for rescue from the inconveniences of existence. She didn’t want anything to be magically made better. Nothing to be fixed, or protected or made right, she only offered thanks in what appeared to be the cold absence of the reasons to be thankful.

I’m a very slow learner. It seems I have insulted God by looking for God. It took me two seminary degrees to realize that everything I really know and understand about God has come from my sister. Not from learned teachers, mystics or professors. I’ve read hundreds of books about God, what I’ve gained from them is miniscule in comparison to what I’ve gleaned from Dinah, who can’t read. I’ve been fortunate enough to hear some of this generation’s best thinkers give their finest oratory about the things of God. Every word I’ve read and heard spoken has been filtered through Dinah’s 50 words. The best I can truly say about God is, I not not know.

Veronika Decides to Die

Paulo Coelho is one author that captures a lot of my reading time. His work has significant influence on my thinking and writing.

While at the dentist I was reading The Plague by Albert Camus. The hygienist, who I had not met, came in, introduced herself and promptly asked me what I was reading. She asked me what it was about and I responded "death." She asked me if I was afraid of dying. I told her "no" and asked her the same question. She indicated she was not because she was Buddhist. She wanted to know if I was religious. Hesitantly, I said I was a Christian. Curiously, she wanted to know if I had always been a Christian. At this point knowing she was about to put her hands in my mouth if recognized I didn't have time to share with her my complex string of chaos theory related musing about God, Jesus, Trinitarian incarnational worldview and sacramentalism, and my universalist-like theology so I went for "sort of."

As she cleaned my teeth she asked if I ever read any Coelho. I nodded I had. She quizzed if I had read Veronika Decides to Die. I indicated I had not - being, she said, that I was interested in death, she highly recommended the book. Not wanting to offend someone with a sharp instrument in my mouth I agree to read the book.

Coelho does not disappoint and the hygienist made a good recommendation. But, the story is not about death - its about life and the choices we have about how to live that one solitary life we have been given. As the cover suggests, the story is about redemption. But even deeper it is a story that offers another way, not just a way or the way but another way.

A few ramblings

The Sun is one of my favorite and most read magazines (www.thesunmagazine.org). There is an informative interview with Pramila Jayapal. She is an India-born US citizen, activist and author, working on a project to make Washington, DC a "hate-free zone." The article in the Sun is titled "Without a Country Pramila Jayapal On the Problems Immigrants Face." The interview is personal, concise and packed with important information regarding possible solutions to this complex issue.

Are you going to watch any of the World Series? Yes, it begins tonight. Instead of focusing all your attention on the players, watch the managers. These are two guys who lead from different perspectives and both have great success.

The Phillies manager is Charlie Manuel. He's old school, low-key, shy, unwilling to do interviews or speak in public - he lets his players play the game, simply trying to create an environment where they can shine.

Joe Madden is the Rays skipper. I've known Joe for 30 years. He's a detail guy. A friend of mine described him as librarian. True, Joe reads and studies the game like no one else. He knows the statistics and situation better than anyone. He was one of the key factors in the Angels winning the 2002 WS, he was their bench coach.

Check it out, two differing styles that strive for the same result, creating environments of community.

A very good friend complained that I'm not writing on my blog enough. Sorry about that
I will make an real effort to write no less than once a week. Thanks for your encouragement.

An end to hunger

Is is possible to end worldwide hunger? In our life time? At any time? Jesus said in the first century, "You will always have the poor with you." Well, being poor and being hungry are two different things. Jesus also told the disciples to feed the hungry. And Jesus said when we feed the hungry we are offering food to the hungry.

Today a few hundred bloggers have committed to writing about the Millennium Development Goals - the attempt to end poverty and hunger in our life time. Is it possible? Yes, it is. It is possible if we will all do our little bit.

A friend of mine went to Seattle to visit his friend. While there he met a man who every morning bought two loaves of bread and enough peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. He took those sandwiches to a place where homeless men gathered under a bridge. Each morning for two weeks this man did the same thing. When my friend arrived home he was so moved by this man's actions that he sent him a check for $100 with a note that said, "for your ministry." A week later my friend received an envelope from the sandwich maker returning my friend's check, the attached note said, "Make your own damn sandwiches."

If each of us would make our own damn sandwiches we could make a difference and reduce the hunger of the men living under the bridge in our own neighborhood. Make a difference, make your own damn sandwich today.

The Last out at Yankee Stadium

Trivia question - who recorded the last assist and putout at the last game played at Yankee Stadium? The Yankees played the last game in the House that Ruth built last night (September 21). The answer to the question is first baseman Cody Ransom. Why would I care to know such trivial trivia? Cody Ransom played baseball at Grand Canyon University in 1998, the year we won the Northern Division of the Western Athletic Conference, NCAA Division I.

Cody played shortstop at GCU. He was a gifted college player and a leader on our team. After his senior year he was drafted by the San Francisco Giants. Cody quickly made it to the majors with the Giants. He has played with several major league teams, primarily as a defensive specialist.

Cody graduated from Chandler High School and then played two years at South Mountain Community College. While a sophomore at South Mountain his team suffered a horrible tragedy. Cody was riding in a van where the driver's side front tire blew and the van rolled. Killing two passenger's and severely injuring others. Miraculously Cody and some of the others in the van did not suffer life threatening injuries. To his credit he continued to play and worked hard to achieve his goal of playing professional baseball.

Cody is a fine young man and a credit to his family. The baseball family in Arizona is proud of him and want to congratulate him on being a part of a historical moment. It was fun to watch.

Arizona Together

Prop 102 is the so-called "Marriage Amendment." Here are the reasons I am voting against this Prop.

Marriage - even though it's already defined in state law and even though we voted on this two years ago our legislators are forcing this vote again.

The LDS Church has raised $3 million to support the passing of 102 and the Roman Catholic Bishop of the Diocese of Phoenix sent a mandatory message DVD to be shown at every mass in support of 102. Why?

We already voted on this - don't the politicians get it?

If you read my previous post you will also understand my personal stake in this matter.

Marriage

Two of our dear friends were married a few days ago. We are so happy for them. Disappointingly we could not attend. The wedding was on a Saturday and they live in another State. In fact, they live in only one of two States where they could legally get married. That fact is frustrating.

Our friends have been together 24 years. They love each other. Its obvious, when I see them together, how much they care for each other. They are a match, not to be cliche', made in heaven.

You get it right? May friends are joined in a same sex union. They were married by an Episcopal priest. Because of the abuse they have endured I feel it would be inappropriate and unfair to give you any more information about them. I love them and feel it important to protect them. I also love them and want to tell their story.

My prayer is that one day the world we will live in will not discriminate. I know that's naive, but I'm still going to pray for the peace which passes all understanding. It is also my prayer that sometime soon the bishop of our diocese will allow us to offer the blessing of same sex unions. The Episcopal Church says it is welcome to all. If that is true how can we discriminate against those who seek the table and our blessing for their love?

Phoenix Police Officer Nick Erfle was killed nearly a year ago while making a routine stop. The man he tried to detain turned out to be an undocumented immigrant, illegally in this country.

Officer Erfle's wife, Julie, probably has every right to demand every person illegally in this country be immediately deported. Instead, she has began to speak out calling us to common ground in order to find a "real solution...discussing our fears and concerns in a mutually respectful way."

Recently she was verbally assaulted by KFYI talk-radio personality Bruce Jacobs. He said, "You should be ashamed of yourself...If I were in your family, I would be embarrassed. When the next officer is gunned down...I am going to give you partial blame."

Talk radio is a forum that promotes vitriol. Jacobs is fueling his listeners. So, this is a free country with the freedom of speech. Is it, however, a country without civility towards those who hold different points of view? Obviously.

Nearly the entire Police community, it associations and unions have called for a public and personal apology. Arizona Casino suspended its advertising. Nothing in this world would be lost if Jacobs was fired. However, if the personal attack on Julie Erfle continues what does that say about those who allow it to persist? Nothing good, that's for sure. She deserves more than an apology, she deserves for this community to listen to her. What is wrong with being civil with one another in an attempt to reach a real solution to palpable problem?

Boycott

I’m boycotting the Olympics. Who cares you ask? No one I suppose. It’s just one of those things that is a matter of principle. Not only am I boycotting the Olympics because of China’s lack of respect for human rights but also because of America’s lack of respect for human rights. The President of the United States allowed the U.S. team to compete and he made his presence very known at the games. I do not believe either should have happened. So, I’m doing my own personal boycott by not watching any of the Olympics or reading any news about them.

It is true that my absence from the television and the support of the Olympics is of no consequence. It is however necessary for me to take note. Particularly being the Olympiad originally began with a cessation of all wars for the period of competition. Evidently no one from this country or Russia has paid any attention to anything other than the medal count while the body count in Afghanistan, Iraq and Georgia continue to mount.

It seems amusing that people watch the Olympics anyway. The majority of people who watch the “games” night after night probably wouldn’t show up at a swimming meet, diving competition or even a track meet of any kind. My guess is the vast majority of people watching have no understanding of the competition they are witnessing. They just know somebody wins. Winning, the true American way.

From past experience, the television producers realize this and so they fill the airtime with overly “dramatic” and cheesy commentators and endless human-interest stories. While I have no intention of criticizing the competitors, the “fans,” well, are probably the same people who “vote” for the American Idol.

But, I will admit, for those of you watching, it can be entertaining even if you only watch gymnastics once every four years yet did nothing to help support Arizona State University gymnastics team when it was being axed. Anyway, entertainment, that’s what professional sports like the Olympics is all about and that’s what American’s crave the most.

WALL-E

Don’t fool yourself WALL-E is no kid’s movie. The world has ended and what’s left on Mother Earth is a trash compactor, WALL-E, sorting through our capitalistic junk pile of “a must have it all now” society.

Without speaking a word through the first third of the movie we feel the indictment as WALL-E takes up his daily routine of rebuilding the remains of world overrun by consumption. He flips through the piles left behind on our deserted planet. He saves Christmas lights, cigarette lighters, re—usable WALL-E parts (self preservation you know) and oh yes, an old videotape of Hello, Dolly! What does he do with his compact cubes? Build buildings of course, buildings that are monuments to our financial cathedrals, skyscrapers of trash.

Hard to imagine that our beloved home ends not at the hands of terrorists with WMD, or WWIII or even the results of global warming, no the world ends when covered with our greed, or what’s left of it.

The only legacy to be the witness of humans who once inhabited Earth are the mega-malls of B&L, Buy in Large (quantities) – an obvious swipe at Wal-Mart, Target, Cosco or any other big box store which encourages our massive lust for more and bigger.

And where are we, humans that is? Why we have left the planet on our cruise space ship. We have been floating in space for 700 years. We have lost our ability to walk, to think, and evidently to care. We still consume, so much so, we’ve become infant-like blimps who float from meal to meal, meal in a cup that is, consumed without discrimination. We float around on lounge chairs with our music in our ears and facebook screens no more than six inches from our mug. While in constant communication with one another, we have lost human contact – no touching, much less seeing the person floating next to you.

Above all else, WALL-E is a love story, on several simple and yet complex levels – subtle and well, not so – it is still a movie for children. If you have children, grandchildren, or you have to borrow them, or if you don’t need an excuse to see a G-rated movie – the movie is more than worth the cost of admission.

'Speak Spanish to Me'

'Speak Spanish to Me' is currently running at the Actors Theater, Herberger Theater Center .

Set on the campus of Arizona State University, its the tale of love and coming of age. Liz is a white, liberal, post-modern hippie from Maine. On her first day on campus she meets Frank, a good looking Mexican-American conservative whose dad is a self-made businessman who showers his son with all the money he needs, or doesn't need and sometimes doesn't want. Problem is, Liz thinks Frank is a migrant worker and he does nothing to dissuade her projections. She has fallen in love with her ideals and Frank's flawless Spanish.

As a comedy, the play works. Brittany Schoenborn's portrayal of Liz is on target. She is funny, sensitive, and insecure. Frank's character is played by Marcelino Quinonez. He equally is believable and is easy to connect to. Together they build a story of energy, conflict and they delve lightly into contemporary issues of immigration, racism, and abortion. What also helps is that both are or were ASU students.

There are five other characters in the play, two of which are a female professor and a white wannabe rapper. The characters were shallow and insulting to the play. I'm not even sure they were necessary to the plot in any way - maybe they just took up time and space. Surely the playwright could have found better characters?

Three side characters were played by one man, Richard Trujillo. As Frank's father he hit the mark. In the final scene he is Elvis at the Vegas Wedding Chapel. He was a riot, incredibly funny. The opposite is the case in his portrayal as an Asian doctor. That should have been left out the play. It was really bad besides being insulting. A strange portrayal in a play about race and sterotypes.

If you can get a cheap seat the play is worth it simply because it explores issues confronted by ASU students. The play is a good conversation starter when it comes to difficult issues. Its weakness may have been in not going deeper with those issues, of course it is billed as a comedy and that may be its saving grace.

The Art of Confession

The Art of Confession a novel by Matthew Thomas Baker

Matt's a good friend. He's an artist, thinker, communicator, and writer - those things aren't mutually inherent in one another, which makes Matt unique in that he displays each with great character. They are Matt's gifts and he uses them well in this novel.

The Art of Confession is a story of three young soul's exploring their friendship, love, intimacy, and interior expression. Set in Cambridge and Italy, Philip, Oliver and Silva struggle to discover their individual identity and their collective soul. As Philip said, Oliver spoke in actions, Philip in words and they were languages apart. Silva is the unspoken language between the two.

Matt's story telling skill and image crafting kept me reading quickly through the story. Typically I read at least three books at a time and make each wait its turn, not so with Matt's work. He owned the dance floor with this novel. His writing is subtle, gentle, alluring, passionate and intellectually intriguing.

Whether you personally know Matt or not I think you will find this story a fascinating journey into the life and mind of a young artist and those who seek love and affirmation. This book is well worth the time.

So, Matt, when is your next novel arriving?

Earthy Mysticism

Earthy Mysticism a new book by Tex Sample.

Real. Gusty. Confrontational. Erotic. Tex Sample’s latest book, Earthy Mysticism is God talk and God talks in language that is real, gusty, confrontational and erotic.

Sample has written a collection of personal stories that deal with real dirt under your fingers kind of spirituality. He uses language that you would expect to hear working in the oil fields or driving a taxi. He shares the emotions felt when a son dies in a motorcycle accident. Tex speaks the words shared between two young lovers. This is a book for people who never care to enter church but sense that God is al least worth yelling at.

I took a lot of time reading Tex’s stories, there was a need in my soul to savor them and let them do their work in my life. I cried more than I laughed. Often I found myself looking away, winching, not wanting to go on - like scripture I guess.

I’m not one for recommending books. But this one is worth the time and money. No bullshit.

First Draft

Stunned is the best description of my feeling of having finished the first draft of my novel. It ended. Not necessarily where I thought. Better perhaps? Of course, that’s where the story went, I simply followed it and it ended where it did.

I’ve been working on My Brother is Chasing Me for just over a year. I started writing while at a writer’s workshop at Mt. Calvary Monastery in Santa Barbara. A week ago, sitting at the same desk at Mt. Calvary the story concluded.

Nora Gallagher encouraged me to just let go, to open my soul and write. Interestingly enough my mom told me the same thing about two months ago. Well the first draft is done. Of course Anne Lamont said that we all are entitled to a “shitty first draft.” So I need to get back to working on the second draft.

For the curious this is not a baseball story. It’s a story about a 30-something woman priest and college chaplain. No, it’s not autobiographical. I must admit though that they’re probably a lot of me in several characters. As taught, I must write about what I know. Maybe my next book will be about baseball. Or maybe a college president?

God, the Super Bowl?

Yesterday’s Super Bowl is the first football game I’ve watched in entirety this year. Well, actually I fell asleep somewhere before the end of the first half and woke up to watch the last half of the fourth quarter.

To keep me entertained my wife and I were rating the commercials. I liked the Go Daddy commercial, I guess because Fox banned it. To be a moralistic newspaper The Arizona Republic gave it an “F” this morning.

Anyway, the game wasn’t that interesting, even the ending. The Arizona Republic called the win an upset. Why was that? Simply because the Patriots were undefeated should have tipped everyone off to the reality that they wouldn’t win. Maybe, because football and American nationalism are so intertwined that Americans just can’t imagine the underdog winning? Not sure.

Of course, I was curious about why Fox thought it was important or meaningful or necessary to trot out the Declaration of Independence immediately before the game. What is the connection between the Declaration and the Super Bowl? Every woman who chose to watch the game should have been offended that only Pat Tillman’s wife was a reader. Women who were forced to watch, well, enough said about that. Only white and African-American males were represented – oh, you say they only had coaches and players represented – maybe that says something too? I was surprised Fox didn’t role their King out there but I guess his ratings aren’t doing too good right now?

I watched the post game interviews just to see how long it would take someone to thank God for winning (or for a good performance or something like it). It took the first guy his second sentence. I quit watching at that point. Does anyone really think God cares enough to help you win a game?

The Busy World is Hushed

A woman Episcopal priest, a gay assitant, a gay son, death and dying, conflict, self-discovery, all are central to Kenneth Bunin's "A Busy World is Hushed." The Episcopal Church and its via media theology is a perfect setting to allow the characters in Bunin's play to explore their complex relationships.

Hannah is an Episcopal priest, biblical scholar, seminary professor and Thomas' mother. Before Thomas was born his father committed suicide. Thomas is a wonderer who has meandered in and out of contact with his mom - their relationship is strained because of Hannah's fear and subsequent attempt to protect Thomas from suffering his father's depression and anger. Thomas' response is at times volatile and could be self destructive.

The story begins with Hannah's receipt of a newly discovered "gospel." To assist her in writing a book about her translation and interpretation of the new gospel text, she hires Brandt. Within the first scene, it is obvious that Brandt has fallen for Thomas. It gets extremely complicated when Hannah attempts to "use" Brandt to help stablize Thomas. The outcome is somewhat predictable. However, the emotions are genuine and often raw.

Bunin's play allows Thomas and Brandt to explore their relationship with authentic lines and scenes. Thomas' mistrust and doubt of his mother's faith is confrontative and harsh - it is very reflective of a young adult's challenge of their clergy parent's religion. It is painful to watch Hannah's character do too much preaching and not enough relationship building.

Her character, unfortunately, isn't given the opportunity to translate her desire to find the historical Jesus into a post-Easter Jesus who can communicate with a post-modern world and the young adults who live in it. That was very disappointing. There are Christians who are struggling to translate Jesus' life into a world looking for spiritual meaning. Unfortunately, Bunin fails to give Hannah a chance to be one of those voices.

The play was worth the money and the time. It provoked good conversation among our young adult group who attended.

everything must change

Brian McClaren's latest attempt to cast a vision for the emergent church movement towards social justice is a good start. Though, like most of his books he stops short of the end of the run way, I must admit he comes closer than any of his previous works of actually taking off. As a friend of my said, "He must have gotten bored before he finished."

His personal research through travel is undeniably powerful and allows him to make some provocative demands of the Evangelical circles to whom he is preaching. His exegesis is insightful at times. Though, I must admit, I prefer Stanley Hauerwas' socialist perspectives on the gospel to be more compelling. The evidence of McClaren's research is quite evident and extremely useful. This book is an excellent resource.

I found his treatment of the Millennium Development Goals to be rather dismissive and I was troubled by that. I will admit to my bias in that I believe the Episcopal Church is making a good effort at making this a real goal for the local church.

The format is excellent for a book study, which he intends, including questions at the end of each chapter. I find it impossible to imagine a study going on for thirty-four weeks (the number of chapters) - but the eight sections seem reasonable. I intend to lead a young adult group in such a study.

While the book is worth the read, the price of hard back will keep some young adults from reading it and I find that unfortunate. For those of you who can afford it - it's worth the time and money.

God doesn't care about baseball

Rockies General Manager, Daniel O’Dowd, stated in a recent news article that God definitely had a hand in the Rockies winning streak at the end of the season. That is pure religion drivel. What in the world is this guy thinking? That is absolutely the worst kind of theology imaginable. The real problem with it is that more people in America probably agree with him than don’t.

Popular theology, especially that of Evangelicals and religious conservatives has offered this notion of prosperity gospel for too long in this country. If O’Dowd or anyone else thinks that God cares about the outcome of a baseball game or a baseball season then answer me this question. If God really cares about that then why doesn’t God care enough to prevent Clint Hurdles’ daughter, Maddie, from being Prader-Willi, a random birth defect caused by the deformity of chromosome 15?

I don’t think God caused Maddie to be a Prader-Willi anymore than I think God caused my sister, Dinah, to be a Prader-Willi. It’s random and rarely happens. Just as rare as a team as poor as the Rockies winning 21 or their last 22 games coinciding with the collapse of the San Diego Padres and the New York Mets, both much better teams who would have had a better chance against the Red Sox. Actually I doubt if the National League All-Stars could beat the Red Sox or the Yankees or the Angels or even the Indians.

I do think that God deeply cares about Maddie, Clint Hurdle, Dinah, my parents and each individual person who walks across the face of the this earth. God cares enough to take the risk that we will care back without being manipulated. God cared enough to want to understand our trials and tribulations to come into this world and risk being born in a first century out post. God cared enough to live and die as one of us. This is the care and empathy of God. God cares and understands.

While I would have to say that God has the freedom to be God and to manipulate the flight of a baseball if God wanted to – but nothing in this world suggests that that is so.

Bishop of South Carolina

The Rev. Mark Lawerence was elected Bishop of South Carolina. This was the diocese' second try at electing Lawerence. The first election was declared null and void by The Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefforts Shori because Lawerence didn't receive the necessary majority approval from Standing Committees around the Episcopal Church. Lawerence was recently re-elected. He was the only candidate on the second ballot. This time he did receive a majority of approvals from Standing Committees. In both elections he received the required majority votes from Bishops.

It appeared that Lawerence did not get the needed consents the first time because he had publicly committed himself to leading the Diocese of South Carolina out of the Episcopal Church if he was elected. After not receiving the necessary consents he changed, sort of, his public statements.

I serve on the Standing Committee for the Diocese of Arizona. Our Standing Committee did not give consent to Lawerence's election after either election. I will admit that I did sign the consent form on the first election using the rationale that if South Carolina wanted Lawerence for their Bishop, then they should get what the want. If they want to leave the Episcopal Church well I guess that's their perogative. Though I strongly disagree with their motives, reasons and their theology - as a group if they want to have this kind of leadership, well, I guess then they should get what they want.

However, I didn't sign the second consent form because of Lawerence's changed public statements. I do believe that over time and with great effort and consideration that people can and do and should change their minds about all kinds of topics, thoughts, ideas, opinions and decisions - however, over night, when the motive seems so obvious- I doubt that serioiusly. It seems to make a mockery of the process. And process is what the Episcoapl Church is all about. So like Lawerence I changed my position.

The Episcopal Church is an open place that has room for a lot of opinions at the table. Lawerence and I are probably at opposite ends of the table theologically and probably every other way as well. It would be very sad and an expensive waste of money that could be used for mission efforts or the MDG's if the Diocese of South Carolina were to attempt to leave the Episcopal Church - of course, they can't leave, or better yet, can't take what belongs to the Episcopal Church, the people can leave, I guess - but, still, it would cause so much pain. We do, though, support diversity and dialogue which often strains the idea of holding hands around the table. But, we will see in this case.

It was at least comforting to see that the Diocese of South Carolina has invited the Presiding Bishop to visit the Diocese so that they can make clear their "theology." It wasn't clear whether they were inviting her to be at Lawerence's consecration. The language in the most recent press release seems to indicate that they do intend to remain in the Episcopal Church.

The business of the Episcopal Church is risky and complex business. I take being on the Standing Committee very seriously. I think it is my responsibility to represent our Diocese and not just my own opinions - which change, like Lawerence's did - so I guess we have some things in common, though, not much. I pray it is enough to at least keep us standing around the table - probably not holding hands, though.

God at the Pita Jungle

Peregrini took a field trip type pilgrimage evening to the Pita Jungle in Tempe - the Pita Jungle is a popular place to eat in Tempe, the food is good, the atmosphere is amenable to conversation and the price is reasonable. It's not our normal Peregrini hangout, but its a familiar place to most who show up for our weekly conversation.

Our topic this week was, "where is God? in the inconveniences of life?" Funny thing, that conversation never appeared. Which, is what a good Peregrini is all about - following the natural trend of what is on our minds and what is troubling our souls. We struggled with some national political issues as well as some local leaders who are trying to grab the headlines. We talked about various religious issues. The group encouraged one another in our efforts to be good stewards of the earth and to love our neighbors by feeding and clothing the most needy in the Tempe area. Jeff and Caroline are having a "Cool People Care" party. Its a unique movement of young adults, check it out.

What is most heartening about our conversation is that in it we find the ability to tease one other, love one another, care about one another - we are a community. A community that has room in it for new ideas, difference of opinions and those who care to join us on the walk.

if you are in the Tempe (larger Phoenix) area you are welcomed to join us - we meet regularly every Thursday, 7 pm, at St. Augustine's on the corner of Broadway and College (two blocks south of ASU). We always have a good (free) meal and the conversation - well, it could go anywhere, though I will admit I never remember talking about Elvis' appearance - but, who knows.

What happened to the Diamondbacks?

The Diamondbacks looked great against the Cubs, but what happened when they played the Rockies. Two things I guess. One is the Rockies were red hot (not so against the Red Soxs last night). The second is the Dbacks played like the youthful rookies they are - they made the mistakes young players make. They over ran bases, made assumptions about umpires calls and played tight when they got behind.

What does any of that have to do with God? Nothing. And that may be the best point. Life brings lots of circumstances to us that are out of our control and equally it brings things to us we can control with maturity. To blame God for thing outside the control of the world, in other words to blame God for evil in the world or reasonable people who make bad decisions, is to want to believe in Santa Claus, not God. As well, it is equally immature not to accept responsibility for our own actions and those things we can control - like the decisions we make.

Blaming God strangles the opportunity to mature. If the Dbacks want to be better they will have to recognize their mistakes and work on them to become mature players.

I think maybe the Cubs are on to something - wait till next year. I just hope it isn't 99 years before the Diamondbacks win the World Series again. If it is, well, I'll still be a fan (from the lap of God, of course).

God and baseball 2

Oh the pain of the Cubs. Oh the suffering of another loss. At a point anyone who embraces an attempt to understand God can empathize with Cub fans - longsuffering. It's so hard to watch. Admittedly, I am a Diamondback fan - but, still, in all truth, my heart goes out to the billy goat.

Of course, it really couldn't have gotten any worse when on Friday night the Diamondbacks were making their way to a sure victory but still within psychological reach of the Cubbies. A break? Dbacks shortstop Stephen Drew was hit by a pitch and started to take first base. Wait a minute - the umpire said Drew didn't attempt to avoid the pitch - the umpire evoked a rarely enforced rule and ordered Drew back to the plate, where he promptly hit a home run on the next pitch. Doomed once again.

And what does God have to say about that? As usual, God is silent. God is a suffering God, suffering in silence. Somehow we can relate, though we wish it were different. We would really like God to be more like a white knight God or a Santa Claus God or a miracle worker God - instead, God is a suffering God. Cub fans seems to understand oh so well.

God and baseball

I Was physically present to watch Cub fans in Phoenix wretch as their beloved losers, lost yet again. Kissing the Billy Goat? Pucker up. At Chase Field in Phoenix we had several Cub fans sitting around us. They were sharing stories of how much they paid for their tickets, $100 a seat, $150, $250, that’s a lot of money. I didn’t mention that my dad is a season ticket holder and paid the face value of $40. Oh yea, he gave me the tickets. I wondered to myself about the value of capitalism. Of course I also wondered about my own ethics of reveling in the joy of watching Cub fans once again squirm as they watched their hapless team struggle for the 99th year. As one blog suggests, God is a Cubs fan – God must be – God is all about suffering and who suffers more than the Cubs? Actually, I have a theory that the Cubs are losers by design – for them losing is profitable – the theory eases my guilt over feelings pains of capitalism. I’m a socialist and think Christians are socialist by the nature of Jesus’ teaching. Profit sharing is good for baseball because its a good socialist practice – and God must be in there somewhere.

Making it to second base with God and other musing from the dashboard light – I read a blog titled “God hates Cleveland sports.” Not! Cleveland just beat the Yankees in the bottom of the 11th and how did they do it? Canadian Soldier bugs that came in from the lake caused Joba Chamberlain to throw two wild pitches in the 7th inning – otherwise the Indians would have lost. Canadian Soldier bugs have a life of 48 hours. They actually hatched early because of the warm humid day in Cleveland. They showed up in the 8th inning because the wind died down. Sounds like Moses and the plagues on Pharaoh. Remember that? Yeah, gnats that swarmed the people forcing the oppressor to re-think long term slavery and captivity. The Yankees as oppressors? Cleveland the chosen people of God? Well I don’t know about the chosen people of God but clearly the Yankees and their oppressive “Boss” with too much capitalistic money lives in the house of Pharaoh. God hate Cleveland? He just sent the Canadian Soldiers as your savior.

God? Praying for peace?

It seems more difficult each day to pray for peace when the possibility of it is so remote. World leaders grapple with the political nuances of the needs of their own kingdoms while refusing to make decisons based on the economy of the absence of global conflict. Is peace in the world possible? Is peace within my own life possible?

Our Peregrini group wrestled with these questions. Prompted by our weekly prayer for peace and all peacemakers, we also struggled with our responsibility to be prophets and activists for peace. Do we support political leaders who advocate otherwise? What does it mean to "support" a political leader? Vote? What about working to overthrow a government? Here, there, anywhere?

Somehow keeping these questions in the context of a God conversation become confusing or at least troubling. Are we Americans first or Christians first? Surely they are not one in the same - but what happens when the objectives of one flys in the face of the other? These are questions that weighed heavy on our weekly discussion.

"We pray for continued blessings on all peacemakers, on leaders who value peace, and on everyone who promotes nonviolent solutions to conflict. We pray for a speedy end to all violence and warfare around the world."

God? You could at least remember her name

Elvira Arellano captured our attention last week. About a year ago she was taken in Sanctuary by Alberto United Methodist Church in Chicago. Elvira and her eight year-old son, Saul, lived in the church for just over 12 months.

Elvira is an undocumented alien who was working at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport where she cleaned airplanes to support the two of them. Her son is a US citizen. The church supported her in an attempt to prevent her from being deported.

This last week, while traveling between churches in Los Angeles where she was speaking about the plight of undocumented aliens, she was arrested. She was deported to Tijuana the next day.

Our Peregrini centered upon the role of the Church (if any) in providing sanctuary for those who seek it. The conversation covered a wide range of possibilities whereby some might seek sanctuary. While no resolution was derived there was lively debate about the legitimacy of someone who has committed a crime seeking solace under the grace of the church.

The most stunning part of the evening came after the official conversation while we cleaning up. When we started the evening I apologized for not being able to remember this woman’s name. While we were cleaning up Tyler reminded me that her name is Elvira. He told me he had heard lots of conversation about this topic on talk-radio. One commentator couldn’t remember the woman’s name and he remarked, “it doesn’t really matter.” Tyler said it does matter because without a name and face we can forget that we are talking about real people with hurts and pains just like ours. Thanks for reminding me Tyler and I pray not to forget Elvira and her Saul.

God? Double Dipping

The Rev. Ann Holmes Redding said in a recent Christian Century article titled "Episcopal Priest who embraced islam suspended for a year" that she is both Muslim and Christian. "I'm both an American of African descent and a woman. I'm 100 percent both. At the most basic level, I understand the two religions to be compatible. That's all I need." Redding told her story to the Seattle times in June.

Her Bishop, The Rt. Rev. Geralyn Wolf, suspended her for a year to "reflect on the doctrines of Christian faith and her vocation as a priest." Wolf states that he sees "the conflicts inherent in professing both Christianity and Islam."

Our Peregrini discussion divided the conversation into several parts.

First, no one thought any bishop would take such an action against a lay person. Some of our group doubted that some bishops would even take a similar action against some priests that they suspicion might have similar leaning, or at least embrace another religion like Buddhism.

Second, there was some serious conversation given to the idea that the priest, as an employee of the church and having taken vows of holy orders has an obligation to be one who "proclaims the gospel." However, it was pointed out that it would be hard to find any priest that weren't in violation of such canons. Who would be the keeper of the "orthodoxy?" Would we be heading to more inquistions?

Third, some made the point, "who really cares?" Until religion can get over itself and begin understanding itself as all a part of One Holy God and not holy apostolic and catholic Church, it will be at the root of conflict and even war. Because we may not be able to accommodate The Rev. Redding, we probably are driving others who are eclectic in faith, away from the church as a whole. Just another form of fundamentalism? What do you think?

Theology on Tap:Does God Happen to Everyone?

Theology on Tap - Does God Happen to Everyone?

The Rev. Kate Bradley led our pilgrims in a troubling conversation. Kate is always open and personal. She told us about her childhood experience of being encountered by a very tangible God. It was the beginning of her journey that has led her to be a priest in the Episcopal Church. But, the question was, does everyone have this kind of experience and if not, why not?

Carole offered the story of a 50 year-old friend who has lived a prayerful and disciplined life, hoping and longing for Kate’s kind of spiritual contact with God. Carole’s friend wants to feel that God loves him and knows him personally. Is that too much to ask? Her friend lives in the continued agony of aching for an experience that he has no hope will happen.

The conversation focused on the friend. Maybe he just hasn’t contexted his own experience in such a fashion that he could quantify such an existential moment? Maybe God has offered such an experience and he just hasn’t known it? Or felt it? Maybe it will happen?

We were told that in the book What Ever Happened to the Soul? by Warren Brown and Nancy Murphy that neuroscience suggests that the brain is either wired for spiritual experience or it is not. Spiritual experience, visions, can be provoked by neuro-stimulus. Maybe her friend just isn’t “properly wired.”

In all honestly that viewpoint was heartily argued against. Not necessarily from a scientific perspective but from the point of the limitations of the unseen God.

It was suggested that her friend had every right to beseech God about God’s absence. The Psalms are full of those crying out to God to be fully present to the experience of humanity.

We were told about Sister Theresa who lived her life without any ecstatic experience of God. She simply chose to live a life of daily obedience and service.

Obviously we didn’t come to any conclusions – we just shared lots of ideas and personal stories. Join in the conversation.