"Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh,"

I believe I told you about Andrew Ramer. Well, here he is again with a post that left me speechless. This is gorgeous.

From our cool friends at Jewcy:

Twice a Heretic
from Tales from Andalusia

by Andrew Ramer, September 8, 2009

"Kadosh, Kadosh, Kadosh," we say to You in prayer, three times over. "Holy, Holy, Holy." And now I find myself before You, at thrice the age of a boy who has had his bar mitzvah. I cannot count the times over all these years that I have awakened and called out to You, still in my bed, I stand before You, God. I have thanked You for the purity of my soul, for the wonders of my body. I have praised and exalted You, over and over again, in words of my own, in synagogue, joined with my people in common prayer, Sabbath after Sabbath, festival after festival, fast day after fast day. I've read psalms and even written them to You, as all of my friends have, calling out to You, O God of Israel.

When I was twice the age of a bar mitzvah boy I remember asking the rabbi of my youth this question: "After all of these years of calling out to God, why hasn't He called back?" The rabbi's answer was simple. "To the prophet Elijah He spoke, we are told, in a still small voice." I knew nothing of still small voices. Our household was always filled with people, and our prayer halls are always jammed and noisy from men's prayers. Curious about how I would ever hear that still small voice, I asked my Christian friend Rolando about silence, for I had heard that Christian monks spend long periods of time alone, silent, in prayer. He told me what he knew, gave me a book of his to read, which invoked the same passages about the still small voice. So I found places to still myself, in the attic, the cellar, in the synagogue at times when no one else was there. Once, feeling very brave, I asked Rolando if I could go to church with him, and he took me, at a time when mass was not being offered. He led me to a tiny chapel, where candles flickered before an image of a saint. I was nervous and yet curious. He knelt and I stood in silence. But I did not hear Your voice, God, although we remained there a long time, and I have tried, in the middle of the night, when I wake, to feel my way to You in the silence, to open myself up to You, in the silence. But You never spoke back to me, God, not one single time in all of those years.

Once when we were boys, and he had just come back from mass, I remember Rolando telling me about the mystery of Jesus, how he was God Himself, come to earth, come into a human body. That he was born, suffered, and died for our sins. It did not make sense to me, why the Creator of all that is would have to do that. But it makes sense to me now.

The first time I saw him, God, come into a room, I felt as if a comet had shot its way down from the heavens, down across the sky, sending its fiery tail out behind it, illuminating the night. I felt as if that comet had flared its way across the sky and then careening downward, had slammed into my chest with the force of a gigantic cannon ball, crumbling my defenses, smashing through all of my protective walls, setting me on fire. Each time that I saw him, God, walking in the city, in the market, in the bathhouse, I burned. And if I saw him with any other men, such rage flamed up in me that I feared for my actions. And I ran from him, turned my back and fled each time I saw him. I am not a boy, God, as you know, and this foolish youthful passion is unseemly.

So why did You do this to me? Why didn't You just speak, as You spoke to the prophets, directly, or spoke to the rabbis of old, in a lesser voice, which we call the daughter of a voice? God, I would fall to my knees before You if you spoke to me in the great great granddaughter of a voice, in a voice so tiny that it would make a whisper sound like waves crashing on the shore, or the crack of lightning shattering the sky, or the thunder of horses across a plain, pulling iron chariots. Instead, you have come to me this way, turning me into a Christian. For now I understand what Rolando was telling me all of those years ago. You do enter the world. You can be born. But this time it is me who suffers, me who is dying, me who yearns to sin and live for my sins. What madness, to be twice a heretic, for now I believe like a Christian and not a Jew. But I cannot join their church for I do not believe that Yesu was Your only begotten Son, but Abdul.

Abdul ibn Rachman, the son of a minister to the king. Abdul ibn Rachman, even his name sends shivers through me. I ran from him. You know that I did. I turned and ran, double heretic that I am, falling in love with a Muslim. And now yesterday, in a voice so loud that I could not deny it, You called out to me through him, and I ran to You. A cart out of control, thundering down the Street of the Tailors, just as I was passing. I heard it before I saw it, and I threw myself up against a wall as it passed. But there ahead, there was a crowd. They too did the same, all of them, press themselves flat against a wall. But the horse was wild, and the cart was rocking from side to side, and a single man with his back to me was struck as the cart shuddered by. I saw it rip into his shoulder, and I heard his scream. Being a physician I ran toward him, as he fell into the street, holding his shoulder, in agony. A woman beside him began to scream for help, as I fell to the ground beside the fallen man. "I'm a doctor," I said to him, as I lay a gentle hand upon his back. "You're going to be all right." I did not know that. It's something that we always say. You know that. So I said it, as I slipped a hand down his back and slowly lowered him to the street.

You did this to me, God. This is the way that you have answered all of my years of prayer. For when I turned him from his side to his back, it was those same dark eyes looking up at me, now in terror. I pulled my shawl off, rolled it up and quickly put it beneath his head. He smiled at me weakly, upside down. I told him I had seen what had happened, and asked him how his shoulder was. He winced as he tried to move his left arm toward his right, to feel from the outside what I knew from his grimace must be very painful. Was his shoulder dislocated, broken, torn? Blood was seeping through his clothing. I was about to say something else when two servants came running through the crowd which had gathered. They were servants of his father's. But You know that. You know how they gently lifted him and carried him back to his father's house, and how I followed them. And You know how all the way there he clenched my hand and would not let go, and how each time the servants slipped or loosened their grip on him, he would shudder, wince, cry out in pain. Later, when I had examined him and found out that nothing was broken but skin, nothing dislocated but our hearts, he told me that he was ashamed that he'd cried out. And I said to him, "Every cry is a prayer." And he said, "This is the first cry of mine that has ever been answered." Surely this is a sign from You, that two men find each other who have been looking for You without success, who find You in each other. And so I say, thank you.

Dog Friends

This is Rowan's friend. Her name is Samantha. She's old but when Rowan is around she gets a burst of energy, she clicks her little paws on the hard floor, sometimes she even runs back and forth for no apparent reason. She only does this when Rowan is around.

I have a couple friends too. I know, I know, I've been a grouchy gal since coming back to Texas. But, a few people are still willing to be my friends.

And I've noticed that, like little Samantha, my friends influence me. Some make me laugh, others help me think. Some are just good for hanging out. A few can cook. But, in their eyes I see a little of myself. I see myself the way they see me. And, you know what, they do not all have the same image I do.

I don't think I have anything to say about that. But, isn't it interesting? And, isn't Samantha a cute little dog?

For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. -- I Cor. 13:12

All Our Opinions

We all have an opinion these days, don't we? I mean, I do. Go ahead, ask me anything! I've probably got something to say about it. And, it's likely that what I have to say is something you need to hear. I mean, that's how it is, isn't it? We all have something new and fresh to say about everything, all the time, and we are always right... Yeah, that sounds about right to me.

So, on that subject, here's a little something for all of us to think about:




Nan-in, a Japanese master received a university professor, full of learning and talk, who came to inquire about Zen, Nan-in served tea. He filled the visitor's cup and then kept pouring, The professor watched the overflow until he could no longer restrain himself.

"It's over-full, No more will go in."

"Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?




I do have thoughts about this, and speculations. But, maybe I should let my quick analysis go and see if something else shows up in my cup...

Wray, William. Sayings and Tales of Zen Buddhism, Reflections for Every Day. 1. Edison, NJ: Chartwell Books, 2006. Print.

A Little Parable About Getting Along

The Episcopal church asks each diocese to contribute 21% of its income to the budget of General Convention. That money goes for a wide variety of things, including GC itself. There's the Church Center and its staff, committee meetings, and many, many, mission initiatives -- foreign and domestic -- which are funded through this budget. It's really a thing of beauty, the budget of General Convention.

So, anyway, most of the diocese give about that amount. Newark gives 25%, I think. Some give less. It seems like pretty much a voluntary thing. And nobody wants to see harsh enforcement. TEC is more of a communal enterprise. When one can't pay as much, the others take up the slack. No big deal.

There are, however, some who abuse this system. Texas, one of the richest diocese around, like top one or two in income, usually pledges about 8 or 9%. Really paltry. It's miserly of them because if they changed their priorities from fancy diocesan conference centers to being part of the Christian family they could easily give 21%. I mean, Newark could probably have a nice new diocesan conference center if it only gave 8%. Lots of dioceses, dioceses which give sacrificially, could have better wages, nicer facilities, and big fancy miters for their bishops. But, they have different priorities. Their value is on belonging, contributing, being a part of something bigger.

I think this is really tacky of Texas. Besides that, I think it's spiritually dicey. And I am totally serious about that. But it's been going on for a long time and I don't give it much thought. But, I'll tell you something, I was caught up short when I read this in the diocesan newspaper:

Assessment payments have been the subject of a good deal of discussion at recent Executive Board meetings. In an effort to clarify their position and better understand the situation, the Executive Board has asked that those congregations who are more than 120 days in arrears with their assessment payments as of August 31, 2009, send their Head of Congregation and Wardens to attend the Executive Board's meeting on September 15 at Camp Allen. The leadership will be asked to explain the financial and stewardship issues that the congregation is facing. August 19, first item, August 12, first item, August 5, first item, July 29, third item down

Now, it sounds like they are going to have some kind of a "Listening Process" regarding the payments which are in arrears. But, don't bet on it. If history holds, there'll be strong-arming and humiliation. I would like to think that maybe I am wrong on that but, you know, history...

So, the richest and stingiest diocese is now putting the heat on those from whom they wish to collect. Makes you go humm, doesn't it?

There's a story recorded in the Bible which you may remember. It's about a king, a high level bureaucrat, and one of the bureaucrat's peers. Let's call them The King, Lord Lucky, and Screwed Guy.

Lord Lucky was high up in the scheme of things, responsible for all that money and everything. (You can sometimes guess at the status of people in parables by the amount of money connected with them.) But, being powerful and everything wasn't enough for our man. Lord Lucky had aspirations to the throne and he made a bid to overthrow the king by refusing to pay up on his share of the takings. The king threatened to sell Lord Lucky and his family into the worst kind of slavery, which is what kings sometimes did when they took a mind to. But, Lord Lucky showed the proper remorse and pledged to pay up, proving that he did in fact have the money all along. It was an admission of fraud and a plea for mercy. Wisely, the king not only forgives the power play but the debt as well. He has bought increased loyalty from a well-placed retainer who now owes him his life.

But, that's not the end of the story. News travels fast in court, don't you know. Lord Lucky, having been chastened and having escaped within an inch of his life is also humiliated. He must reassert himself. So he immediately pounces on one of his peers, another retainer, probably not as highly placed. His name was Screwed Guy. So, anyway, he pounces on this poor guy for, I don't know, like 100 denari. And Screwed Guy can't pay. He's screwed.

Now, at this point you might think that Lord Lucky would have mercy on his peer, a guy who might even have been his friend. I mean, I would think that. But, I know the story. It continues on like this: Lord Lucky was enraged because, you see, he was unable to reassert his preeminence among his peers, it was sort of emasculating for him, another humiliation. So he threw his fellow bureaucrat in jail until he could pay the debt. Of course, he couldn't earn money while he was in jail so it became a way to extort money from the poor guy's family. Very nasty business, I tell you. Oh, and there was torture too.

And, I'll tell you what else happened. The other retainers, Lord Lucky's peers, turned on him. After all, they reasoned, if Lord Lucky could do this to Screwed Guy, he might do it to them too. The bureaucrats let slip to the king what had happened.

The king might have turned a blind eye. After all, it was Lord Lucky's job to help keep the coffers full and Lord Lucky did have a track record of success. That's why he had the big-time job to start with. The king might even have been amused since a little bickering among the literrati distracted them from their hobby of open graft. But, surprisingly the king was mad about it.

The thing is, it was never about the money. It was never even about loyalty. It was about the community, the kingdom.

Lots of kings in those days suffered from a little messianic ideation. There was a collective myth that the king was a good and humble man raised to the heights of power by acclamation of the common folk. Totally not true, of course. But, people liked believing this sort of thing. I think it made them feel that they had something to say about who ruled over them with an iron fist. It wasn't much. But, it was more than reality afforded. So, to perpetuate this kind of thinking, real kings sometimes forgave huge debts which benefited the whole community. These were true messianic acts, and the amount, hugely enormous, could only be forgiven by a true savior. That is, a truly benevolent king.

But, Lord Lucky didn't understand that.

See, there's no such thing as a personal relationship with the king. The king's only relationship is to the kingdom. So, by assuming that he'd been granted a personal beneficence, that there were no ramifications for the rest of the community, Lord Lucky missed the point entirely. And, of course, Lord Lucky is the one who winds up in a prison of his own making. And he will stay there forever too because the amount of his debt, unlike Screwed Guy's, is unpayable.

So, I tell you all this mainly because I enjoy telling a good story. But, also because there is a way of thinking that assumes that we are not all connected, it presumes the asking of General Convention to be somehow different from the asking a diocese makes to its parishes.

I am telling you that THE King, who has forgiven all, really does intend for that to trickle down to the whole kingdom.

As we deduced from the Matthean parable, it's not about the money. It's not even about loyalty and belonging. What it's about is the kingdom, the community. And if TEC has overlooked Texas' arrogance and stinginess, then Texas should overlook it in it's parishes.

=====

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog know that it is not a very well researched enterprise. Generally, I just sit down and start typing. If you want real news there are sites for that. Other sites. But, I do try to get it right for you. So, if I have presented as fact anything that is not true I would welcome your correction. And that goes for anything, anywhere, not just this piece. I am writing only from memory, I am only offering my opinions. You'll see that I often use words like "about," and "I think." That's because I think I am right but realize that my information may be dated. Or, possibly I am just wrong. If you think I need to amend anything, please let me know. Thanks.

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Make an on-line slideshow at www.OneTrueMedia.com

If you haven't heard of Andrew Ramer, you will. Here's a little something to get you started.

From our cool friends at Jewcy:

Queer Midrash
This is what I want to hear...



Don't tell me about the Shekhinah.
How God's female aspect
is a sacred part of our tradition.
The word "aspect" gives it all away.

Your Shekhinah is God's sidekick
chum
Purim drag costume.
She's His sad dark girlfriend
evicted from her Jerusalem apartment
by the Romans
and wandering ever since.

I don't want an Aspect in my prayers
not even that upgrade to First Class
Yah Shekhinah.
Yah is a masculine form
not the Tah Shekhinah that would
make it truly female.

This is what I want
and nothing less
if we really mean
that God isn't Male.
I want prayers to Her
that don't frighten us into thinking
"This is paganism. Heresy.
Something we've avoided for
two thousand years!"
I want Her presence to be felt
Her names to be called
Her blessings to be known
Just as His are.

I want:
May She who makes peace
in Her high heavens.
I want:
And on the seventh day She rested.
I want:
Holy Holy Holy
is the Lady of Hosts
the whole earth is full of Her glory.

I want new liturgy to Her
or I want us to throw out
everything stale and male and old.
I want generations of Jewish girls
and boys
to grow up hearing us pray to Her.
Creator
Sustainer
Mother of all.

I want us to bask in Her magnificence.
Her glory.
I want us to midrash Miriam
in the cleft of lightning-struck tree
as She flashes by
shining.
I want the cosmos to be Her challah
shaped and molded.
The universe her handiwork.
Her offspring
birthed from her Sacred Self
and never separate from It.

Is this too much to ask
of a tradition that has reinvented itself
over and over again
for three thousand years?
Not contracted fear
but expansion and open embrace.
Reverence.
Recognition.
That we see in Her
what we find in ourselves
and see mirrored in ourselves
what we find in Her:
One
Eternal
Ever-present
Creator of the Universe
Source of Life.
Our Mother
Our Comfort
Our God.

A Little Secret

You want to know what I hear a lot? I hear people saying that the only way to change people's hearts and minds is to let them get to know you. Once they know a real live lesbian, the reasoning goes, they will magically become all queer-friendly and pleasant. It's the incarnational reality of the homo at home that'll win the day. That's what they say.

Unfortunately, it's bullshit.

I've spent a good deal of time and energy "being present" to homophobes, exposing myself to their careful scrutiny, trying to make the grade on behalf of all of us. But, here's what happens. They wind up liking me quite a lot. You, not so much.

Even hardened homophobes have learned to like me. I wear lipstick and act like a girl, after all. I'm not at all like the rest of you. And, I'm not making this up. That's pretty much what they say:

"We like YOU, Lindy. But..."

But, not those girley-men,

not those transexuals,

not those women in leather,

not Louie Crew and his feather boa,

or Susan Russell and her manish haircut.

No, we don't like them.
But, you, Lindy... you're a good homo. We like you.

That's what they say.

And often I counter that statement with a little statement of my own. I call it the I AM statement.

"I AM those people," I say.

I AM the flamingist queen,

I AM the butechest dyke.

I AM the most strident, the girliest, the queerest, gayest one of all.

I AM the one who frightens you. Yes, me.

I AM your worst nightmare. And, look, I'm not so bad."

I wish you could see the looks on their faces. They are utterly dunfounded. Why, after all, having been graced with their good favour, would I now identify myuself with that kind of person?

For all the crap I've put up with, no hearts have been moved, no minds changed. Sure, people like me. But, they won't fight for me, or for you whom they still do not like.

It's a loosing game, this business of winning people over with our gay charms. The fact of the matter is that while we may be tolerated, or even accepted, on an individual basis. They still won't have anything to do with us as a matter of justice, still don't see our cause rooted in the gospel, and only play along to amuse us when we dare to bring it up.

For me, I am no longer in the business of gaining acceptance from homophobes. I quit.
I AM who I AM.

The Episcopal bishop of Texas has written to the diocese. I guess nobody told him that he's making an ass of himself and that he will eventually expend a great deal of energy back-peddling out of his neolithic Windsor musings. I am certainly not going to tell him because I don't care about his fat ass. But, here are just a few little gems from his post for those of you who still care:

These are from Bishop Doyle's blog post entitled "From Bp. Andy Doyle on Day 8." Clever title, eh?

...I believe the House of Bishops has in its power to make decisions and take actions through pastoral letters to the church without the House of Deputies.

...I shared with them my very clear commitment to the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Windsor Process, and the Covenant Process.

Both resolutions (DO25 and CO56) will, I am most certain, place strain on the Anglican Communion. Reactions I've received support this belief. However, we need to give the communion time to respond, and we need to listen to our Archbishop as he speaks to us about his thoughts and reflections on the events of General Convention.
I am committed to the Windsor Report recommendations and process which include a moratoria on blessings and elections of partnered gay clergy to the office of bishop.

I am committed to the Covenant and a process.

... And, that you will know of my very clear intention to continue on the Windsor Path.

OK. There's so much wrong with this that I'm not even going to go into it. Most of the people who read my blog are smart enough to figure it out without my blatherings.

But, remember what I said several months ago about how whatever goes on at GC won't really matter because all the bishops will go back home and do whatever they want anyway? 'Member that? Because it does appear that I was spot on. And you thought I was just being a negative nellie...

Look, read the whole thing. That's why I gave you the link to it. And read Andy Baby's other musings. Don't just take my word for it. There's plenty of assyness there to be discovered by you too.

Behold the Princes of the Church!

Some of you may have been wondering why I am less than enthusiastic about the goings on at General Convention. Well, take a look. These are the two clowns who run things in the Diocese of Texas. There's also Cowgirl Dena who, to the best of my knowledge, is not wearing headgear at this convention. Dena's a bag of dicks but she dresses well.

Bishop Doyle, that's the fat one, was once rumored to be a change-maker. "He's young," people said hopefully, as if that would also make him less of an asshole. It has not, by the way.

People were once hopeful about Bishop Wimberley too, remember? But, within months of Wimberley's election the kindest thing people were saying was "...disappointing." In the ensuing years he proved himself to be ham-handed and authoritian. Nobody really likes him except maybe a few bishop-ass kissers. But, even they have to know that Don Wimberley's has been a failed episcopate.

Now I am neither a prophet, nor am I the son of a prophet, but I predict that Andy Doyle is headed for the same kind of episcopate that Don Wimberley had. What makes me think that? Well, several things.

• He was born in this diocese
• He attended Episcopal schools in this diocese
• He was called and ordained in this diocese
• He has never served in any other diocese
• He was canon to Don Wimberley
• He has identified himself as a "Windsor Bishop"
  

On what planet would a guy like that be considered a change maker? It's more of the same.

You have heard me lament that at the end of General Convention the princes of the church go back to their little fiefdoms and do whatever they damn well please, regardless of any resolutions that are passed. And that is exactly what Cowboy Andy is doing.

Here's what he had to say about D025:

Bishop High, Bishop Harrison and I each voted against the resolution as we have been and continue to be concerned regarding the repercussions throughout the Anglican Communion. And we were concerned with the idea that DO25 repeals BO33 from the 2006 General Convention....

Which, of course, are the same bogus arguments that have been floating around out there since 2003. They weren't real arguments then and they aren't now. These are not-so clever excuses, and unlike in 2003, it is now clear that they are totally false. Our place in the communion is secure, and B033 remains invalid since it violates out canons.

Regarding B033, Andy says

The Diocese of Texas honors the moratorium not because of DO25 or BO33, but because of our belief that the teachings of the church on sexuality have not changed, that the Windsor Report asks the American church to refrain from election and ordination of a bishop who is living in a partnered relationship, from the development of rites for same sex blessings, and our own resolutions and canons currently have reaffirmed our views on the topic.

Do you want me to go over it for you?

1. By definition moratorium has a set ending point. Thus, until such time as a set end point is established, there is no moratorium. Maybe we should call it what it is, a bone-headed refusal to change.

2. One would not honor such a moratorium, if such existed, because of D025. One would do so in spite of it. Because of and in spite of are really two quite different things. I do hope someone will explain this to Bishop Doyle.

3. "The teachings of the church on sexuality have not changed..." What? Ever? I mean, I don't think you can get any dumber than that. But, there it is. From one of your princes.

4. The Windsor Report!!! Egads! The Windsor Report is not a canon, it's has no authority. Even those who worked on it have said that they did not understand our polity and have urged us to move forward. But Andy Doyle, like Don Wimberley before him, has has made it a part of his own identity. They are Windsor Bishops. And soon they will either have to back-pedal out of that identity or resign themselves to a place on the wrong side of history.

5. "...our OWN resolutions and canons..." In other words, we'll do whatever we want, Regardless.

So, there's all the hoop-la in Anaheim, moving past B033 and all that jazz, But, what do you think will really change here in the Diocese of Texas for gay and lesbian Christians? Do you think the trans community will feel the impact of the General Convention welcome here in Texas? What's your guess, would the standing committee of EDoT consent to a gay or lesbian bishop? You know the answers.

So, forgive me if I'm not caught up in the euphoria of the moment. I'm of the opinion that until ALL of us are welcome, none of us are truly welcome. Even you,,,

Another Bird Picture

Because we love the little birds...

Another Dog Picture

Another Bird Picture

I've Got a Crush on Maimonides

If you've been paying attention you know that I'm falling in love with Maimonides. So, when I saw a little biography at Half-Price Books I snapped it up.

Maimonides, or The Rambam, is one of the truly larger than life figures on the stage of world history. Between Moses and Moses there was none like Moses, goes the saying. The Jews have long accepted the near equality of Moshe ben Amram and Moshe ben Maimon, and for good reason. Just consider:

• Both lived during a time of persecution,
  
• Both lived in Egypt,
  
• Both did miracles,
  
• Both had siblings who were significant in their lives/survival,
• Both had powerful ememies,
  
• Both were close to the king,
  
• Both were leaders of their people.

Thus, it's hard to understand why Sherwin B. Nuland focused almost exclusively on Maimoides' life as a physician.

I mean, it was interesting. I still recommend it. But, it seems like we can't really call it a biography, maybe a partial biography, or a refraction of a certain light. But, not a true biography.

One of the things I do like about the way Sherwin B. Nuland put the book together is that he spent as much time telling us about the things that influenced Maimonides as he did about what Maimonides himself said and did. And, while I knew a lot of what he told me, it was helpful to have it gathered up in this way and made part of one single story. I feel like I understand the times and the culture of Maimonides much better than I did before.

For example, there's this from the section on how ancient medicine merged with religion, and how the Hippocratic practitioners, along with the Jews, rejected such merging:

...but some of the leading practitioners of Hippocratic medicine saw the study of their art as a way of understanding the divine, just as the Jews did. And they went even further, Galen of Pergamon, the most imfluential physician who has ever lived, believed that the proper way to worship the Divinity is not with prayer and sacrifice but with experiment and observation. Late in the second century C.E., he described his greatest anatomical work, De Usa Partium, as "the sacred discourse which I am composing as a true hymn of praise to our Cereator." To him, learning about the body was the sure way to learn about the godhead. He wrote:

And I consider that I am really showing him reverence, not when I offer him unnumbered hecatombs of bulls and burn incense of cassia worth the thousand talents, but when I myself first learn to know his wisdom, power and goodness and then make them known to others. - 1

And this big discussion of Galen and his beliefs helped me understand how Maimonides thought about both science and religion. A few other little gems on that subject:

To them [Hypocratic practitioners] and to Maimonides, the physician's skills may have been God-given, but they were to be applied independently of any direct divine intervention. It is not a prayer that one should rely on when sick, he argued, but medical aid; the means of curing disease are provided by God, but "He has given wise and skillful men the knowledge of how to prepare and how to apply them." It is to these wise and skillful physicians that one should turn when disease strikes. - 2

And in his Discourse on Fits, written for Al Afdal (Fatimid vizier in Cairo) Maimonides said,

"Religion prescribes all that is useful and forbids all that is harmful in the next world; while the doctor indicates what is useful and warns against what is harmful in this world." - 3

Some have argued that this statement speaks to Maimonieds' life-long quest to integrate religion and science. But, when you stop to realize that such a dichotomy didn't really exist until later, and when you take into account the various other influences on Maiomonides, especially Galen and the Greek physicians, it starts to seem more and more like Maimonides was simply placating his patient, not trying to justify science to religion or vice versa.

I am glad to have gained a better understanding of this, and Maimonides' formation in this area for three reasons.

One - I just love him and want to know everything about him. Like a little girl, I have a crush on Maimonides. I admit it. And,

Two - It makes me think about worship and how silly it is to spend hours chanting, and praying, and staring at candles and then to go do something else. Because, it's not something else. If Bishop Rowan has taught us anything it's that every thing we do is worship. I think Maimonides got that, and it feels refreshing, and validating to me to hear him say it.

Three - Same thing in reverse. It makes me think about work in a different way. Maimonides helps me to see that we don't worship on the mountain or in the temple. We worship at work, at play, at home, with friends, in the car, all the time. Look, I will still light a candle this evening, and I'll kiss my icon, and I'll say my prayers. I did it just this morning too and prayed for many of you. We still do that, all of us. But, there's no big line marking off "holy" time from... let's call it "ordinary" time since that's coming up. These "times" to the extent that they exist at all are pretty much the same I think. And, it seems like Maimonides thought that too.

Despite the death of his brother, which left Maimonides depressed and in his bed for nearly a year, and the resulting financial crises in his family, Maimonides steadfastly refused to take money for his work as a rabbi.

Being committed to a principle that the talmudic sage Rabbi Zadok articulated with the words (later reiterated by Maimonides), "Make not of the Torah a crown wherewith to aggrandize thyself, nor a spade wherewith to dig") and also stated by the great Hillel, who said, "Whosoever derives a profit for himself form the words of the Torah is helping in his own destruction"), the scholars of that period and afterward rejected payment for their religious services and sought secular employment. - 4

Surprisingly, I am not going to go on one of my usual rants about the clergy. Instead, I want to talk about the many ways that even an imbecile like me can make a spade out of the Torah. In fact, I'd like to see some kind of multi-session study group on this because I think it would be very interesting. I am not going to give you all the answers. I don't have them anyway. But, I'll tell you what questions I'd like to explore:

• What's the point of Torah study anyway?

• What -- besides money/benefits -- can we acquire from Torah study? (knowledge, understanding, prestige, self-importance...)

• How do those things (above) help/hinder us in knowing God?
  

See, lately I've seen quite a lot of people who are real impressed with all they know. And, they may actually know quite a lot. I don't know. But, what I do know it that the point of Torah study is not to be able to puff yourself up like some kind of puffy thing and be all big about it. That's not it. Jesus, you'll recall, was more of a humble guy. And he told us that if we want to know God, we should try to be like him. "Just look at me," he says. And you hardly ever see Jesus strutting around like a peacock.

Moses Maimonides could very easily have made a comfortable living from his Torah knowledge, his writing, and his judgments, the vast work he did on behalf of the Jewish people. But, he was absolutely committed to this idea that to benefit from Torah was its own destruction.

I don't have to worry about making a living from Torah, or the Bible. You all don't even want me in church, remember? But, like all of you, I want to be very careful that I don't accrue any little foxes of profit. Maimonides is a reminder to us that all we know came from God and belongs to the whole community. It is not our private information to dole out to those on whom we smile and to withhold from those whom we deem unworthy.

My rabbi once said that if you know something, and you refuse to teach it to others, you are steeling. I think he was right. In fact, that's the main reason I started my blog, lo these several years ago. I wanted a place to share the things I learned. I know, I know, it often turns into post after post about what I think about various things. But, once in awhile, I share something worth knowing too.

Regarding Torah itself, the Rambam was very clear that it's not to be taken literally.

"Literal interpretation, Maimonides believed, is only an adornment to attract those who are incapable of conprehending the comples truths that lie beneath. "Employ your reason," the Rambam exhorted those capable of doing so, "and you will be able to discern what is said allegorically, figuratively, and hyperbolicallym, and what is meant literally."" - 5

I don't know to what extent the Jews of today have this problem of literalists in their midst but it is a big problem in Christendom. I really do believe that we've got to stop being so very accommodating of these "differences" in thought and just call it what it is: childish nonsense.

Of course we have stories. How else can we speak of the ineffable? How else to communicate God's goodness and love to children? The stories help us see the unified whole of religion. They are very, very, good. But, they are not the literal truth of God once delivered to anybody.

Maimonides was concerned with preserving the faith of his people. And, given that it was under attack from many corners, that was a reasonable approach. But, he also understood that religion moves and changes. The temple sacrifices had been abandoned, he argued, because the people had grown up, matured, and the sacrifices were no longer needed. Maimonides understood Rabbinic Judaism to be a new paradigm, and that there would be others as well.

Like a primitive people, we too may have been attracted to stories and myths of our religion. We use them to teach children and the simple minded, we think about them because they contain the seeds of truth. But, they are not the truth itself.

Maimonides often used charms or rituals in his healing. He knew the value of the placebo effect well. And to be healed by placebo is no less healing than to be healed by medicine. But, the doctor knows that the medicine, the stuff of health, is in the application, not in the charm. So it is with the actual words in Torah. If we apply the truth well, we can enjoy the stories without placing ourselves in the position of being anti-science. Maimonides, and his times, show us that science and religion are compatible. Rightly understood, they don't ever contradict. They just don't. But, I suppose this will remain perplexing for the literal minded. ;)

I want to read more from Maimonides. Not sure I am ready to tackle the Mishna Torah. But, maybe. I don't know. I am taking recommendations from the audience. What's your favorite Maimonides book? What should I read next?

______________________________________

1 - Sherwin B. Nuland, Maimonides (New York: Shocken Books, a division of Random House, 2005), p. 7, 8.

2 - Ibid, p. 177

3 - Ibid, p. 210

4 - Ibid, p. 12

5 - Ibid, P. 134

Now that Rowan has posted about his day at the beach, let me tell you what it was like from my perspective.

As soon as the Sun was up Rowan was ready to go.  He must have brought me his leash a dozen times before I even got out of bed.  Thus, I didn't take time for my own breakfast and, frankly, I was barely dressed when we got out the door.

Rowan woofed down his Flint River Ranch.  He did not chew each bite fifty times, I'll tell you that.  He went back and forth between his new bandanna and his gay pride bandanna, finally settling on the former.

By the time we got to the beach I was starving.  Rowan was wiggling.  Despite his joyful anticipation I made a stop at the Jetty Shack, a Surfside bar and grill, more bar than grill, near the jetty.

I ordered a sandwich and much needed Soda. Took a bowl of water to the dog who looked at me ruefully and unappreciatively. Honestly, what does he want? Human food?

After a nice meal -- really, you can't beat the Jetty Shack -- and a visit with the waitresses who report that it's getting too expensive to live in Surfside, I used the facility.  As you can see it was...

 

well supplied

And, oh so tastefully appointed.  

The Jetty Shack anticipates it's customer's every need... fancy, eh?

I scoff but the truth is, I love the place.   Just like I love Surfside, and the beach, and really all the swampy mess of southern Brazoria County.

I am proud to say that the little bishop had very good behavior.  He did roll on some stinky stuff, and I guess I just have to live with that.  But, otherwise, he was a dreamy little dog.

I was lucky to find a cocoanut on the beach.  It wasn't good for eating, which I figured when I saw it.  But, that didn't stop me from picking it up and taking it home.  It was very stinky inside, just so you know.

We also drove by my brother's place to see if anyone was home.  They weren't.  The place looks good, though, doesn't it. New HardiPlank, and all.  

All Surfside has been sprucing up since the hurricane.  Surfside is not like New Orleans.  Surfside is rebuilding.  Better.  Without FEMA.

After running and playing for awhile we came home and took a nap.  You can see why I don't deny this little dog anything.  He is really a living vision of true love and unbounded joy.  His attention is steadfast, his loyalty sure.  There's nothing like this dog, that's for sure.

Carrie Prejean is The Devil.  There.  I said it.  And, lemme tell you, it needed saying.  You want me to tell you why?  Because you know I'm going to.

First Carrie Prejean, who is The Devil, said that she did not win the Ms. America contest because she is not in favor of marriage equality.  Well, that's just not true.  If her second-place status is due in any part to her answer on marriage equality, it was not because she failed to give the answer Perez Hilton would have liked.  It's because her answer was wrong.

Here are her exact words:

"Well, I think it's great that Americans are able to choose one or another. Um, we live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage. And, you know what? In my country and in my family, I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anybody out there, but that's how I was raised and that's how I think that it should be—between a man and a woman. Thank you!"

Let's just break that down into smaller pieces.  First there's this:  "Well, I think it's great that Americans are able to choose one or another. Um, we live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage..."   No kidding.  That's what she said.  American's have a choice.   Americans can choose same-sex marriage, or "opposite marriage."  Hummm.  That's news to me because we don't have marriage equality in my state, nor do we have marriage equality in any adjacent state, nor in any of the states adjacent to them.  In fact the nearest place I could marry the woman I love is Iowa which is four states and about 850 miles away.  Maybe it's just me, and I surly do not want to be one of those difficult lesbians, but that doesn't seem like much of a choice to me.  

And, I'll tell you something else.  You knew I would.  Even if I went all the way to Iowa, and if I  somehow found a woman who would agree to marry me, and if we actually got married, even then, there are over ELEVEN HUNDRED federal rights and benefits from which I'd still be excluded.   So, really, not only does that not seem like much of a choice, it makes Carrie Prejean, who is The Devil, wrong... just plain wrong.

But, of course, the good news is that Ms. Prejean didn't mean to offend anyone.  She actually said that.  Here it is:  

No offense to anybody out there,..."  

Nice touch, don't you think?  I have three things to say about that:

1. Bigotry is offensive.  It doesn't really matter much if you want it to be or not.  It just is.  Nice people agree on this.

2. Saying that she doesn't intend to be offensive did not magically make the answer correct.  It's still wrong.  There is no choice.

3. It is disingenuous to claim that you don't want to be offensive and then continue to be offensive.  Based on more recent statements, I don't think Carrie Prejean cared one wit about whether or not she offended anyone.

That seems like a flat-out lie to me.  And we all know who the Father of Lies is.  That's right, The Devil.

After the Ms. America Pageant, Carrie Prejean went on the James Dobson Tee Vee Show and claimed that she had been tempted by The Devil.  Who else?  

If you don't believe me, and I totally understand if you don't, here's a link to it.  She actually said that The Devil tempted her to give a namby-pamby answer.  But then, "  God was in my head and in my heart saying, "Do not compromise this. You need to stand up for me..."  

When I read that, I heard God in my head... Oh, wait... never mind.  It was just one of the voices.  

But, seriously,  you know what?  I'm OK with that.  People have their own relationship with God and I don't want to get into that.  It's for everybody to work out for themselves.  I am not even going to get into it, and you all (mainly) are smart enough that you don't need me to parse it out for you.  

The telling thing, though, is that she doesn't really seem to care whether or not she was offending anyone.  It sounds to me like once she decided on the man/woman answer she no longer really cared about anything else.  I think she knew that her answer was offensive and just didn't care.  I wish she would just tell the truth about that.

After she went on James Dobson and displayed her nutty and dualistic theology in front of all the world, Carrie Prejean wrapped herself in the flag claiming that she had been punished for exercising her right to free speech.  "This should not happen in America," she opined.  There were almost tears in her eyes.  But, guess what?  It didn't happen in America.   If she's been punished for exercising her undisputed right to free speech then I am Ms. America.   It just didn't happen.  She wasn't punished.  Didn't happen.

The reason Carrie Prejean didn't win the Ms. America is because her answer was wrong.  

The other reason Carrie Prejean didn't win is because she made people, lots of people, boo.  That's never happened during a pageant before.  Ms. America is supposed to be Ms. America for all Americans, not just the bigots.  It seems like if people are booing, that's a good sign that you aren't Ms. America material.  Just me.

After the pageant, Carrie Prejean crafted her image to appeal to a certain brand of Christians, Republicans, anti-choicers, marriage bigots, misogynists, and patriots.  You've got to hand it to her, that somehow includes just about everyone.  The future looks bright... and lucrative.  But, I tell you, this woman is The Devil.  Write down the date so you can remember when you first heard it, Carrie Prejean is The Devil.

Sweeny Pride Day

This is the day we observe the most sacred feast of Sweeny Pride Day.   I can't tell you when Sweeny Pride Day started, and I most certainly can't give you any reason for its existence.  I have my doubts as to whether or not this information is even available.  In any event, like the trinity, the nature of Christ, and the smoky undertones of PokeE Joe's BBQ sauce, I am unable to explain it.  

What I do know is that on the first weekend in May, come rain or come shine, the good citizens of Sweeny have a festival.  Most years there is a little carnival too.  And, in the old days, when I was a kid, there was a circus.   I wish we still had the circus.  I liked the circus.

You know it's a special day because the shops had sales.  They are mainly re-sale shops.  I sometimes wonder why anyone in Sweeny ever buys anything new.  It seems like with all the re-sale shops in town we should be able to just trade for whatever we need or want.  I have some lights in my study, for example, that Mrs. Narin gave me.  It was a good trade.  Only I didn't give her anything back.  But, if she ever wanted anything of mine.  Shoot, I'd probably give it to her.

Last night I posted some photos of the little carnival.  The carnival isn't getting much business. I think the $4 per ride price tag is keeping people away.  We are not an affluent community, after all.   In any event, I doubt that people are staying away in protest of the giving of live animals as prizes.  There's no PETA chapter here.  Not many protests either.

Some of you may never have seen a real live small town, least ways not one way down here south of the Mason Dixon Line.  This place has slave blood in its soil, and the complexities of white guilt and black pride that come with it.  On my way to Houston, I pass by at least three former plantations.  And, by plantation, I mean a place that had slaves on it.   I am not dealing in abstractions.   There's the Levi Jorden just up the road, the Mims Plantation a little further up, and the Abner Jackson Plantation over in Lake Jackson.   

Several years ago, when I was a student at the illustrious Sweeny High School, I thought it was enough to simply not be a racist.  I have learned a lot about race, being an outsider, and bigotry since then.   I've read a little more of the Bible and spent some time on The Mount, as in Sermon On The Mount. I know better.  You know, now.   I wish I had been a better advocate for  my black friends in High School.  In my defense, I was only a kid.  I truly didn't know.  And, during the teenage years, a little ignorance can be forgiven.  

I  don't think it's so easily dismissed when we are older though.   Shouldn't we be putting away childish excuses?   Yet, let me tell you what I noticed this afternoon when I downloaded my photos.   First there was a cluster of white people, then eight or ten shots or black people, then more white people, then a cluster of black people.  So, despite the fact that I've created a slideshow which reflects the diversity I'd like to show.   The reality is that as I walk

ed through the festival I was essentially walking through a segregated park.  It was a stark reminder to me that in Sweeny we still have a long way to go.

Some of what you may believe about small

 town America is true.  

We have the Second Amendment, for example.  And, as you can see, we are proudly passing it on to future generations.  Even I own a gun.  Yeah, I do.  I didn't take it to Pride Day, though.

Sweeny is not a center of academia, nor do we do innovative liturgy, and there are no theological controversies to discuss.  The theological spectrum is so narrow that it seems like all the Christians should just form one big church.  They all believe pretty much the same things:  God is angry about sin, Jesus will save you with his magic blood, atonement is a mere theory... there's about four of them there spiritual laws.  I get lost around about number two.  

The people you'll be seeing aren't the movers and shakers of the world.  They are the workers and the doers.   They teach school, refine petroleum, and  shop at Wal-Mart.  This is where life meets the road.  And look at them... they are shining.  Look at their faces, so full of life.

We are somewhat removed from the cutting edge down here.  The hair is from the eighties, and some of the thinking is too.  I saw a Pallin/Jindel/2012 bumper sticker yesterday.  Seriously. Oh well, I heard on The History Channel that the world was going to end in 2012 anyway.      

Despite everything, though, I think these people are beautiful.  So full of energy.  There's divinity in each eye.  

Maybe just getting together to remind ourselves how beautiful we all are is reason enough for this day.  Happy Pride everyone.  Make a feast all you beautiful people.  Happy Sweeny Pride Day!

There are a couple shots of the little bishop at the end.

I added some photos after the initial posting.

And I found one typo that was SO blood awful that I HAD to correct it 

and so i published yet again... Sorry for so many updates.  

If I'd update my blog more often maybe I'd get the hang of it.