Wednesday, April 8, 2015

I’m actually writing this on Saturday, the 11^th, and find that many of the details have escaped my memory.  But the days were too packed for me to write regularly.  Wednesday morning worship was led by Rev. Lena Laing, the woman beside whom I’ve sat for the last two years, who plays a mean tambourine.  We read Psalm 136 responsively, something I’d never noticed before.  Rev. Miriam Brooks-Malcolm brought the morning message.  Rev. Brooks would later lead an afternoon devotional service and she was kind enough to write down the words to four songs for me.  I will copy them in later.  She preached from Psa 136 and from Habakkuk; from what I could tell, the gist of her message had to do with Habbakuk asking how long and the Lord answering.  I thought she used Habakkuk 3:17 as the focus verse, concentrating on the omnipotence of God, despite external evidence.  She then continued on citing a series of Habakkuk questioning God about various tests and God’s responses, summing up with an admonition to look to the future, secured by the Promise of the God who is the Joy of Our Salvation! 

Conference business went on with Choruses by Evangelist Leslie (this may be where Rev. Brooks led the songs), followed by Pastoral reports from each of the main districts.  As I stated in previous years,  this CME church in Jamaica is composed of people from a variety of faith traditions.  Sometimes the Annual Conference (now to be followed by an annual Teaching meeting in November) is the place where they are introduced to matters of CME doctrine and polity.  Indeed, in his answers and discussions, I saw Bishop Reddick weave together Christian doctrine, Methodist history and tradition, and CME polity.  The disciplinary questions, then, took on an instructional aspect. Given my role as a teacher, and my thoughts on the importance of proper instruction both in general Christian formation and in the training of preachers, this is always of special interest to me.

At the same time, the Bishop addressed practical issues, even interweaving some of his personal experiences (this particularly concerning the “efficacy” of baptism and why there is never a need for a “second” one.  I could not listen to the discussion without being reminded of the Donatist controversy in the early church:  were the sacraments of “traditores” still effective?) .  What I took away from this is that people still, without proper teaching, are inclined to look  at the outward benefits or manifestations of Christianity without understanding the cost or commitment.

Bishop Reddick challenged the assembled group to procure/provide Sunday School literature for Jamaica for this 2015 year. (I have an idea to discuss with the missionaries about supplies for the kids in our schools, perhaps a better-thought-out-idea than the one about computers).

Bible Study was from Acts 8.  Yesterday we learned about Simon the Sorcerer and his cheap tricks.  The story continued today, again noting that he focused on external signs of Christianity, that he fell in love with the Power of the Holy Spirit, but not with the Cause or the Positive Effects of the Holy Spirit. Rev. Spragin discussed Simon, Philip, and the Ethiopian Eunuch (and, I believe Candake), once again in their socio-political context.  Apparently I got caught up in it, because my notes are nearly unintelligible.  Net net:  Philip used the presence of the Holy Spirit to speak about Jesus the Christ.  Likewise, when we preach, we need to do the same.  Preaching needs a subject and an object; the object is Jesus the Christ, and the Subject needs to (be able to) respond. 

He ended the study speaking of how, after converting the Ethiopian Eunuch, Philip moved to Ashdod.  Once there, his response was “OK, now that I’m here, what is it God wants me to do?”  He left us to ponder the question of who is God calling US to minister to, to preach to, and to Set Free?

My notes for the rest of the day are a bit jumbled.  We were visited by the McIntyre family from Georgia, and Rev. McIntyre brought us a word from Acts 8:26.  She spoke on a topic very close to my heart:  “It’s not the Destination, It’s the Journey.”

After another delightful lunch, we had group sessions, and after that we reassembled for business:  the Committee reported and there were various other reports.  Closing Worship was led by Mr. Rawlston Rowe, the District Lay Leader, and the evening message was brought by Brother Cosmo Grant, who came from Matthew 25:1-13.  His sermon title was “Ready Waiting.”  He told us that we are to be prepared, ready, and waiting to do what God calls us to do.  We will encounter those who are negative or unprepared, but if we properly prepare ourselves,  the Grace of God will get us through. Like the wise virgins, the church must hold on and stay focused.  He used an extraordinary sermon illustration to remind us how we must always Pray First, Aim High, and Stay Focused!!!

By now, the routine has settled in.  We go back to the hotel, have dinner, piddle around trying to post our pics, and go to bed.  I believe this is the night that I was able to Skype with Danny, and he got to see and greet Bishop and Mrs. Reddick and Pastor Burns.  I’m a little bummed to know that I won’t see him in CR; he has a gig and will be away, so I’ll hit CR on Sunday (if I ever remember to let Sophi know when I’m coming in), I think chill with her for a day or maybe go down to Quepos and go parasailing for Monday, then leave out early Tuesday morning for Tortuguero.  I should be back from Tortuguero on Thursday, and would like to chillax until I leave on Friday.  We shall see.

So Wednesday night was Wednesday night, and then we are heading into our last day of worship,  The final morning meditation was led by Rev. Gloria Rowe.  She took her text from Matthew 28: 1-20, reminding us of “Our Journey.”  We don’t know the day nor the hour, but Jesus is coming, so keep on journeying on.

Pics from the day can be found here:

Some videos can be found here:
Good News CME Youth Praise Dance, Pt. 1
https://youtu.be/iwAMB6Z0fcM

Good News CME Youth Praise Dance,Pt. 2
https://youtu.be/9XsA1LO9hCg

praise dance feat. Bishop and Mrs. Reddick
https://youtu.be/Hhroim0jIRA

Revive Us Again
https://youtu.be/YUMohOTtRN0

Don't come knocking, v.2
https://youtu.be/5RvAdsbaDBA

Don't Come Knocking
https://youtu.be/KxYlM8G12oI

Evangelist Gloria Leslie leads choruses
https://youtu.be/9oS2xQF6DfM

Even Me
https://youtu.be/qs_3S68kHo0

Break Every Chain/We Are Soldiers/I am a Warrior medley
Youth dancing
https://youtu.be/V7KpLhScoHQ

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Today was the first day of the 34^th  session  of the Jamaica Annual Conference.  It’s delightful to be here.  This time I’m in another oceanview room; last night I was a bit disappointed that it did not offer a view of the ocean.  Probably because of the time changes, the stress associated with traveling (especially thinking you were going to rendezvous with a group only to find out after they didn’t show up that plans had changed), and the abundance of processed food one finds when traveling, I woke up early this morning feeling like absolute crap.

So I wandered to the window and found an absolutely stunning view of the ocean!

(A link to more of the day's pictures is below.) As you can see, the view was spectacular.   It was so beautiful that I decided to go for a stroll along the beach.  For me, it’s a bit tragic to come all the way to Jamaica and have the only time you’re not in church be spent either as a consumer or having people serve you in hotels.  I like to get out and walk around, meet, and interact with people.  And while I love doing  it with the Saints, I also want to do it in a non-controlled environment.  Kinda.  So I went out walking on the beach.  There was a Rasta (or at least a guy with a Jamaican accent and dreds) walking around.  We spoke and went our separate ways. 

Spent some time walking the beach and, like Otis Redding, watching the waves roll in.  It actually helped the headache.  When I finally headed back to the room, I found myself falling at one point (I find the steps and the pavement here consistently uneven, and since my gait is not as synchronized as I’d like it, I do notice it.  It’s not usually a distraction, but this morning my head was somewhere else).  So I fell.  And I got up and went on.  It didn’t break the skin, and while there was some pain inside the knee, it didn’t appear to damage anything.  Since I’ve had operations on both knees and may someday have them both replaced, this (the fact that I didn’t hurt myself) was a minor miracle.  I limped back to the room, massaged and stretched the knee, took a hot shower and didn’t give it too much more thought.

Breakfast was a buffet with something that looked like cheese sandwiches,  banana bread, bacon, ham, fried dumplings, fruit (papaya, watermelon and pineapple), scrambled eggs, ackee and codfish, calaloo, and the yam/plantain stuff.  Delicious.  I have to watch my portions and end up tasting a little of everything, cuz it’s all so good.

Conferences are really interesting, and being around Bishop Reddick is quite fun.  I am admittedly and somewhat intentionally oblivious to politics in the CME Church; I do, however, enjoy watching people.  And I can often “see,” sense, or feel people on a spiritual plane.  Or something.  I can sometimes see who you present yourself to be as well as who you are and who you could be.  It’s quite an interesting process, and maybe it’s not a spiritual thing, maybe it just has to do with emotional intelligence. Whatever it is, Bishop Reddick seems to possess the same ability.  So breakfast was very interesting, not the least of which were conversations about his DUDS days and my rediscovery of the fact that he is a complete and total CME history geek!

We got to Good News CME Church about 9ish, I suppose, and after morning devotion (where PE and Host Pastor Colmie Simms took her text from 1 Kings 3:18-28, preaching on “Bring the Live Baby Back,” talking about how a spiritual death threatens to take us over, and we must bring the Live Baby back by drawing closer to the Lord), we made some brief presentations: Mrs. Reddick gave a gift to Mrs. Grant; Rev. Heath and Pastor Burns gave gifts to the kids and to Rev. Grant; I put the candies and all 1100 bracelets in the care of Rev. Grant.

The conference then started and continued on til mid-morning Bible Study.  The devotional was led by Rev. Christopher Bennett, and Dr. Ore Spragin, Jr. did Acts 8, 1-15.  Like any excellent Seminary professor, my twin Dr. Spragin broke open the text, historically, socially, theologically, and spiritually.  He located and identified Saul and Stephen and the Samarians, explaining how sometimes going into all the world as Jesus commanded may not appear the way we had conceived of it, but offering assurance that, if we continue on with God’s plan, that God will bless.

After Bible Study we were served lunch.  The US delegation along with some of the Presiding Elders and some of the primary schoolteachers ate in the Pauline B. Grant school cafeteria. It was rice and peas, some deliciously fried chicken, some escovietch fish, I heard there were oxtails, maybe some curried goat, and I don’t know what else (this, with the additions of a macaroni salad and some cole slaw, would be the menu every day).   I’d asked Bishop Reddick who could take me to get a sim card (even though Rev. Simms had offered me her phone, I’m going to be here longer and didn’t want to impose.  Plus I’d have to have cut her sim card to use in my phone, rendering it unusable for her.  I would learn later that her supply of phones is legendary, but at the time, I didn't want to inconvenience her). 

So as soon as I finished lunch we went to Black Water, about 15km away, for one.  We went first to the LIME office, because everyone says LIME is better.  Their computers were down.  Then we went to the Digicel office across the street.  They had no sim cards.  Then we went to another Digicel store which also had no sim cards.  Then Rev. Bennett called a Digicel store, took me on a 30 minute drive in the opposite direction, and I finally got a sim card!  I got some plan that gives me a GB or two but unlimited FB, Twitter, AppChat, and Instagram.  The sim, the plan, adding data and text all came to less than $20.00 US. The best coverage I could get on Digicel was 3G until the middle of the night; don’t know if it was less traffic or the fact that I rebooted the phone, but after I did that and took out and replaced the SD card (only because I wanted to copy my ipad movies to it), I suddenly, at 2 am, got 4G speeds.  I also know Digicel has 4G speeds in MoBay. 

A member of our delegation had asked me to get her some Alka Seltzer. So while I was in Black Water, I went into the drugstore to get some and the lady asked if I wanted it in a lotion or powder.  She heard “Aqua” something, and was trying to give me something for the skin.  When I asked her what she had for the stomach, she said she’d have to check to see if Alka Seltzer was a prescription medication.  When I told her it wasn’t and asked what she had for an upset stomach, she offered me Pepto Bismol and Xanax.  I would have gotten the Pepto, but they didn’t take US dollars.

We got back to the church just in time for Communion.  Rev. Clarence Kelby Heath preached from John 20:1-4, “Running to Find Jesus.”  He started talking about various runners, comparing Usain Bolt and Jesse Owens, but in the end saying that none of them was the best runner; the best runner was the one who runs for Jesus, with all their heart and soul, in every situation and circumstance, no matter what, and who is not deterred. It was QUITE the moving sermon.

We came back to the hotel for dinner of tossed salad, macaroni salad, peas and rice, pepper steak, steamed veggies, fried fish, and ice cream. I’m probably leaving something out.  It was good, and we all sat around talking for a while. (Velma Lois Jones has earned the right to eat her ice cream first, and I forgot to put in how Vanessee Burns ate my ice cream when we stopped at the Pelican.  But it wasn't very good, so she allowed me to eat some of it.  Between the two of us, we still didn't finish it.)

After dinner,  of course, we went into the lobby, the only place where the wifi seems to work. I can get wifi on my phone and my laptop, but not on my ipad which is where all the videos are.  So I stayed there until about 11 getting them off my ipad and onto my laptop (and hopefully later onto my hard drive.) I’ll probably have to wait until I get back to the States to upload them.

I was sitting with brother Cliff Harris trying to figure out why his Skype didn’t work and the Rasta guy from this morning came by.  He was high as a kite and spoke with a thick Jamaican accent, but I think he told me that he drives a boat and some guy give him a hard time and wanted to fight him and he didn’t know how to fight, and he hurt his hand, so he’s had a bad day.  But we made each other smile, so that was good.

That’s what I remember from today.  Nothing especially profound; in  the last 24 hours I’ve learned that it’s ok to let people be who they are, even if they’re unpleasant, unintelligible, or unbelievable.  Let them do and be them, and RESPECT who they are.  I also learned that I can drink a large coffee with no sweetener. 

Because the cell coverage is so bad, my phone doesn’t appear to connect to the network enough to even change the time.  I have no idea what time it is, but want to walk the beach tomorrow, so I’m calling it a night.

Today’s pics are found here:  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10205322162587403.1073741892.1048146180&type=1&l=5ba2f235e7

Additionally, some videos are found here:

He Touched Me
https://youtu.be/8ywB8mh1lfI

Rock of Ages
https://youtu.be/B6QP5U80ozI

There is a Fountain
https://youtu.be/SGe0FEDsPPs

There is Power Mighty In the Blood
https://youtu.be/-LrY3o_2rPA

All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name
https://youtu.be/hBsDxdhYXIg

Draw Me Nearer
https://youtu.be/IUbC9z0Ldj4

Hallelujiah!  What a Savior!!
https://youtu.be/CqgLdOSImtI

Monday, April 6, 2015

So Supershuttle came at 2:45, just as they said, for a 6:30 departure out of JFK.  Between the American/USAIr confusion, my passport not scanning, and the fact that USAir somehow didn’t have me down as TSA Precheck, I would have been prepared to have been annoyed except that one segment of the flight was first class.  That meant I got to check THREE bags (If I’d had three checkable bags) and the weight limit was higher:  70 lbs instead of 50.  There was food service on real china and wider seats.  I may have to do that again.

There were a variety of things going on:  the kids in back of me kicking the chair and their mother  insisting they weren’t;  the kids in front of me in First Class making noise; or the fact that I routed my flight through Charlotte because I thought that was where everyone was meeting, only to find that everyone had made their own individual flights,  which meant I could have gone directly to MBJ from JFK..

But we got here uneventfully.  No one from the Tourist Bureau to meet us, though the woman I talked to on the plane was met by someone who helped me through customs quite quickly.  We hung out for a looooong time then had some lunch, then headed to St. Elizabeth. 

This year, the US delegation was led by:
Bishop and Mrs. Lawrence L. Reddick, III, Senior Bishop and First Lady of the CME Church; Presiding Prelate and First Lady over the 8^th Episcopal District, which includes Jamaica.

The trip was ably coordinated by:
Ms. Beverly Ross, 8th Episcopal District, Beebe Tabernacle CME Church, Houston, TX.

Additional members of the delegation were:
Rickey Fontenot, 8^th ED; Sheeler Memorial CME Church, Houston, TX;

Clifford Harris, General Secretary of the Lay Department, 9^th ED, Pettie Chapel, Bixby, OK;

Clarence K. and Lakisha Heath, 8^th ED, Carter Metropolitan  CME Church, Ft. Worth, TX;

Dr. Judith E. Grant, Past President, Women’s Missionary Society; 7^th ED, Holsey Temple CME Church, Philadelphia, PA;

Velma Lois Jones, 1st ED; Trinity CME Church, Memphis, TN

Dr. Vanessee J. Burns, 8^th ED; Christian Chapel Temple of Faith, Dallas, TX

Dr. Ore L. Spragin, Editor, The Christian Index; 5^th Episcopal District and
Cassandra G. Perry, 7th ED; Williams Institutional CME Church, New York, NY. 

Once everyone had finally gathered, we stopped at a Mega Store for water and then at the Tortuga factory.  I started on what, in retrospect, seemed for a moment to have been an ill-fated search for a Digicell sim card. 

That’s all I wrote on the first day. I left out the group luncheon at the Pelican, the stop at the Mega Mart to get water and treats, and the first night's dinner at Treasure Beach.  Apparently I put the pictures for today and tomorrow all together, so I will put the links in both places,
Here is the link, which includes a variety of pictures from the journey in as well as the first day.  If the hyperlink doesn't work, just copy and paste this link:  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10205315586343001.1073741891.1048146180&type=1&l=0455de5107

Religious Freedom Restoration Act: Cassandraism

Since the country is in an uproar about religious freedom, I thought it would be appropriate for me to start a new religion.  I think I'll call it Cassandraism.  Cassandraism has but one central tenet:  Stupidity is anathema.  It would be bad to say that stupid people are little more than dingleberries on the butthole of humanity, and need to be eradicated at all costs, so I won't do that.  I will say that Cassandraism maintains that stupidity is a choice.  This has nothing to do with intellectual aptitude or cognitive prowess; the stupidity considered to be anathema by Cassandraism is the simple lack of, or failure to exercise, common sense.

For instance, Cassandraism will not approach a group of people who are attempting to abstain from their attachment to food and then coerce them to attend a banquet.  It won't pretend to honor people by making them pay for tickets and then seat them in general seating while reserving a dais for people who are not honorees.  In Cassandraism, when people do eat, they will will be trained to give thanks before doing so. 

Cassandraism considers the "Religous Freedom Restoration Act" to be one of a myriad of social phenomena which show a lack of common sense.  Of course everyone in America gets religious freedom.  Yes, that freedom even allows us to discriminate.  It does NOT, however, allow anyone to freely peddle that discrimination in public.  We live in a world where people are different from us.  

I happen to believe fervently and sincerely in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I don't happen to believe that Gospel needs me to capriciously shove it down people's throats, any more than I want, say, Scientologists proselytizing to me.  So we sort of accept the idea that we'll adopt some common rules that allow us all to get along together.  I can share my faith with you privately or in mutually-agreed-upon settings.  It's sorta like driving.  You can get on a private road or a specially designated roadway and do whatever you want, but on a public road there are rules you have to obey.  I personally don't like the fact that I have to slow down for people who drive 45 mph in the left lane; I think the world would be a better place if I could run everyone off the road who uses a passing lane as a travel lane.  But I abide by the rules of the road.

So it is with this Religious Freedom thing.  If you serve a god who demands that you consider and judge other people's sexuality as a prerequisite to social interaction with them, you have every right to do that.  You don't however, have the right to be out in public among civilized people, because that's not a civilized thought.  First of all, if someone else's sexuality is a significant factor in your religious practices, you probably either need to ask them for a date or go find a good therapist.  And if your judgement of their sexuality is a prerequisite to your being able to do business with them, I'd vote for that therapist...

Whatever the case, you get to believe and behave, within commonly accepted guidelines, any way you want.  But  you need to understand that all the people who don't believe or behave the way you do have just as many rights to their beliefs and behaviors as you -- sort of like how the person driving 45 mph in the left hand lane has just as much right to be there as I do, even though I'm going 80.

Now the rules of the highway say that people going at different speeds travel in different lanes, so they don't collide.  These are some of those commonly accepted guidelines, sort of like the speed limit.  It's an attempt to create a fairly common space on the highway -- those who need to go fast can do so; those who want to go slower can do so, but everyone moves ahead.

When you want to evaluate someone's sexuality before doing business with them, or if someone wanted to sacrifice a goat or a chicken before doing business with them, or if someone needed to do a coupla peyote buttons before doing business with others -- I suppose they could, but such actions are the equivalent of causing traffic jams, or cluttering up the common space on the highway.  They are not acceptable actions or behaviors in a diverse public area.  It's sort of like the religions that don't allow unrelated males and females to touch.  Such prohibitions simply do not work in a diverse society, so they need to either be modified, suspended, or abandoned when in the public arena.

Basically, Indiana, you don't get to do whatEVER you want to do.  You have to stop and think about other people. I know it's a difficult concept, especially if you believe your actions are Divinely justified.  And while God doesn't really need your help, if you're intent on representing God, well, Holy Thursday is coming up soon.  Why not go to your local homeless shelter and have a footwashing service? Not comfortable with that action?  Then why not start by doing things Jesus said, like feeding the sheep?  Why not feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or house the homeless?  From what I understand, Jesus spent a good deal of time with people with all kinds of sexual backgrounds, yet He never once turned them away.  Who are you to do that?

You want a Religious Freedom Restoration Act?  Start where Jesus did, feed the hungry and clothe the naked.  Start there.

The Demise of Parenthood

Parenthood, NBC's comfortably cozy series about the Braverman family, has ended after six years.  In one of those internet pseudo-magazines, Craig T. Nelson (who portrayed Zeke Braverman, the clan’s patriarch) is said to have been unhappy about the series ending.  (I had to read the article to understand that “ending” in this sentence was a verb and not a noun.) 

Mr. Nelson was unhappy that the series had to end.  While I share that sentiment (a bit more on that later), I am not at all unhappy with the way it ended.  Attempting not to spoil it for those who may not have seen it, I will simply say that what I saw was a celebration of life – its continuity, its ups and downs, and a testimony to the fact that, as long as we hold our loved ones in our hearts and memories, they live in our lives and in our love.
.

Those are the sorts of comfortable, cozy sentiments that made up much of Parenthood.  Yes, there was actual and potential infidelity; a couple of out of wedlock children; some substance abuse; there were family members and loved ones whose social abilities or sexual orientations were what some would call different – there were most of the myriad of issues and concerns normally seen in society, but they were all painted on a canvas of the family unit.  The Bravermans became a multiracial family.  Some may say that multiracialism was “whitewashed;” I would offer that it was simply subordinate to the theme of family. 

Which is why it’s so sad the story ended.  Dax Shepard, who played Crosby, the Braverman’s younger son, who began to walk into both manhood, fatherhood, and “husbandhood” over the last six years – Dax Shepard tweeted “Tonight is the series finale of Parenthood.  Best 6 years of my life J let’s all watch and try to equal the viewership of a kardshian rerun.”  I thought that tweet was quite powerful, as it summed up why it’s so sad the story ended.  We talk about all that’s wrong with entertainment, and all that’s wrong with our society, and all the negative influences.  Yet, when a good, wholesome show comes along, one with lovable characters, one that advocates love of family – when a good old fashioned, G-rated tv show comes on, what do most Americans do?  They turn to a show called “Scandal.”  Now I can’t pretend to know what “Scandal” is about, because I’ve never watched it.  But a quick check of its wiki shows that the main character is someone who’s having an affair with a politician.  I’m sorry – can someone explain why I’d want to watch a show about this when I don’t even watch the news?  And if this is the sort of stuff that’s in our news, why are we fantasizing about it?  Wouldn’t it be more productive to expend our psychic and spiritual energy on more positive things?

This is nothing against the writer, Shonda Rhimes.  I’m a tremendous fan of Grey’s Anatomy; not so big a fan of its spinoff, Private Practice, which was essentially a breeding ground for affairs of former Grey’s Anatomy characters.  Thankfully, that series (Private Practice) was short-lived.  I thought its short life sent a message that people preferred Ms. Rhimes’ more wholesome writing – and then I saw the Scandal ads, followed shortly by “How to Get Away with Murder.”  Why would anyone other than a criminal want to watch something with that name?  While I think Ms. Rhimes is brilliantly talented, I prefer positivity.  And never having watched “Scandal” or “How to Get Away with Murder,” I can’t definitely say they’re not positive.  What I can say is that their titles destroy any potential interest I may have had in the writer’s skills.

I can’t fail to mention the fact that “Scandal” and “How to Get Away with Murder” have almost cult-like followings.  The viewers call themselves gladiators – I don’t know what else they do to distinguish themselves – but seeing so many people galvanized behind these programs simply calls to mind the saying that “the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red suit with a pitchfork and a spiked tail.  The devil comes dressed as everything you’ve ever wanted.”

When we salivate over “Scandal” and “How to Get Away With Murder,” or when we’d rather be Scandalized than to contemplate the joys of Parenthood, I can’t help but wonder if the devil is sitting in a corner somewhere laughing?  In the interest of full disclosure, I am a "The Haves and the Have Nots" junkie.  I won't attempt to rationalize it here (although I do it in my head at least once a week);  I will simply say that the characters in The Haves and the Have Nots are human with human frailties, and also display the same dramatic and corrupt inclinations as others.  I continue to watch the Haves and the Have Nots because there is an underlying theme of hope and redemption, and because it gives open tribute to my own Christian faith tradition.

So. Back to Parenthood.   The way the storyline ended was, in my opinion, very skillfully done, and left the viewer with appreciation and celebration for the gift of family.  The cessation of the series, though, leaves me so, so sad.  I’m not sad only because a great series is no longer on the air (I have over 30 episodes on DVR); I’m sad because my thought is that its departure from our tv screens represents another departure, which is the  departure from our consciousness  of the strength, power , and sanctity of the family unit.  That family unit may not look the same in this generation as it did in generations past; family is who you say it is.  It’s the bond, the everlasting family bond that’s important.  In a world that wants to get away with murder, in a world that’s looking for the next good scandal, I fear we’ve overlooked the essentials -- the ties that bond us together, the things we celebrate and hold sacred, the relationships that make life worth living.  It's not about the drama, the scandal, or how to get away with murder.  After all, those are sort of "first-world" issues.  What's essential are some very common human themes -- love of family, the bond of friendship, and the trials and tribulations of parenthood.  All these relationships (Family, Friendship, and Parenthood) may look different today than they did a generation ago;  my definition of them may look different than yours, but they are relationships to which nearly all human beings can relate and which are cherished by nearly all human beings.

And that’s why Parenthood’s ending is such a sad occasion to me.  

Salaam, y'all

It was about 1 am on the morning of January 16, 2015.  I had literally been in the house less than five minutes when I started getting text messages, then Facebook Messenger messages.  I was just returning from a few days in Atlanta where I’d attended a Pastors’ Conference and visited friends and loved ones.  I wasn’t in the mood to spoil the temporary high, and so ignored the communications.

When I finally got up this afternoon, there were emails and Facebook posts about it.  The issue, it seems, is that my alma mater, Duke University, made a decision to allow the adhan, or the Muslim call to prayer, to be broadcast from the Duke Chapel Bell Tower, and then apparently bowed to political pressure and decided NOT to allow it.  I’ll admit that my first reaction was:  “wait a minute.  This is a Christian school.  Shouldn’t they be calling Christians to prayer?”  And while I am still of that opinion, that opinion doesn’t conflict with allowing the adhan.

If you know me, you know that I always thought I’d be a Yalie, and that Duke, one of my safety schools, offered a very prestigious scholarship which included a summer of study at Oxford in England.  While that did kinda trump Yale’s offer, there were two other considerations in my decision to attend Duke:  1) it was close to home and my grandparents were getting old (they would both die my freshman year); and 2) it was a Methodist school.  While I could hardly have been called devout during college, I had been trained well as a child:  one semester my studies included Modern Greek, Old Testament, and Religion and Theology of Black America (I remember tracing the history of the CME Church for that class).  I had no clear interest, desire or intent to pursue religious studies at the time; I’d fulfilled the requirements for my major, was working on a second major, and was simply taking interesting elective courses in other areas.  My running from the very obvious call on my life is another story.  The point is that, no matter the details of my wayward living, I was comfortable in the atmosphere of eruditio et religio, or erudition and religion, which is the motto of Duke University.

So my knee-jerk reaction was, “this is a Christian school.  Why are we doing an adhan?”  As I consider what I know of Islam, I don’t see the theological barriers to allowing the adhan.  Muslims, Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses and Universalists all are descended from the Arian way of thinking, and all have issues with the Divinity of Jesus.  If we wouldn’t bar the latter three, why bar the Muslims?  Yes, they are a different religion, but we are calling people to PRAYER!! Muslims, like Christians and Jews, are all spiritual descendants of Abraham.  Can we not come together in that unity?  This isn’t proselytism; it’s a call to prayer.  We are all People of the Book.  How can we deny our theological cousins the opportunity to pray?  While they call Him by the Name of Allah, we are all praying to the same God; how can we not allow people to be called to That God in prayer?

If you've ever been to a Muslim country and been roused from a sound sleep by the call to prayer, you know two things:  1) they can seem a bit disruptive at first, but 2) they represent a faith tradition that is VERY serious about its prayer life.  If you're like me, it led to 3) a re-examination of your commitment to your own prayer life.  When I hear the 5 am adhan, do I grumble, pull the covers over my head, and try to get a few more zzzs, or do I at least whisper a silent prayer instead of getting out of my warm bed and getting on my knees?  What about when I hear the 6:30 am call, or the 11:47 am call?  No?  How about the 2:30 or 4:30 pm call?  How about the 6:30 pm call?  This is a call to prayer, and while the call does bear witness to Muhammad as the messenger of God, the text of these calls begins and ends by stating that "God is the Greatest," and that "I bear witness that there is no God but God."  ("Allah" is simply the Arabic word for God.  It does not refer to a different divine being.  Arabic-Speaking Christians also sang and proclaimed "Allahu Akhbar," meaning "God is Great," while we were in a Christian worship service togther.)  The call goes on to call people to Hasten to Worship, and to Hasten to Success, encouraging them that Prayer is better than sleep, and then end by repeating the phases at the beginning, that God is the Greatest, and that there is no God but God.  How awesome would it be for every believer of the Abrahamic tradition, whether Christian, Muslim, or Jewish, to listen to, meditate upon, and perhaps be moved by these affirmations?!?  I do not believe Mohammad to be a messenger of God, so that piece is a bone upon which I would not feast.  But to have an audible reminder of the rest broadcast throughout campus would, I believe, have been a wonderful opportunity.  Handled appropriately, it could have been an opportunity for the campus to regularly call EVERYONE to prayer, something I'd bet money does not presently happen.

Somewhere along the way, I think many wonderful opportunities have been lost.  I happen not to agree with those who think this is an opportunity for Duke to continue its tradition of religious pluralism (only because that term is increasingly associated with some sort of theologically bastardized, non-offensive, spiritually impotent Frankenmonster).  Duke was founded, and I hope it continues its identity, as a Christian school, specifically a Methodist one.  The missed opportunity as I see it is the opportunity to see, learn, and understand that within Christianity there is not isolation, but inclusion.  The missed opportunity is the opportunity to see Jesus the Christ as one who came to tear down barriers imposed by traditional religious practices.  The missed opportunity is to see that this same Jesus spoke of “sheep who are not of this fold,” and, especially in light of our own Sacred Texts,  to consider who those sheep may be.  The missed opportunity is the opportunity to dialogue with people who love God but have differing Christologies. Refusing to allow the adhan at Duke represents a missed opportunity for interreligious dialogue, exploration, and learning.   

There is a missed opportunity for those who follow Jesus to provide hospitality to the non-Christian (“the stranger”) within our gates.  There is a missed opportunity for Christians to be exposed to an incredibly beautiful prayer call, and perhaps for Christians at Duke to become more regular and/or more intentional in their own Christian prayer practices.  (I recently posted video of a call to salaat that I filmed in Jerusalem.  It is hauntingly beautiful.)  While I understand the reported threats to the Muslim population, I believe that refusing to allow the adhan demonstrates rejection of the knowledge that perfect Love casts out fear, and a missed opportunity to walk proudly in conviction rather than bend to political or financial pressures.

But mostly, and most sadly,  the missed opportunity is one to show the world a Jesus with a heart filled with love and arms outstretched to welcome all who would draw nearer to God.

Arius the Converted Presbyterian

So I’m grading papers for church history.  The question is on the 4^th Century Arian-Nicene controversy, where the matter of the nature of Christ was hotly debated.  A student writes that Arius “switched his faith to Presbyterianism,” a statement so absurd I can barely speak it without laughing.  Not only is it historically impossible (Arius lived in Egypt in the late third/early fourth century; Presbyterianism evolved from the Protestant Reformation, specifically having been crafted in the mid-16^th century in Scotland.), but it’s clearly a malapropism.  Arius was a presbyter, or church official.  Probably because they were rushing to get a paper done, possibly because they didn't understand the material -- for whatever reason, the student clearly associated the word “presbyter” with the “Presbyterian” denomination.

So Arius “switching his faith to Presbyterianism” was my joke for the day, until I realized it’s not at all funny.  As I spoke with the student (who balked at failing the exam and insisted I’d told them all they needed to do in order to pass was to footnote properly – which, of course, they didn’t do) as I spoke with the student I realized their focus was not on learning anything, nor on gaining any perspective, but solely on the grade they were to receive.

Which led me to wonder how many “preachers,” for whatever reason, fail to completely understand what they read and/or study?  How many, instead of learning an appropriate historical context, simply make stuff up?  When one considers the possibilities, Arius the Presbyterian is no longer humorous, but dangerous.  How many other absurdities come out of our mouths while in the pulpit?

The Arian-Nicene controversy had, at its core, concerns about the nature of Jesus.  Arius the Converted Presbyterian speaks to the nature of those who would preach the Gospel – are you truly filled with the Holy Spirit?  Has God truly inspired you to speak that Word, or does it simply “sound good,” or have a hook that “will preach?”  Does it in some other way appeal to our human senses, rather than to our spiritual realities?  Are you bringing us a Word from the Lord, or just telling us what you think or feel?

Arius’ thoughts about Christ (that the Logos was of a similar substance or homoiousia as God) were pronounced anathema, then accepted, then finally pronounced anathema by most Christians (although Mormons, Unitarians, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Oneness Pentecostals (and a few of our Baptist brothers and sisters, if they are honest) still cling to the thought of two separate natures of Christ, or something other than “Fully human, fully Divine.”)  From those who considered Arius’ thoughts anathema, the Presbyterian church would evolve over a thousand years later.  In class, we like to point out that the Arian controversy went on for centuries, and at its core, the two factions were separated by an iota.  The fundamental difference was whether God and the Logos were of the Same substance (homo ousia) or a Similar substance (homoi ousia). 

As I look around and see more and more preachers performing inside the walls of their churches, and see more and people who are bound up by hunger and drugs and other forms of oppression (almost exclusively OUTSIDE the walls of the churches), I can’t help but wonder if their methods and actions will ultimately be considered orthodox or anathema.  I wonder about the power of the English letter "I" to keep the preachers separated from delivering the Good News to those who hunger and thirst for it?

Who knows? Perhaps they will all consubstantiate (or be sacramentally united) within Arius, the converted Presbyterian…

What I'm Eating Now

This is sorta random; a bit too long for a FB post, but something I want to document.  I've taken to using this blog as a de facto public electronic journal, so this posting is in that vein.

As I continue on the journey to optimum health and weight, I've finally enterado (or enterrado adentro*) the fact that results are as much about the fuel we put into the body as they are a reflection of the work we do with it.

So I'm probably in the process of upping my workouts to upwards of 8 hrs/week.  It's not just about the body; when I'm in classes, there's a constant struggle to exceed previously imposed limits.  That's as much mental as it is physical.  When I'm in the water or lifting, there's a focus, a clarity, and singularity of purpose that I welcome, even crave, but for which I find less and less time in this modern world full of distractions.

"...said the distracted woman."  Getting back to the point:  My weight and body fat are starting to move towards manageability, and not at the expense of my muscle mass.  I'm working out more, and am usually famished by the end of a two-hour session.  I've learned to carry bananas and yogurt for that quick fix, but need to have fast, healthy food on hand for when I get home.  Otherwise, I'd probably just do seamless, El Aguila, or some fast food chain, most of which would just defeat the purpose of having been in the gym.

When the weather's warm, I try to always have a big salad on hand, but I like to prep my food for the week, and am not very adept at storing cut veggies.  And if the salad's not pretty and fresh, I won't eat it, so tryna make a big salad doesn't always work.

I was surfing some vegan website recently and came across something that gave me the idea for my new staple food, which is what this post is about.  It's nutritious, quick, easy, and tasty, and I can make a big batch of it for the week.  It's basically greens and beans with some complex carbs thrown in.  The list of ingredients was originally just stuff I had in the fridge and needed to eat before it went bad; I spoze you could tweak this any way you want.

My pots always start with lots of garlic and onions.  I saute them in some EVOO, and add peppers, shallots -- whatever I have.  Then I add the greens.  First time around I think I used collards and kale, but tonite it was collards and spinach.  Remembering my friends in Brazil, I wash my bunches of greens, bunch or roll them up, and then slice or julienne the rolls, so I end up with strips of greens. I'm not chopping them, I'm slicing them horizontally across the leaves.  So I have this big mixture of collards and spinach, which I mix together again while washing again, and then add to the sauteing onions.   (I save part of the greens for making my Nutriblasts during the week, and find that cutting them cut into strips makes it a lot easier to get other stuff into the bullet.  But that's another digression.)

So we have onions/garlic and greens sauteing.  Last week I used some leftover cooked brown rice in this thing.  I was thinking that quinoa would be a better option, and this week decided to try some Goya product that is a quinoa/brown rice mixture.  While it serves the purpose, it is prepared food, and as such has way too much salt for my taste (another distracting aside:  when did salt become a food group rather than a taste enhancer?  What is it with putting salt on EVERY. FREAKING. THING?  Can we distinguish no taste but "salty?").  While the greens were sauteing, I prepared the quinoa/brown rice mixture mostly according to the package instructions, although I tend to add a bit more water because I don't like my quinoa too hard.  After the quinoa cooks, you're spozed to let it sit for a few minutes. During that time, I added the black beans to the greens, and when it had finished sitting, the quinoa mix.

It was so good I had to write a blog post about it.  As I said, it's quick, it's tasty, and I can now put it in the fridge for the rest of the week. If I want meat, I can add some of that leftover turkey; if I don't want meat, I can eat it as is.  When I come home hungry, all I need to do is nuke it a coupla minutes, and I have my green leafies, my complete protein, and my complex carbs.  That's worth writing about.,

And on that lovely note, my friends, I am turning in....


*"Enterar" is "to learn," but "enterrar" is "to bury."  At some point I've come to associate the notion of complete learning with "enterrando adentro," or "burying something inside yourself."  Not sure if it's an idiomatic expression or if I've mis-heard something and created my own malapropism.

Where Does It End?

The following article was written in August 2014 and published as a general submission in the August 2014 edition of 
"The Christian Index, The Official Organ of the Christian Methodist Episcopal Church."
The expressed opinions are my own and not those of the CME Church.

While they are horrific, it's not just the constant killings of unarmed black men that's the problem. It's the consistent, systematic devaluation of the black person in American society. That's the problem. As unpopular as this position may be, I think a large part of that problem begins with us.  The internal forces that tear us apart: black on black crime, lack of education, spiritual malaise, complacency regarding social inequity - those forces leave us, as a people, weakened and an easy target for the external forces that would destroy us.  When we refer to our females as dogs and garden tools, and when our males kill one another over a misdirected glance, what message do we send about the value we place on our own black lives? When we constantly assault and fill our senses with messages of black people as lawless gangsters and thugs, what message do we deliver about the value of our black lives?  If we place no value on black lives, and if we are not collectively appalled and called to action by the non-publicized atrocities that occur in our communities EVERY DAY, then how much integrity is in our protests when an outsider defiles or murders one of our own? Have we not done or tolerated the same thing on a regular basis?

In no way is the intent here to blame the victims, nor to justify, minimize nor diminish the state of siege under which Americans of color often find themselves.  Rather, I am suggesting that people of color need not always assume the attitude of victim, no matter the external circumstances.  I’m suggesting we begin to recognize and avail ourselves of the existing opportunities in a society that revolves around power. We as a people HAVE power, but we give it away bit by bit, leaving ourselves open to be ravaged by those who can or simply will do so.  America, for the most part, is driven by economics.  African-Americans are projected to have a collective buying power upwards of $1,000,000,000,000 – one TRILLION dollars – in 2015.  Yet corporate advertisers spend little time, money, or effort marketing to the African American community – they know they’ll get their share of that money whether they advertise to that market or not. They know our collective memory is short:  we filled the streets protesting the Trayvon Martin injustice, but still flocked to Florida’s shores for vacations and continue to drink its orange juice for our breakfast.  We know that people who neither know nor care about our communities control the corporations that produce the media which  projects negative stereotypes of our community, but we download the tracks, buy the CDs, sing the songs, and go to the movies, anyway.  As long as we fail to use our collective strength, we send the message to others that all is well and there is no reason to change.  Why should an advertiser pay for a share of the African American market if statistics show they will likely get a share of it without even acknowledging African Americans in their marketing?  When the taking of black lives is met with the collective strength of the black community, perhaps then we will see some sustained change.  Why is it that the shootings in Norwalk, CT precipitated Congressional hearings, but the genocide in our communities is ignored?  When there is a connection between the taking of black lives and the deprivation of the collective black buying power, I believe a shift will begin to occur. 

“Why do ‘they’ do it?” doesn’t seem to be the question.  “Why do we allow it to continue?” or “How do we stop this?” seem more appropriate questions.  I’m concerned about a continual outward gaze in our communities.  I’m concerned that when injustice against us is exposed, that we always look to the oppressors (as if somehow they could be expected to behave any way other than oppressively).  Why must we wait until tragedy happens before we act, and why must we only focus our attention outward, at the injustices that have been committed against us?  This question in no way minimizes the specific tragedies that occur far too often; the question attempts to get at a larger issue.  What steps can we, as followers of Christ and as people of color, take to affirm the sanctity of black life?  What changes can we make in our pulpits?  In our Sunday Schools?  In our economic endeavors?   In our Local, State, and National politics?

As a resident of major urban center, I am routinely infuriated not only with racism, but with the hypocrisy and ignorance that accompany it.  Born and bred in the rural south, racism has always been a fact of my life; it's a system one attempts to learn to navigate, with the hope of ultimately dismantling or overthrowing it. Racism was there when we were the first kids in town integrating an elementary school. But the love, the pride and the support we got in our homes and our communities was SO much more powerful than the racists, even when they attacked our homes in the middle of the night, and even when they physically confronted us. No, everyone didn't live through the skirmishes and the physical confrontations, but when one person occasionally fell, others sprang up to take their place. We were a people united -- we couldn't be defeated.  When we thought we couldn’t stand, the wisdom, knowledge, and strength of our community supported us. We thought of ourselves as trees planted by the waters, and we would not be moved. 

I'm not minimizing the wrong others do, nor the effects thereof.  I have come to believe that it is not the goal of people of color to attempt to change others’ racist views.  It is the goal of people of color to instill and reinforce the truth among ourselves, despite what the dominant culture may think.  It is the business of people of color to acknowledge, affirm, and act to honor the sanctity of ALL our lives.  Racists will say and do racist things; that’s their nature. But others’ racism need not define us.   Attention should not be called to the plight of people of color in the US only when a wrong is committed against a person of color; that is a form of giving away our power. Rather, people of color would be well served to systematically and routinely celebrate our rich heritage; our many accomplishments; our communally undergirding, if disparate, faith traditions; and our nearly superhuman progress by surviving and thriving in a strange land.  We would be well served to move forward continuing to build on that foundation.  We as a people have so much to celebrate, so much to be thankful for!!  We have myriad reasons to march and celebrate without atrocities being committed, and reasons come together on one accord other than when something horrible has happened.  I'm looking to see more of the right we do for ourselves. I think that's a better place to start, and not reactively, not necessarily proactively, but simply because we love ourselves that much. 

A Gift

It was late summer, 2003.  I’d just had a party celebrating my new coop, graduation from seminary, and another birthday.  One of my dreams in NYC was to live near green grass and trees, in a doorman building.  Not only did I get that, but this place was catty-corner from a park that had a SWIMMING POOL!!! There was only one logical course of action:  to go there and swim.

Whether normal or note, massaging the breasts when changing is an habitual, and possibly life-saving act for me.  I’d had the routine mammogram several years earlier when I turned forty, but found it so painful that I vowed never to go through it again.  But here I was 7 years later and there was something in my booby that didn’t feel right.

It took three weeks to get an appointment for a mammogram, even with a lump.  I think I saw a surgeon during that time; I remember picking her because her name was Faith.  While she thought the wait a bit unusual, she reassured me that it was “probably nothing,” and that 3 weeks were not likely to make a difference if it did turn out to be something.

It did, of course, turn out to be something.  There was a cancer growing in my breast, one that required two or three surgeries just to get it all with good margins, another two surgeries to get I think the sentinel node and then all the lymph nodes; and a fifth (unsuccessful) surgery to attempt to implant a PICC line for me to receive chemo.  I ended up getting the chemo with a new IV stick every other week for six months, followed by six weeks of daily radiation therapy (one dose, they said, was equivalent to spending a week at the beach), followed by five years of oral chemotherapy.  During treatment, I lost my taste for all food except watermelon, mango, and pineapple; I lost every follicle of hair on my body;  I learned that yes, I can get dry heaves; and I learned that sometimes you have to take your medicine.  I learned that breast cancer is the only one for which there is no “cure;”  other cancers are considered to be in remission after 5 years, but breast cancer is equally likely to return at any time.

During my treatment, two coworkers were diagnosed with cancer, both after me. One was diagnosed also with breast cancer and ended up with a radical double mastectomy; another was diagnosed with stomach cancer and subsequently died. A cousin who had struggled with breast cancer for years also died during this time.  All three of these women had offered love, care, and support to me upon my diagnosis, none of us knowing they would experience outcomes far more severe than mine.

At first diagnosis, I was really mad with God. “What happened?!?”  I screamed as I punched a wall.  “I’m spozed to be your girl! How can you do this?!?!”   At that point, the sacrifice of Jesus was brought to my remembrance.  “Yeah, but I’m not Jesus.  I’m me, and I don’t do the whole pain and suffering thing well.  You KNOW that.”  And then I was gently reminded that “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.”  I decided right then that I didn’t want to suffer.  So I didn’t.

All the above is background.  People often remark on my joie de vivre, my zest for life.  While I don’t choose to advertise it, my life is probably about as bland and as normal as anyone else’s, jumping out of planes and ziplining through the rainforest notwithstanding.  I’m always aware that each day could be my last – not necessarily from the cancer, but because I live in NY City.  But at some point during the months of surgeries and chemotherapy, I wrestled with questions about quality of life.  Is it worth it to be brought literally to the point of death and kept there for a while to kill a parasitic mutant inside your body?  Or is it perhaps better to live each day to the fullest, and be prepared to go Home whenever one is called?

I suppose the answer is a matter of personal preference.  I don’t know that I’d choose to go through chemotherapy again; if a more aggressive form of cancer were to return, the likelihood of my undergoing the regimen would likely decrease.  I say that, but at the same time, I’m very careful to maintain top shelf health insurance, just in case I need it.

All of which is hypothetical.  Though I'm not very good at it, I do try to live in the moment.  I'm a bit better at my attempts to live as healthily as I can (I’m not rigid and there are no absolutes; but it’s a lifestyle that actively embraces life). I recognize each day as a precious gift from God, and attempt to make the most of it.  I recognize that, even in the midst of physical, spiritual, psychological, emotional, financial, romantic, or any other kind of mess into which I could conceivably get myself – in the midst of all that, at the center of all that, is a God who is working things out, and through Whom all things work together for my good, given that I love Him and am responding to the call according to His purpose. 

There’s a lot to unpack there.  In a nutshell, sometimes the things I want don’t work out because they’re not the things to which God has called me.  And sometimes the most bizarre seeds get planted in my head or elsewhere and work out in equally unlikely ways, ways that could only, in retrospect, have been orchestrated by God. 

Like being ecstatically happy, then finding you have cancer,  and then leading worship in the midst of treatment, finding a way to encourage the kids who are freaked out by your bald head.  And though I’m not a fan of tats, I thought it was interesting that one of the kids decided to get the words “Trust God” as his first tattoo.  I like to think they’ve seen me trust even in the midst of uncertainty, and that they are able to trust a bit, themselves.  I’m not naturally a very trusting person; only an omnipotent God could use me to exemplify trust to a child.

But that’s the gift.  It is a gift to be used fully and completely, to pour oneself out in the doing of God’s work, not because of some expectation of reward in this life or in the life to come, but simply because one has been afforded the privilege to do so.  This thing we call life is a gift, and to live it to the honor and glory of God is quite the privilege.  And though I regularly fall miserably short of the mark, I’m quite grateful for the gift.