No Perestroika Here in the Diocese of Minnesota

I ran across the old joke about two ambassadors challenging each other to a foot race. The Russian newspaper, Pravda, reported that the Russian ambassador "came in second while the British ambassador came in next to last." The Washington Post reported the same event this way: "The British ambassador came in first while the Russian ambassador came in last."

It's this sort of journalism that makes reading the Weekly News for the Diocese of Minnesota an adventure in one-sided activism. Two years ago when the Bishop from the neighboring Episcopal Diocese of Eau Claire spoke on behalf of the Minnesota Anglican Connection, the orthodox fellowship in the Diocese, the Weekly's editor deemed the event "irrelevant" to the Diocese, and refused to publish even one word about the event. What he did consider relevant for the issue that week was photo coverage of Minneapolis' Gay Pride Festival. This week, the same Bishop is featured in a front-page photo after an ordination. What's the difference? The ordination took place at St. Paul's on the Hill, which is noted for its sponsorship of gay events and where the rector's sexuality is--you guessed it--activist gay.

With selective reporting like this, one thing is sure: the truth definitely comes in last.

When "he" does NOT mean "she"

I had an interesting e-mail exchange today with a woman who plays a role in clergy deployment. She clings to what she calls "the King's English," saying she will never bow to the "tripe" that "he" is anything but "universal." Which would be fine, I suppose, if "he" ALWAYS meant "he or she" in the King's English, but it doesn't. Sometimes "he" most definitely means only "he."

With AMiA or Nigerian-connected churches, for example, "he" in their job descriptions for priests refers to males ONLY: no women need apply. So what's so hard about a little linguistic clarity? Using "he or she" when either a male or female is intended logically reserves "he" for those occasions when only a male is intended. Any writer preferring to remain gender-non-specific can always resort to using "they."

Clinging to this deployment person's use of what she calls "old-fashioned" language isn't a strike for traditional theology; it's a strike for linguistic confusion. One might hope that she will one day recognize the value and precision of the Queen's English, as well as the quaintness of the King's.

Tasty Bone #4

As we zoom through the final week of Epiphany, the Archbishop of Canterbury's Advent Letter may seem like ancient history. Still, a few more tiny bones remain to be picked, in the bit-by-bit, SHORT format to which this blogsite is committed.

Furthermore, serious concerns remain about the risks of spiralling disputes before the secular courts, although the Dar-es-Salaam communiqué expressed profound disquiet on this matter...

This, indeed is a tiny taste bone, causing us to savor more what might have been, rather than what is. Millions of dollars' worth of the offerings of the faithful are being squandered in law suits, and this merits only "serious concerns?" Here is where the Archbishop of Canterbury would do well to set a pre-condition for accepting his invitation to Lambeth: the immediate cessation of all lawsuits for this "meeting for prayer, mutual spiritual enrichment and development of ministry."

A Hopeful Sign

Johnny Weir leaves St. Paul today with a silver medal from the USA Men's Skating Championships. He gave a career-best performance, and it was only obscure rules for breaking ties that gave the gold medal to rival Evan Lysacek.

Almost more astounding than the double 244.77s on the scoreboard was Johnny's gesture after his free skate: Johnny made the sign of the cross in the Russian Orthodox, right-to-left tradition. Just a few words into his post-skate interview, Johnny quickly advised that he is "not at all religious." Still, his playing with this symbol of piety gives hope for his future.

In the last few years, the flamboyant Johnny Weir has seemed to be in a desperate search for self, exploring all sorts of human venues and vices. He has come to love the "Ruskaye Dusha" ("Russian soul"), even speaking the language with his coaches and eating blini and swilling vodka with the best of them. If some devout Russian Orthodox soul could cross his path memorably, perhaps we might see the first of a number of desperately-needed celebrity conversions. And what a good thing that would be--for the celebrities themselves, and for all who watch them.

Stations of the Lost

With Ash Wednesday just only twelve days away, your clergy may be fine-tuning their plans for special liturgies for Lent and Holy Week. Here's one to miss: straight from 815's Office of Young Adult Ministries: "Stations of the Millennium Development Goals."

Replacing all that pious focus on the betrayal, trial, scourging, crowning, and nailing of Jesus, "worshipers" are channeled through the following stations:

Station 1: Prepare bag lunches to be distributed to those in need the next day.

Station 2: Create an uplifting card to send to a church school in the developing world.

Station 3: Brainstorm for the names of inspirational women. Tape the lists of names together to form a scroll to be read during the corporate worship time.

Station 4: Provide black and white drawings of children’s faces to color. While the the pilgrims are coloring, ring a bell every fifteen seconds to represent the death of another child from a preventable water-borne illness.

Station 5: Ask each pilgrim to write the name of every woman they know who gave birth during the past year. When the list is complete, draw a black cross next to the name of every 16th woman, symbolizing that one in 16 pregnant women die from childbirth complications in sub-Saharan Africa.

Station 6: Using a white bed sheet and ink pad, have a pilgrim make a hand print every thirty seconds, symbolizing how many children are dying from malaria worldwide.

Station 7: Have pilgrims calculate their carbon footprint and come up with three strategies to reduce it.

Station 8: Have pilgrims sign and address postcards to members of Congress urging support for the Millennium Development Goals.

While it's commendable to stimulate compassion for all the suffering in the world, the "Stations of the Cross" is a sacred devotion that moves worshipers to comprehend the sufferings of Jesus that he endured to heal the sin of the world. To co-opt the "Stations" into an experiential sensitivity-training session is a vile desecration of this liturgy and the church buildings in which they will be held.

Why not leave these stations for some secular assembly? The stations are completely devoid of scriptural content, so they would be welcome even at a gathering of atheists. If I were inclined to this sort of charade, I would want to add one more station to the parade:

Station 9 : Have each pilgrim tear out a page from a Bible, symbolizing the gutting of Christian belief.

A Prince of the Church

The Diocese of Minnesota has been forced to make cut-backs in more and more staff and programs over the past few years. True and gracious leaders embrace the difficulties of the rank and file, and not flaunt their access to the privileges reserved for the lofty few, yes? Yesterday, Bishop Jelinek announced that he will be taking yet another sabbatical.

If his spiritual well-being truly demands extended time away from the Diocese in order to "reflect upon what lies ahead," (he will be retiring soon) one would think that something along the order of an Ignation retreat at a convent or monastery might be in order. Au contraire: Bishop Jelinek's sabbatical itinerary includes escaping Minnesota's cold in order to study Spanish in the warmth of the Honduras, and reconnecting with a Shinto sect and other friends in Japan. And what urgent church responsibility does the Bishop consider worthy of interrupting this particular tour? Attending the House of Bishops' meeting in March is the only item to claim his attention. This last choice, of course, reflects the priorities of his entire Episcopate: politicizing in the House of Bishops and secular elections, rather than tending the flock at home.

Working up to his glorious retirement--this sabbatical smacks of squeezing every last possible drop from a Diocese that his already compensated him royally. And his personal secretary is taking a sabbatical as well!

Not Just Another Choice

A large, local Lutheran church here generated some buzz by canceling all church services last Sunday. Given the morning off, church members were encouraged to take part in a variety of service projects throughout the community, such as helping refugees, shut-ins, or environmental clean-up efforts.

While it's a great idea to motivate Christians to walk the talk and bring Christ into the world through hands-on outreach, to do so in lieu of worship services misses the purpose of the Sabbath as a day of rest holy to the Lord. Sunday worship isn't just one of many good things one can do in the world. Rather, it's the fundamental tune-up of the whole person. It's the most important part of the minimum, standard maintenance schedule. It's the weekly call "home" that keeps our life on the optimal path. It is sacred downtime that makes right actions in the world possible. Honoring it is one of the Ten Commanmdents.

I'd be fascinated to know: how many people followed through with the suggested outreach projects and how many just pulled the down comforter overhead for some extra sleep or spent extra time with the Sunday morning paper? Even if 100% of the church's membership participated in an outreach project last Sunday, that was no keeping of the Sabbath.

Conviction

Later today, I'll derive satisfaction from toodling over to the Police Department to sign an affidavit towards the prosecution of the woman who went on a spending spree with my bank card. She was arrested while trying to pass off a check forged from my checkbook that her accomplice stole when he broke into my car during church services a couple of weeks ago.

This is ho-hum business for the city police here. Despite her lengthy rap sheet, Ms. Misty Presler would likely not see jail time here because of the crowded conditions in the Twin Cities jails: "non-violent" offenders are rarely incarcerated. Not so in the rural county where the break-in and bank-card spree occurred. Most likely, the cases will be combined, and Ms. Presler probably will face real justice up north.

The parishioners up there are hoping that Misty will, indeed, land in their brand, spanking-new jail. One of the them works at the jail, and apparently there are a variety of ways that the community there can interact with inmates. I had been praying that the thief would experience spiritual conviction and begin to turn her life around. It seems that legal conviction might not be a bad way to start that hard educational process. Please send a pray on Misty's behalf, as well as for our various constabulary networks that keep the wheels of justice turning.

On National Heroes

I've happily done my share of "I Have a Dream" sermons over the years, and having served an Alabama church in which a majority of the parishioners were Black, I have a particularly keen sense of how crucial the MLK commemorations have been to the over-all well-being of our nation.

Yet--this past July, I realized that we have gone too far and skewed our priorities once again. My family and I were attending an Independence Day celebration in our community. There was a video presentation in which school children were asked either who wrote the Declaration of Independence or who wrote the Pledge of Allegiance. Out of a dozen or so children individually asked these questions, exactly one got an answer right. This is not what's surprising, for the children were young, and the answers, especially to the second question (Francis Bellamy!) require a little sophistication. What was surprising was how many children guessed the answers to be "Martin Luther King." Among the "I don't knows," only two children offered "George Washington," and none of them--not even one--ventured an "Abraham Lincoln" or the correct "Thomas Jefferson." Five, however, guessed "Martin Luther King."

George Washington was one one the greatest leaders that has ever walked the planet, and Abraham Lincoln was not far behind. Yet, commemoration of these great heroes is lost in a Presidents' Day generally noted only by a vacation from school. MLK Day, on the other hand, is marked with assemblies, posters, coloring worksheets, documentaries, and other kid-friendly teaching tools guaranteed to imprint Martin Luther King on students' minds. Now--if we can only do the same with George Washington, Abraham Lincln, and Thomas Jefferson, we'll be on the path to restoring appropriate national pride in our beloved United States of America.

Twenty-first Century Assumptions

It was one of those funerals that bring deep satisfaction in the midst of sadness: the deceased was highly-committed to his faith and his church, he had lived a long and full life, and he was ready to sail on to the opposite shore. His wife was gracious and bearing up well under the stress. As expected, there was a very large crowd, so large, in fact, that the deceased had wisely arranged before his death to hold this celebration of his life in a much larger church, in a nearby community.

Everything went well, and the members of the extended family were all very pleased. One middle-aged relative of the deceased, a family man, an out-of-towner, and not an Episcopalian, walked over to me during the luncheon and began to chat. After a few pleasant conversational volleys he continued, "So what does your partner do for a living?"

"Partner?" I queried, genuinely confused. "You mean my husband?" He stammered affirmatively, and our pleasant conversation was soon back on track.

It was only later, on the drive home, that I realized what this kindly gentleman had assumed. It used to be that as a woman priest, I was always presumed to be theologically and politically liberal in my outlook. Those erroneous assumptions had always been annoying enough. Now, thanks to General Convention 2003, the presumptions go even further. I am assumed to be a lesbian, at least by some well-intentioned people, just by virtue of being a female Episcopal priest with no husband readily on site.

This was a first for me, and I thought of the two young, very heterosexual, single men once telling me how they hated the assumptions that acquaintances made when they learned that the two were roommates. While it used to be that people would assume that two bachelors shared an apartment in order to save money, that is no longer the case.

My, how things have changed. Thanks, Gene Robinson; you've created quite a reputation for our church, and helped to lead the general public even more astray.

Tasty Bone #3

Now that the Christmas holidays are over, it's time to get back to considering the Archbishop of Canterbury's Advent Letter in the bit-by-bit, SHORT format to which this blogsite is committed. To ease back into this work, we start out with a BIG and tasty bone:

The Instruments of Communion have consistently and very strongly repeated that it is part of our Christian and Anglican discipleship to condemn homophobic prejudice and violence, to defend the human rights and civil liberties of homosexual people and to offer them the same pastoral care and loving service that we owe to all in Christ's name. But the deeper question is about what we believe we are free to do, if we seek to be recognisably faithful to Scripture and the moral tradition of the wider Church, with respect to blessing and sanctioning in the name of the Church certain personal decisions about what constitutes an acceptable Christian lifestyle. Insofar as there is currently any consensus in the Communion about this, it is not in favour of change in our discipline or our interpretation of the Bible.

Thus, the Anglican Communion as a whole currently disapproves of changing our traditional approach to the interpretation of scripture and consequent discipline with regard to homosexual activity. But we might not be able to say this a year from now IF too many Orthodox primates of the world boycott Lambeth. Please, Primates, with your vast delegations of honorable bishops: go to that nifty gathering in the Holy Land and proceed with formulating Plan B, but then go and do your time in Lambeth as well. Let's not abandon Plan A while we're ahead. And should Rowan Williams not see the light and invite ALL your bishops, let them come along to the door of Lambeth so that will be available in a consultative role to you and others, outside of the meetings.

Comes with the Job

I needed a particular liturgical vestment. Fast. My usual catalog vendor couldn't ship it to me in time, so I set out to my local purveyor of church goods.

After trying on the available selection in stock, it became clear that nothing fit quite right. The sales clerks, one young and the other approaching retirement age, were genuinely sympathetic. "You know, we used to carry women's vestments, but some of our clientele protested, so we had to get rid of our stock. Roman Catholics priests are getting more and more conservative these days."

Ah the joys (not!) of being a conservative priest of the female persuasion: equal opportunity inconvenience from both the right and the left. But then, the elderly clerk offered this amazingly kind solution to my problem. "Tell you what we'll do. You take this cassock, take good care of it, and bring it back after the funeral. I'll then credit the amount you paid towards ordering a cassock that really fits." Ah the joy (yes!).

So, now I'll be acceptably clothed for the unexpected funeral next week, and then I'll order the vestment that will be the apple of my eye. And I'll derive a bit of perverse satisfaction in the secret knowledge that some Roman Catholic priest will one day clothe himself in a sacred garment that once covered the body of a woman. I hope it's one of the stodgy guys who complained about the women's vestments that used to be displayed in the store.

Cooties! You're it!

Readjusting our Spiritual Default Settings

Like many resolution-makers and Rule-of-Life setters, I like to use January as a time intentionally to readjust the default settings in my weltenshaung. As I peer into the future, Baby 2008 seems to have a particularly ugly cast of characters lurking around the playpen.

With KGB-nurtured Putin re-enlisting mental hospitals as a place to stash and squelch political dissidents in Russia, that old bastion of godless communism seems once again to claim the highest ratings as an epicenter for spiritual warfare. Well-funded Islamic missionaries increasingly are claiming African orphans and others drifting outside existing Christian institutions' ability to provide education, jobs, a network of friends, and marriageable women. In the United States, Islam is the darling of the political correctness machine on our campuses: here in Minnesota, taxpayer money is being used to build an Islamic chapel complete with foot-washing facilities, while the construction of any sort of Christian chapel is forbidden as violating the Establishment Clause.

These are just a few of the serious issues deserving our highest level of attention, yet self-absorbed morality-innovators have hi-jacked our churches and spiritual energy in their narcissistic efforts to normalize, bless, and promote deviant behavior. It's time to avoid continued distraction from checking the traditional enemies of the Christian foundations that undergird Western society at its best.

One definition of insanity is repeating the same action, yet expecting a different outcome. Orthodox Episcopalians have dedicated tankloads of ink, continents of cyberspace, and years of conventions trying to persuade the religious left to come home to Biblical Christianity. As the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink, no matter how hard you try. With God, nothing is impossible, yet still, much is possible in the human sphere with a wise allocation of our energies.

So, IMHO, how should the mental landscape for Orthodox Anglicans change in 2008? Let's get real and focus our energies in the areas we have neglected in our reactivity to the moral innovators. Let our prayers continue and actually redouble in their direction, for the spiritual havoc they raise is insidiously and pervasively destructive. Yet, let's not get outwardly stuck in battles not of our choosing.

Choices and Consequences

Years ago, I was involved in a charity project that required me to take several trips to a rural area in Mexico. As I rode the public bus over bumpy, mountainous roads for hours on end, I tried very hard to look and act like the local people. Let's just say that at one inch shy of six feet tall and with blondish hair and blue eyes, I was never very successful at blending in among this particular dark-haired, indigenous group, whose average height seemed to hover around my breast.

On one trip, a 20-something woman clad in new, stylish jeans came up to sit near me. "Are you from the United States?" she asked. When I admitted that I was, she began to beam and explain, "My husband is an illegal!" She said this in the way that some proud suburban mom from New Jersey might announce that her son was an orthopedic surgeon. As the bus carried us towards the village whose Aztec language name means "place of many hummingbirds," she explained how her husband had been gone for about four years now, sends money often, and snuck back to Mexico once to see her and their two children. Little by little, they are building a new, modern house in their village, now even beginning to add a second floor while she and the children occupy the first floor.

It is sad that this hard-working little family had to endure such lengthy separation in order to find economic opportunity. When I asked about the emotional difficulty of living apart from her husband, she admitted that it was very difficult, but worth it, for the money it brought them. They freely chose to endure the separation for the benefits it would bring.

I think about this family every time the various liberal church groups here rally a protest about how supposedly horrible it is to separate families when illegal immigrants here are caught and sent back to their native land. When they are deported, the parents generally chose to leave behind their American-born children, who are all Americans citizens simply by virtue of having been born on American soil. They could elect to take their children back with them to their native land, but they do not want to do that.

I wish that everyone in the world could enjoy the freedoms, economic opportunity, and standards of living available here in the United States. Since that is not possible, we need to maintain and enforce responsible immigration policies, which must include deportation of illegal immigrants. To waive the deportation of parents of children born here would simply encourage the current practice of sneaking into this country, giving birth in our hospitals with free medical care, and establishing all sorts of entitlements through those births.

Life involves tough choices. Our country would not do well to reward illegals who in coming to this country freely chose to break the rules and are now presuming to guilt us into waiving the consequences of their own choice to break those rules. These enterprising parents now have the ability to make a new choice: they themselves can elect to keep their families intact by taking their children home with them. No doubt about, children deserve to grow up with their parents.

Attention Kidnapper: Reward for the Safe Return of Gertrude

Gertrude was my faithful companion over the hundreds of miles I drive each month over the backroads of Minnesota. She was a most congenial friend during my preaching rounds. "In 500 feet, turn left," she would advise. "Please proceed to the highlighted route." If I tired of her bland American accent, she would obliging switch to Aussie or British. If I daydreamed and made a wrong turn, she was ever-vigilant to guide me back on course, or to find an alternate route.

It's true. Sometimes Gertrude would talk a little too much, more than earning the standard nick-name of B----ing Betty during her most insistent moments. Yet, what kind of friend would I be if couldn't overlook a well-intentioned flaw like that?

All this came to an end this morning, when some brute smashed a window of my little car and made off with a few of my belongings, including Gertrude, my trusty GPS. The kidnapper hurried on to a spending spree, giddily signing my name for strange, quantity purchases of cigarettes, gas cards, and phone cards. All while happy Episcopalians, me included, ushered in the season of Epiphany, and lingered lazily over second cups of coffee and extra slices of cheese, in their downstairs fellowship hall.

The credit cards are canceled, the phone contract suspended, and tomorrow I'll haul over to the Registry to pose for a new license photo. Perhaps the insurance demi-gods will be merciful in dealing with all the losses. But oh that treasure trove of info trapped in Gertrude's memory cells--I mean chips! All the locations of far-flung soccer fields and tennis tournaments, cute little churches in Wisconsin as well as Minnesota, vacations cherished, errands run.

The county sheriff's office is proving amazingly thorough in the investigation. They encourage hope about Gertrude's return. Afterall, she is not one to play video games or music, so perhaps the thug will tire of Gertrude's straight-laced company and pawn her for a few more ill-deserved bucks.

I miss you, Gertrude. I'm sorry this had to happen to you. If you can only find your way back to me, I promise never to let ANYONE call you that other name again! Without you, Gertrude, I'm simply lost.