Reunions/Reports

I.

When my father was dying,
he saw angels
hovering over him.

In his delirium
he would try to catch them,
his once-powerful arms
feebly swiping through the air.

My mother chose
to see this as a sign
that God was watching over him.
She has filled her home with angels:
dolls of wood, china, and glass,
with wings and halos.

She says Dad will be waiting for her,
and she talks to him every night.

II.

Now, I hear more stories...

One says
“When they brought me back
after my heart stopped
I was disappointed.
I had to leave the big white tent
where all my dead relatives
were waiting to welcome me.”

Another says
her dying mother
talked about a pretty lady
sitting in the corner of her room,
just smiling and waiting.

A widow reports
her deceased spouse
talking to his mother,
who had died years before,
in the days before his own death.

An elderly woman
tells me of last night’s dream:
her two sons reunited on a country road –

one died years ago,
the other just this morning.

III.

This is uncharted territory,
for one
who defines the divine
in the vaguest possible terms
and doesn’t believe in angels.

Yet,
Is it more comforting to
believe a loved one
safe with friends and family
in some shining white tent…

or to contemplate a dark abyss,
nothingness?

I will accept nothingness,
But I must allow my mother her angels
and others their white tents and reunions.

Sauntering Through the Woods

Field of Columbine, originally uploaded by Earthbound Spirit.

The dh and I used to walk a lot together. We would walk, and talk, working out our feelings and differences. We made a lot of decisions while walking - decisions about having a family, about moving, about whether the wine in
Hermann, MO is better than California or Washington wine... decisions like that. We haven't had much opportunity to just walk together for a long time - 20+ years of raising kids, one stressful job, one seminarian who's on the road a lot...

Today we went for a walk in the woods together - just the two of us. Sweet.
We saw the above columbine.


We saw pretty purple and yellow flowers we can't name...


And, after much huffing and puffing (by me!), we were treated to the view below, atop "Big Hill." Yes, that's what it's called.

On our way back to the parking lot, we followed a Monarch which flitted just before us all the way through the meadow.
In the interest of full disclosure, a little pinkness to my skin, and a few mosquito bites were also acquired. Small price to pay for some natural beauty - and the great company. I really love this guy I married almost 3 decades ago - nice to know he's still around.

Influential Books - Nonfiction

A group I'm part of recently decided to share with each other the five books that had the most influence on our spirituality - faith - religion. There was no real deadline, but I had some extra time today so I went to the bookshelves to choose my five. Instead of looking at the academic tomes which have proliferated on my bookshelves over the past two years, I just looked at "popular" books - those readily available through online book sources and bricks-and-mortar bookstores. A couple other caveats: I decided not to include poetry. It's just too hard to choose the most influential poetry - and there'd be no room on the list for anything else. I also decided to only include non-fiction - though I might go back and construct a list of fiction books at some point.

Here's what I settled on, and why, in roughly the order I read them:


The Feminine Face of God: The Unfolding of the Sacred in Women, by Sherry Ruth Anderson & Patricia Hopkins

One of the things that led to my leaving traditional Christianity behind was the patriarchal attitudes about women. Not long after joining a Unitarian Universalist church I picked up this book, mostly because of the title and the intriguing artwork depicting a flower garden with a variety of plants and blooms on the cover. Intrigued by their use of a garden metaphor for the varied and unique ways of women’s spirituality, I read the book through – then read it again – and have read it completely through at least once more since when I facilitated a discussion of it for a women’s spirituality group. Anderson and Hopkins broke open the cage I’d seen religion/spirituality as and gave me a new way of thinking about my relationship to the divine.


Fire in the Soul: A New Psychology of Spiritual Optimism, by Joan Borysenko

I have a psychology degree, and the title of this book intrigued me – spirituality and psychology combined? I had to read it. Like The Feminine Face of God, it’s a book I’ve read more than once – and recommended to most of the women I know. Borysenko breaks the rules of objective academia, recounting her own struggles with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder as a teen – and relating this struggle to others’ struggles with addictions and other self-destructive behaviors. She also talks about the need to find the divine in the depths of suffering, the search for meaning and the transformative power of this meaning making. Again written from a distinctively feminine/feminist viewpoint, most of what she wrote made sense to me – and this was the first place I encountered the concept of loving-kindness meditation.


Long Quiet Highway: Waking Up in America, by Natalie Goldberg

I have a weakness for a genre of books I call spiritual autobiography. I could probably come up with a list of five most influential spiritual autobiographies. This one is here because it was my first real introduction to Buddhist thought, albeit in an indirect way. Goldberg is a writer, a writing teacher, and a Buddhist practitioner. In this book she tells the story of her spiritual wandering as a young writer supporting herself by teaching, and eventually studying at Naropa College – followed by the Minneapolis Zen Center and dharma teacher Katagiri Roshi – and how the practice of meditation has informed her writing and her life. At the very end of the book she mentions a retreat at Plum Village, the monastery Thich Nhat Hanh established in France. Though I read other American Buddhists first, Goldberg’s encounter with TNH stuck in my mind and I eventually sought out his writing.


Living Buddha, Living Christ and Going Home: Jesus and Buddha as Brothers, by Thich Nhat Hanh


I know this is two books, but it's my list - and I consider these inseparable. I’ve read many books by TNH, but these two are most significant for me. TNH’s view of Jesus and the Buddha helped me begin to look at and reclaim what I can use from my own Christian heritage. In the first book TNH carefully examines the parallels as well as the definite differences between Jesus and the Buddha, discussing how concepts exist by different names in both traditions. The second book is a collection of dharma talk transcripts, loosely related because each touches on the relationship between Buddhism and Christianity. What struck me most in this book was TNH’s insistence that one must study and understand one’s own spiritual roots. So now I study at a Christian seminary – but the lens through which I view the scriptures has been altered by my exposure to the thinking and gentle philosophy of this wise Buddhist teacher.


The Sacred Depths of Nature, by Ursula Goodenough

I first encountered the term “religious naturalist” in a seminary course on 20th Century theologies. This was one of the books recommended for further reading if one was interested in exploring the concept further. My understanding is that a religious naturalist makes meaning of what s/he can see, or explain, and leaves a space for Mystery. Acknowledging that there is much we don’t know, a religious naturalist would not speculate much on the nature of God, but would look for a way to find meaning and transcendence in what is here and now. In this book, a professor of biology explores evolution and its relationship to our human need for religion and meaning. Arranged much like a daily devotional, each chapter begins with a mini science lesson and ends with a reflection on what this says about us as humans, as religious people, and the implications for the future of our existence. Very spiritual writing actually – Goodenough uses poetry and scripture to illuminate her points to good effect.

Saved!... from the gospel of fear

Recent posts on Ms. Kitty's and MamaG's blogs about the movie Jesus Camp sparked my memory of this much less serious movie. I haven't seen Jesus Camp yet, but I'm going to put it on my list of videos to view this summer.


A while back, when M* was home for a bit, we watched the movie Saved! starring Mandy Moore and Macauley Culkin. M* had watched it with a friend at college, and said she thought I’d like it.

Please note that I use the term Christian in my discussion of this movie to indicate a particular kind of superficial religious person who is more concerned with image than substance – outwardly pious but inwardly empty. This is not to be confused with the many fine people I know who follow the example of Jesus. I don't consider myself a Christian, though I respect and accept my Unitarian and Universalist Christian heritage.

If you haven’t seen Saved!, here’s the scoop: The movie is set at a Christian high school - very WASP-y looking students, very clean-cut "all-American" boys and girls, obviously most of these people have money. Main character Mary is in with the "cool" kids, a clique led by super-Christian Hilary Faye - who is also the vocalist for a musical group called the Christian Jewels. The new school year begins fairly normally, but is complicated quickly with Mary discovering she's pregnant; her boyfriend Dean being sent to a program to be cured of his homosexuality; Mary's mother develops a major crush on the school principal; and Patrick, the principal's son, has a crush on Mary. Hilary Faye has a crush on Patrick. Hilary Faye's brother Roland starts skipping school and dating Cassandra, the school outcast -- and eventually Hilary's machinations to remove Mary as her rival for Patrick's affections become known in a very public venue.

At one point while watching the movie I said to my daughters, “This is Mean Girls with religion.” Really, if you stripped away the Christian gloss and set the story in a public high school the result would be a generic teen film. And, in many ways it is; yet, there is more here. As the plot moves forward we get a peek beneath the veneer of happy religiosity broadcast by Hilary Faye and her band, revealing them as very real young women who are terrified that they’ll never be good enough for Jesus. Hilary has them convinced that she knows the right way to be, and they’d better fall into line if they want to continue to be Christian Jewels. The only way she can control them is through fear - although that's never explicitly stated. But, Hilary Faye is also afraid - afraid that if she isn't "just perfect" that she'll lose her status at the top of the high school pecking order.

The almost-romance between the high school principal and Mary’s mother also never gets off the ground because of fear – the principal is too wrapped up in his perception of his god’s expectations to divorce his wife (who left him and lives in another country), believing that this would condemn him. He is unable to believe that the god he worships might want him to be happy – and totally unable to believe what he teaches about grace and mercy. For a group of people who profess to be Christians, they are very Levitical in their thinking. It's the marginalized students of the school - the one Jewish student, and wheelchair-bound Roland, who display true compassion in the spirit of Jesus to Mary in her time of need. I don't want to spoil the ending of the movie - I'll just say there's a happy ending for some...
***
This whole idea of having to exercise control through fear is something I've never liked about some religious bodies. My hairdresser asked me just this afternoon if I thought I had to make people afraid, as a minister. I was surprised, because she's been cutting my hair for several years. I told her no, that I thought we were meant to be happy and not live our lives in fear - and she sighed with relief. I guess she thought me as a minister would be different than me as a regular person? I did give her my very quick elevator speech, too, and she told me about a great Episcopal priest she'd known growing up and how he also had the attitude that religion wasn't supposed to be about fear.
***
I recently had the opportunity to talk with a woman I knew back in high school. Back then, she supervised a Christian coffee house I went to on a regular basis during the time when I hung out with a lot of fundamentalist Christians. I even tried to be one, but I was raised to be too much of an individual to stay there. Anyway, this woman began witnessing to me in strident terms - saying that the Bible says that no person is good, that God will judge, that sinners will be cast into the lake of fire... Most of us have heard it before. This sort of talk used to scare me - and I admit I still felt the clenching in my stomach signaling the fear that was my constant companion at one time.

Later, I thought about what she was saying and I felt sad, and angry. Sad, because this woman really has done some good work - there are people who are alive because she sat with them through some rough times in their teens - but she still thinks she's not a good person, because the theology taught in the church she attends is so fear-filled. Sad, because this seems to be a theology that hits people right in the self-esteem; and angry because this sort of 'witness' testifies to a mean-spirited form of Christianity that I don't think Jesus of Nazareth would claim. At least, I don't think Jesus ever said we should follow him and think we're better than anyone else because of it.

Century Mark, and Mid-week Musings

This is the 100th post on this blog. I thought about ignoring the milestone, the way I would like to ignore my next birthday. But it's amazing to me that I'm still doing this - amazing that I've now finished 2 years of seminary - amazing that I'm still failing, picking myself up, failing again, and occasionally finding a nugget of insight or enlightenment to illuminate the path for myself. Amazing, too, that my family has survived - and thrived - and that my dh is still hanging in there on this uncertain path.

Random items, which don't seem to be prompting enough deep thought for a post on their own:

Discussion over at Sexuality and Religion, What's the Connection? on "plan B" contraception got me thinking. If one believes that a fertilized egg is a person with rights before implantation, how does one think about the fertilized eggs that never managed to get implanted naturally? It seems that if one were to take this to an absurd extreme one could make a case for a divine being as abortion provider. Seems silly - and I think I must be missing something...

Serious talk about the movie "Jesus Camp" has me remembering "Saved!" - a decidedly unserious teen flick. Hmmm... I might post more on this later...

A couple of bloggers have commented on one UU church's decision to ban non-recyclable, non-refillable water bottles. I agree that having a sign on the door about the issue is monumentally unwelcoming. That said, what about all the [insert your favorite coffee shop here] cups? I'm beginning to be annoyed with fellow congregants who think nothing of bringing their cuppa joe into the sanctuary and sipping through the service. I know this was part of the culture of one UU congregation I visited a while back - but this is something new for my congregation. Anyone else have any thoughts? How do we respectfully ask folks to finish their lattes before they walk in? Or am I just being stuffy?

My youngest child and I - well, me first, I guess - discovered that Florida writer Carl Hiaasen has written a couple books for children. I'm guessing these are for the middle-school/young high school age range. Both are hilariously entertaining and have serious messages about the environment seamlessly embedded. They are both available in print and audio versions - the titles are "Hoot" and "Flush." Hoot was nicely adapted to film, available in DVD, which we both enjoyed viewing. I know these are labeled for "children," but Hiaasen just proves again: a good story is a good story, whatever age it's aimed at.

Finally, I'm looking for a few good books to read this summer. Those of you who've trod the path know I already have a long list of required reading, but I'm looking for a few recommendations of fun reading for those times when I just have to take a break. Thanks to one fellow seminarian, I've taken a second look at Kim Harrison's series, and am enjoying her alternate reality where witches, vampires and werewolves - not to mention pixies and fairies - all coexist openly with humans. What else should I be looking for, that will entertain - and maybe spark some spiritual thoughts?

"And do Respect the Women of the World...

Remember, you all had Mothers."
(from "Yes We Can Can" written by Allen Touissant, recorded by The Pointer Sisters, and many others)

About a year ago, I wrote a post called "Mothers" which was mostly about my mother and what she taught me about religion (and reading). Now, being in CPE (that's Clinical Pastoral Education, and most who prepare for the ministry are now required to complete at least one 400-hour unit), and especially making my rounds through the outpatient cancer clinic, has me thinking about Mom a lot.

A generation's time ago, my mother called to tell me that she was going into the hospital for surgery. She'd found a lump in her breast, and they were going to remove it to see if it was cancerous. Although she said it wasn't necessary, of course I took a week off of work (without pay) and went home. My Dad and I sat in the waiting room for long hours waiting for the doctor to tell us if Mom was going to be o.k. When he finally appeared, the doctor told us that the lump was cancer, (this was when they still used the terms benign and malignant) and that he'd removed my mother's breast and all lymph nodes under her arm. Mom stayed in the hospital for a solid week, then shooed me back to my own place once she got home, determined to get back to normal life herself. After she recovered from surgery, they set up a course of radiation treatment which burned her skin and completely destroyed hair follicles on that side of her torso.

Mom never complained about any of it, at least not to me - and I know not to my brother, either. I learned then that my mother, who I'd always thought of as a "china cup" of a woman, was really a "stoneware mug." Not eggshell-thin and fragile after all, but more like the thick white mugs at White Castle and other late-night diners. I told her that once - and she laughed at me, saying I really should have known that already. I guess I should have. Any woman who met her husband while they both worked at a chicken farm, married him two days before he was shipped overseas, then waited for him to come home from World War II, and followed him through the years that he worked on one farm and another, had to be resilient. The mastectomy and subsequent treatment were necessary inconveniences to her - the main point was to get through it all and LIVE. Some call that stubbornness - I call it courage and strength.

She's still teaching me this lesson. My father's death a decade ago nearly did her in, but she recovered from the heart attack she suffered six months after his death and decided that she wanted to live - especially after my niece told Mom that she was going to be a great-grandma. She's now a great-grandma three times over, and she gets excited every time she gets new photos of the children from my nieces.

Mom's slowing down, though. A couple years ago she broke her foot, which put her out of commission for the volunteer work she did at the local elementary school. She's had increasing joint problems, back problems, heart problems... and a chronic case of glaucoma for which I drive her to a specialist several times a year. But she survived another round of angioplasty last year... Still, she's almost 82, and I'm starting to wonder how much longer she'll be on this earth. That's one of the dangers of working in a hospital - you learn about how the elderly sometimes slowly slide into a decline, never quite recovering full functioning but plateauing at a new level, before suffering another health crisis. She may have years yet - or she may suffer an illness that will rob her of the health she still has.

When the time comes, I know I will get through it and live, for nothing would honor my mother more. For now, though, I'm grateful she's here - and I'm grateful for all she taught me.

Visual DNA

This is kind of fun! Hat tip to Carlos...

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Three Little Words

“Tell me about…”

He was so loving ...
She was the prettiest girl in school ...

He would give you the shirt off his back ...
She had a special relationship with each grandchild ...

He was more forgiving than I am ...
She loved her gardens ...

He was always so strong ...
She was always there ...

He used to drive me crazy ...
She always sang along with the radio ...

He’s in a better place ...
She’s not suffering any more ...

And three more little words: "I love(d) him/her"

So the work begins
Remembering, laughing, crying,
Getting to acceptance and understanding

"Tell me about..."

Random Thoughts & Reactions

Where I want to be (above)...
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A good friend has posted recently about current favorite TV shows, and I have to confess that I am such a nerd that I haven't seen any of them. I haven't managed to see any series consistently since... well, I don't remember exactly. Maybe the first season of Survivor. Or the first season of American Idol. I did enjoy Will and Grace, but there really hasn't been much on that's captured my attention - or been worth wrestling the kids for control of the remote. Then there's this little venture called going to seminary... Anyway, about a year ago my dh had the brilliant idea of giving me the first season of Quantum Leap on DVD. I highly recommend this series - it's got great philosophy content (mind/body issues abound), interesting theological issues to explore (why does Sam leap into these particular people?), one of the dh's favorite science fiction concepts (time travel and/or alternate history) and, of course, Scott Bakula in his prime (forget that Star Trek prequel).

This was followed by the second season as a gift this past Christmas, while I gave him the first season of an even older show (which may have inspired QL) - Time Tunnel. We've been alternating watching episodes from each show, about one or two a week, since the holidays. The big advantage here is that we choose our time (I know - with Tivo we could choose our time for current shows), but we're also reliving some significant times in our lives. Time Tunnel is from the dh's childhood, when he and his brother would raptly watch each week's episode and try to figure out how Doug and Tony would get out of whatever new situation they were catapulted into. Quantum Leap is from the time in our lives when our children were babies. Most importantly though, we've gained back some quality time with each other. Between his 40-60 hour/week job, our shared parenting responsibilities, and my seminary class schedule, couple time was getting lost. I look forward now to the time we spend together, groaning over Tony's naive insistence "you've gotta believe me, I'm from the future," in TT, and laughing at Al's serial monogamy and Sam's earnest do-gooding in QL. Hard to imagine this kind of togetherness with Desperate Housewives. Maybe we're doing a little time-traveling of our own...
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Joel, over at CUUMBAYA challenged UU bloggers to 'fess up to our guilty web pleasures - the sites we look at regularly, but don't want to admit. Well, I share Joel's fascination with one very cute website. You'll just have to click on the link to see. But, I also like this one, especially if the first fails to provide a sufficient fix for the day - M* sent me there first, lover of cuteness that she is. The one I feel really guilty about though is this one. I'm not that shallow, really. No, really!
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I'm still mulling over what physicist Brian Greene once said was the most compelling, unanswerable question of our time: Why do we care about Paris Hilton and her life?
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Glad I got all that off my chest. Now, I'd better stop procrastinating - final paper is due tomorrow night and I need to start writing.

Cool Cartoon

Very busy with other things - the term in ending and CPE rolls on... Until I can create a real blog entry though:

A colleague recommended this to me, and I laughed out loud.
Here's the link: Adult Swim. Click on "Moral Orel" and enjoy!