Summer of Reading #5 LOVE IN THE DRIEST SEASON

Now I've had an education. I am seeing the huge magnitude of nations that are imploding from AIDS, political corruption and deprivation. This is a story of a couple who found themselves in the center of the chaos and allowed the love for a certain child to guide them, and often compel them through months of heartache and hope against the odds.
It tells me that even in the midst of incomprehensible politics and sorrow, the story of a survivor is a joy for all. The small stories of failure rang out loudly, even though all the while I knew this book had a happy ending. Like the stunning courage of those who see the death of innocent children and the one who waits for the remains of his dearest daughter. The survival and adoption of this one girl is a gift for all who have held dreams for so many others. Her story is the one we are striving to make for all. She is a jewel that declares that all children are as stunning and remarkable.

Interestingly for me, Mr Tucker made mention of a US adoption agency Bethany Christian Services. I serve on a local board for Bethany here in So Cal. We have been waiting all year, applying in Sacramento, to get approval to assist with foreign adoption. Mr Tucker writes that Bethany does not deal with African counties. Maybe that can change.
All I know is that the holocaust of African families is bigger than any of us can imagine. And we need to know about it. We need to pray about it and we need to do what ever we can to help.

Summer of Reading #4 THE COMPLEX CHRIST

This book weighed heavy with me, so I determined to plow through it today. I'm glad I did.
Some conversations of faith and seeking take patience. I have been burdened for answers inside my spirit about my fellowship and lack of fellowship with gay Christians. I am gathering with all sorts of practicing believers in August and I felt that before I meet with them, I needed to get my own clarity on this, from my own perspective.

Kester Brewin's helped me to put some little pieces together. Though the whole community of gay believers is actually hypothetical to me at the moment, I don't think it could become more than that if I am not willing for it to be so. I have to think beyond the difference to make a difference. No one cares if I approve. No one cares if I disapprove. I care that all people have access to Christ.
Last Sunday, early in the morning, I couldn't sleep. I began to think about the demarkation. I needed to know what side of the line the Lord wanted me to walk on. I asked him to tell me and struggled off to sleep. As I wandered through the worship service hours later, I realized the scriptures had the word I needed to hear. John 4. Jesus. Of course. He goes beyond the discriminating line and speaks to people. He doesn't pacify our small solutions, yet he doesn't get caught in arguing our every detail (he just knows our every detail). He knows we need Him. The disciples didn't get it right that day and only through persistent insistence will we begin to "get" Jesus and act like Him.
Brewin mentions John 4 and many other sources that show Jesus disregarding the "clean" and going to unexpected places.
There is poetry in Brewin's skirting of many other poets. Along with involved examples of evolutional sociology and biology, he comes around academic corners with imaginative prose.
I have been helped in realizing, as he teaches about gift, that what I give to someone doesn't, and blessedly should not, return to me along the same path.

Summer of Reading #3 THE ATTACK

This is the story of a corner of the Middle East conflict that resonates with suffering and questions not unlike those of the general concentration camps and the specific Brazilian City of God. As the story weaves through characters on both sides of the demarkation line, the same workers of war and salvation ply their trade. In the end, even unbelievers are confronted with destiny and the unassailable hope of new life.

I found a new perspective on the people caught up in this conflict over land and dignity. We are all challenged by the warning to not allow our liberty to be a prison for another.

Oswald Chambers 1874-1917

"The baptism of the Holy Spirit does not make you think of time or eternity— it is one amazing glorious now. "This is eternal life, that they may know You . . ." ( John 17:3 ). Begin to know Him now, and never finish."

Summer of Reading #2 THE SECRET MESSAGE OF JESUS

....by Brian McClaren

This is the softer side of McClaren who seems to be mending any rickety fences between XCore emergent and the thinking Evangelical. I liked this book. As I read it I was encouraged that I am living out the secret message, which is just a euphemism for "parable."
McClaren isn't nearly as radical as Wills (see previous post) in his take on Jesus or nearly as upsetting. While Wills shows his Catholic mindset, McClaren's ideas in the appendix for practicing the secret message are healthy and balanced, expressing the latter's evangelical roots. Each of these men seem to want to hold to the root of the tradition, but do major pruning to the point of below ground. In other words-underground. Sounds like the way of the persecuted third world to me.

There is a lot of grace to this book. Less of McClaren's ambivalence, and more of a simple clarity. He seems to have made a little peace with not having figured it all out: and now just wants to encourage us to move on to the business of tending to the Kingdom.

Summer Of Reading #1 WHAT JESUS MEANT

As I read through a stack this summer, very purposely on subjects of faith and story, I thought I would share my first, or last impressions. Often a really good book is about the feeling I am left with in the end. It means that I am not just left with a feel good at the last chapter, but I am changed somehow. So when I finish each of these book, I am trying to capture the overall impression it leaves with me. Maybe it will encourage you to move forward or pass by the volumes I'll describe. At the very least, my telling will reinforce the mark I hope these books will leave on me.

First: WHAT JESUS MEANT by Garry Wills

I found this book after reading a piece in Academic Journal by Mr Wills. "He had me at hello" because the question of Jesus' divinity was affirmed and challenging. So here's the last word on my first impression:

Wills has a passion for the underlying character of Jesus-Messiah that brings not just God, but "God Reign". He takes on the new "unclean", homosexuality, and explains that Jesus is against the formality of religion. He often quotes G.K. Chesterton. Wills, a Catholic, takes on the Pope, those past and present in their hierarchy and Benedict XVI's latest declarations on the Agape feast. Wills points out that the real bread and wine is the Body of Christ, not the host and cup presented by the priest with his back to the people. The priesthood ended with Christ. Those who follow him are all his emissaries manifesting the resurrected Messiah.
This is a personal book for Wills who believes that Jesus is divine, but that Jesus never meant to have the church stand as it commonly does today. Wills believes that Jesus refuses to enter the politics of man and that he is a product of the radical fringe of his cousin's discipline, the Essenes. He expounds that Jesus continues to be the radical prophet asking for a larger reign of God. Wills often ends portions of the book with an ironic turn of phrase- "religion is still killing him," thus reinforcing the Catholic Crucifix.

Band/Art

I got together with some people and we collaged with newsprint and beeswax. We kept the palette low key. I didn't know what we would get, lighting wise; I had hopes to backlight them. But still we were able to make a space. and it was good.

April: Rock and Rheyma

My epic April ended with the Coachella Music and Arts Festival in Indio. Our second year to go, with the added second day means an upcoming summer full of listening to new music and the memories that will be embedded in them.

The crowds put up with me too, I guess, so I can't complain, but rock'n roll allows for a glittering set of pedestrians. We watched the people, oh yes, we did. I'm afraid my company did not provide the same degree of entertainment for onlookers, but we chilled and searched for water and found each other providentially after parting.

My daughter and I had great company. Take note: choose your Coachella mates wisely. They might complain too much. They may insist in dragging you to the Dance tent for a free migraine. But Tim and Merrick and Joel loved the atmosphere as much as we did. As one commented, "we were close enough for them to spit on us!" That's the spirit!
Sigur Ros, My Morning Jacket, Metric, The Dears, The Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs; we liked it. God is in the music and he's is us as we took it in, thankful for a cool breeze, a shady spot and the focus of hundreds on nothing else but the sway of rhythms, sound given and taken in. Rock and Rhyema.

Mom

This is a picture of my mother Norma Jean. She was 16 when this was taken. She would have been 73 on the 17th. I miss you Mom. You still remain the most giving and joyful person I have ever known. I love you.

Day Seven

Day Six

Wednesday evening was a special wonder. I was getting some stuff @ Merril Hall, the rain pouring most of the day. (Good sewing weather!) This was the eye treat when the sun set low enough to come through. There was a double rainbow.

Good things come to them that wait. While others hurried off to get back to their projects, a few of us hung back and got the better of the moment.











Art then, imitated life.

Day Four and Five

Dear Cathy,
I finally began sewing last night. It has been two days of pasting up block patterns and not just talking about color relationships, but seeing them. Every eye has it's own DNA of rods and cones. My eye actually sees color slightly differently that your eye. Maybe we all knew that, but the thought should free us up from thinking that what we like is not "the right thing". Then, if there really is a problem with the quilt, the color theory can help solve it.I've settled in to a palette for Margie's quilt yesterday. Dull darks and intense lights make for a luminous design. So I'll be tesing out that theory as I sew together all my little 1, 2, and 3 inch squares. Also, more pieces make for more chances to place accents just where they are needed.



Of course, there is no shortage of talented people here. Many in my class have a very good color sense and I am amazed at how they see. For the first time though, I am here without any melancholy about what I am not. Must be age. It must be gratitude also.
This truly is a Holy Week for me. Seperate, pure and good. I keep thinking of Fr. Rossi and his red vestments. A week like this is a vestment for me. Soon I will take it off, but the moments I wore it will make a difference for me at home.

Day Three

Hi Cathy!
I don't want to sound too happy-you're not here! But I am loving it so far. I have a room on the second floor of the Lodge with my bed under the window. I won't tell you I can see the waves breaking from my pillow. I have layed out all the "don't -forget-Cathy" items. But I especially thought of you when Emma Allebes got up and showed her quilts. You would love her. She is the Ultimate Grandma. She is "Oma" to her dears. She is famous for her Taxi Cab outfit (who wouldn't be!) and her grandaughter had her for Show and Tell. We have a new height to attain to as our future Grandmotherdom unfolds. It's good to be inspired.

I can't figure out how to segue into telling you about Mass this morning. It is Palm Sunday and unlike most of the other congregants, I was more than happy to stand through the reading of the Passion. I will have my palm branch pinned to my work board all week. I'm thinking of going to Holy Thursday service at the Carmel Mission.

Christine Barnes is a true Teacher. I've had a couple Ahha moments already, as in "Ah, color!"

Day Two

Dear Cathy,

I slept well. Mark and I went to sleep to a recording of an Hispanic Mass that our mother had. I began telling him how I was looking all over for it and before I could finish describing it, he pulled it from his box of albums. Oh, joy of my heart! the album cover with all the pen drawings of the Virgin and the altar pieces. The only person who would understand is Mark.

We left for the city after I had the Greatest Tuna Melt I Have Ever Had!! The secret, I think, is a little lemon juice squeezed over the lettuce and tomato. Make mine with Chedder, please. I heard pitiful stories about David Lee Roth from Mark's buddy and stopped for a great view in Tiberon. There are so many beautiful places in this world! But I don't have a pic of any of those things- I went to Britex! As they say, it's worth a thousand words. and maybe two more: four stories!

Day One

Dear Cathy,
I'm on the first leg of the trip. I miss you already. I miss other people too, of course, but you're the one who should be here with me.
I made to The Apricot Tree Restaurant before I thought my bladder would explode. Which is not a good lead into a description of a late breakfast. Instead of getting something at the catholic McDonalds, I thought I would check out the specialties of the local diner. It was your kinda people, know what I mean? And it included the largest collection of vintage lunch boxes this side of the Rockies. I saw a stray cat out of the view from my booth; a nice corner spot over-looking the air conditioning unit. What was that poor kitty doing hanging out by the frreway? His tail was only half long.















I made it to Renegade by 12:30 with nary a hitch in the navigation of the 5/880/80/680/101 confusion past San Leandro. I usually always have story to tell in that mess. I remembered exactly where Mark's work is; navigation angels, probably. This place has grown so much. Tons of equipment, musicians friend. There; a plug for you Terry Morton to my vast blog readership... and you, of course, Cathy. I'm tagging along with them to a Jewish wedding in the City tomorrow.

You'll forget I love you
and not believe a word
when chemistry and
moonless sleep scrubs you clean

You lack a history of
believing me, so all the
systems tried and true
work tirelessly as you mill about

doubting. Wrestling aged
troubles that come your way
make them recovered and weighted.
And I carry them too
agreeing there are monsters
and other phantoms

It only takes daylight to
slay them, but while the
sun's away, I'll hold you,
whispering my voice
a mercy.

If love were all about
my thoughts of you
Love woould be your bread
and butter, your God and
Everlasting

If you leave or when you
walk back in again
Love will be the soles of your shoes and the bones
of your feet

If you succeed and when you fail, love isn't afraid
to weep when you are hungry
If you run and when
you stop, love won't look away when you are blistered

Gilead

If you need a book right now, can I recommend Gilead? This is now my all time favorite. Personal choice, I know, but let me sell you a little. If you read this bit at all, then you must like a measure of what interests me.
Why do I search out the life of ministry- Christ's and otherwise? This novel says all I could explain about how the dedication to spiritual growth in one's self and other's is heroic and beautiful.
Here's an ordinary man in a unnoticable community making an epic love story by his honesty and grace. He's writing to his young son during the last months of his life, as last words become so compelling. His limits are what I fear in us and his generosity is what I believe about us. And of course there is the wisdom, speaking to someone like you and me-

"...I have thought about that very often-how the times change, and the same words that carry a good many people into the howling wilderness in one gereration are irksome or meaningless in the next...young people from my own flock have come home witha copy of...L'Immoraliste, flummoxed by the possibility of unbelief, when I must have told them a thousand times that unbelief is possible...And they want me to defend religion, and they want me to give them "proofs." I just won't do it. It only confirms them in their skepticism. Because nothing true can be said about God from a posture of defense."

There is no proof of God in this novel, but an acting out that is undeniable.

Hostel

We walked the streets and I kept my disposable camera under wraps. We tried to understand the subway and took in the culture of urban dwellers. I kept saying to myself "hey, I could do this! I love the city."
And I was free to say it because I had money in my pocket and I wasn't alone.

A city takes in all kinds and it distracts you. And you can find someone to fight with or alongside. The wealthy of the top floor at least provides the crumbs for those who gather underneath the table. Cities offer the world at the next station, but some children never leave the Borough.
Then the most amazing contrast. We took ourselves to Times Square Church. And we agreed together, these strangers gathered to the feast prepared for us, that we would worship God in Jesus.
And we all could say, but not with words, that we knew His spirit and we knew His people. The impression of Him far outweighed the Musicals, the Food and the Wealth. It outweighed the sight of the girl arriving 2 am to the hotel. Or the man curled up in the rain.
I had two dollars to take the train there, and the clear head to find my way.
God Bless the City

Gold Medal

I may know how to knit, but I don't know how to post my medal on my blog sidebar. I think I may go traditional until then and print one out and wear it hard copy on my hard copy sweater.