A day for many small tasks around the house. Finally got some time to treat all the wooden handles of the garden tools with boiled linseed oil. I first sanded them smooth and then rubbed them with a well-oiled rag. After about ten minutes I rubbed off the excess with a clean rag (torn from one of Liam's old T-shirts) and buffed them well.
The oil made the handles dark and smooth. They felt wonderful and smelled even better. I had really put off doing this and the handle of the spade was very dry and cracking in spots. I hope it feels better. There is something about doing tasks such as this that gives you hope for the future.
The smell of boiled linseed oil is very evocative.
I really should clean out the garage.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
The Lady's not for Burning
I saw this quiz over at Padre Mickey's. Luckily, it appears I won't burn, at least not for being a heretic.
You scored as Chalcedon compliant, You are Chalcedon compliant. Congratulations, you're not a heretic. You believe that Jesus is truly God and truly man and like us in every respect, apart from sin. Officially approved in 451.
Are you a heretic? created with QuizFarm.com |
Friday, June 1, 2007
My Melon-choly Baby?
from Discovery News:June 1, 2007 — Archaeologists digging in western Japan have excavated what they believe to be the oldest remains of a melon ever found, an official said Friday.
Based on a radiocarbon analysis, researchers estimate the half-rounded piece of fruit to be about 2,100 years old, said Shuji Yamazaki, a local official in the city of Moriyama.
The remains are believed to be the oldest of a melon that still has flesh on the rind, Yamazaki said. Previously, the oldest such find was believed to be remains found in China that date back to the fourth century A.D., according to local media reports.
The melon might have been so well-preserved because it was in a vacuum-packed state in a wet layer below the ground, an environment hostile to microorganisms that might otherwise have broken down the remains, Yamazaki said.
Melon seeds have been often found in archaeological digs around the country, but researchers rarely find the remains of melon flesh, Yamazaki said.
Moriyama is about 205 miles southwest of Tokyo.
I guess that cucumber in the back of my fridge doesn't feel quite so old now.
OK. Enough excitement for the nonce...back to work.
Wormwood's Doxy: Just Love
Many of you have probably come across this post by WD, but in case you haven't, it's deeply moving. Check it out. An excerpt:
"So, my dear friends, do not make his sacrifice a vain one. “Just love”---no matter what the cost. Believe that God’s judgment comes in the form of tears, rather than thunderbolts. Believe that when Jesus said “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” that he meant it---and that God gave His only Son what was requested."
Thanks. I needed that.
"So, my dear friends, do not make his sacrifice a vain one. “Just love”---no matter what the cost. Believe that God’s judgment comes in the form of tears, rather than thunderbolts. Believe that when Jesus said “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” that he meant it---and that God gave His only Son what was requested."
Thanks. I needed that.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
For J. E.: sit tibi terra levis
I just found out one of my master's students died. He had been ill for a while, but evidently the pain got to be too much. The details aren't entirely clear, but either accidentally, or on purpose, he took too many pain pills.
I found out via e-mail. I don't know if any of you have had the same experience of seeing an e-mail entitled simply with a name. You open it up, and the stark news hits.
Students are not supposed to die before their professors. There's something Homerically wrong about it.
J.E. was pugnacious, argumentative, maddening, irascible. He swore and smoked. He was un-P.C. to the extreme. He would most definitely win the "Most Likely to Climb the Clock Tower" Award. He drove me crazy. I liked him immensely. I couldn't make him learn his Latin verb forms even though I met with him every other day, on my own time, mind you. We argued all the time. He loved his dog. He always brought hard candy.
How can someone so vividly alive be dead? And if there is something after this life (and God knows lately I have had some serious periods of doubt) where will J. end up? How far does God's mercy extend?
May the earth lie light upon thee.
I found out via e-mail. I don't know if any of you have had the same experience of seeing an e-mail entitled simply with a name. You open it up, and the stark news hits.
Students are not supposed to die before their professors. There's something Homerically wrong about it.
J.E. was pugnacious, argumentative, maddening, irascible. He swore and smoked. He was un-P.C. to the extreme. He would most definitely win the "Most Likely to Climb the Clock Tower" Award. He drove me crazy. I liked him immensely. I couldn't make him learn his Latin verb forms even though I met with him every other day, on my own time, mind you. We argued all the time. He loved his dog. He always brought hard candy.
How can someone so vividly alive be dead? And if there is something after this life (and God knows lately I have had some serious periods of doubt) where will J. end up? How far does God's mercy extend?
May the earth lie light upon thee.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
I literally died of boredom.
Just finished writing a review of a very tedious (but very scholarly and well written) book on an excruciatingly small corner of ancient Greek political history.* Good grief! main text only about 200 pages, but 100 pages of footnotes!! The headache is slowly dissipating...a couple more glasses of beer may do it.
* I won't name it because s/he may come beat me up when the review comes out...
The odd thing, though, is the following line: "So-and-so's work was literally gilded over..." Now, obviously, the author didn't mean literally, he meant figuratively...but so many people use the word literally in place of its opposite that one reads of unfortunate souls "literally busting a gut laughing," or "literally laughing their heads off"...I'm sure you've come across the same thing. During his discussion of the Corcyrean stasis, Thucydides (3.82.4-5) talks about how in times of stasis (civil war) words lose their regular meanings:
[4] Words had to change their ordinary meaning and to take that which was now given them. Reckless audacity came to be considered the courage of a loyal ally; prudent hesitation, specious cowardice; moderation was held to be a cloak for unmanliness; ability to see all sides of a question inaptness to act on any. Frantic violence, became the attribute of manliness; cautious plotting, a justifiable means of self-defence. [5] The advocate of extreme measures was always trustworthy; his opponent a man to be suspected. To succeed in a plot was to have a shrewd head, to divine a plot a still shrewder; but to try to provide against having to do either was to break up your party and to be afraid of your adversaries.
It literally breaks my heart.
* I won't name it because s/he may come beat me up when the review comes out...
The odd thing, though, is the following line: "So-and-so's work was literally gilded over..." Now, obviously, the author didn't mean literally, he meant figuratively...but so many people use the word literally in place of its opposite that one reads of unfortunate souls "literally busting a gut laughing," or "literally laughing their heads off"...I'm sure you've come across the same thing. During his discussion of the Corcyrean stasis, Thucydides (3.82.4-5) talks about how in times of stasis (civil war) words lose their regular meanings:
It literally breaks my heart.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Good-Bye, Boccaccio
Hello, Summer!
Yes, believe it or not our school year is over, even though winds still shake the darling buds of May. I have just posted my final grades, making Aghaveagh a free woman for the first time in weeks. It's been a month since I've last posted here; the demands of teaching and scholarship have left me little time to indulge in such pasttimes such as blogging.
E pur si muove.
Reading a hundred undergraduate papers on the geography of Dante's Inferno may have scarred me for life...certainly I see myself landing in more and more levels every year.
As for the pursuit of poetry, here's a poem by Lord Byron that is one of my favorites:
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
When we traveled to Greece last summer with a group of students, one of my goals was to find
the spot where Byron had scratched his name onto a pillar of the Temple of Apollo at Sounion . . . alas, you cannot get very close to the temple, and at the time I didn't know where the grafitto was. O, for a pair of binoculars!
Perhaps next time. (Here's where it is, for those of you who might be going in the future, from a photo by Steven
Christenson)
Interestingly enough, we found ourselves on the trail of Byron again in Sintra, Portugal. He stayed at Lawrence's Hotel in 1809. We went to look at the restaurant but it was too expensive for us academic types.
Now, finally, I can go check out what's been happening at MP's place for the last month or so.
Yes, believe it or not our school year is over, even though winds still shake the darling buds of May. I have just posted my final grades, making Aghaveagh a free woman for the first time in weeks. It's been a month since I've last posted here; the demands of teaching and scholarship have left me little time to indulge in such pasttimes such as blogging.
E pur si muove.
Reading a hundred undergraduate papers on the geography of Dante's Inferno may have scarred me for life...certainly I see myself landing in more and more levels every year.
As for the pursuit of poetry, here's a poem by Lord Byron that is one of my favorites:
So, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.
When we traveled to Greece last summer with a group of students, one of my goals was to find
the spot where Byron had scratched his name onto a pillar of the Temple of Apollo at Sounion . . . alas, you cannot get very close to the temple, and at the time I didn't know where the grafitto was. O, for a pair of binoculars! Perhaps next time. (Here's where it is, for those of you who might be going in the future, from a photo by Steven
Christenson) Interestingly enough, we found ourselves on the trail of Byron again in Sintra, Portugal. He stayed at Lawrence's Hotel in 1809. We went to look at the restaurant but it was too expensive for us academic types.
Now, finally, I can go check out what's been happening at MP's place for the last month or so.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
A Meditation on Donne and poetry
BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due, 5
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie: 10
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.
Today is the feast day of John Donne, priest. I have always felt an affinity to Donne. For him, belief is a turbulent, violent maelstrom. Whether tumbling into lustful union with his mistress, or wrestling with his faith, his is, as he puts it, a "holy discontent."
The first poem I remember reading of Donne is his "Song"--
The magic of the strange orthography, the world-weariness of the adynaton, the fantastical mandrake root, whose screams as it is pulled from the ground induces madness--all of this was heady stuff for a girl given to the romantic, who desperately wished for "strange sights, things invisible to see."
I bought a second-hand copy of The Complete Poems and committed several to memory, including The Message, with its lyrical,
and another Song :
Donne led me then to Andrew Marvell, to Richard Lovelace, and to Robert Herrick. Alas, in English class, we read too little of these and too much of what I term the Gift of Watermelon Pickle ilk, free verse and worse: no meter, no rhyme, and (at least to me) no reason. I agree with Robert Frost that writing free verse is like "playing tennis without a net": it's pretty pointless.
Recently I queried my university students as to how many of them knew a poem by heart. Not songs, but poems. Out of a class of fifty, only three hands went up. The text-message generation has no time for memorization, no desire--no need, with Google so close to hand. Rote memorization is a task archaic and useless.
But a poem memorized travels with you. I learned by heart Frost's Stopping by woods on a snowy evening in third grade for a Christmas pageant. I still can recite every word, decades hence. Last winter when a small group of us gathered over a cup of Christmas cheer, we decided to offer a spontaneous recitation--each one performed a poem standing before the mantelpiece of a roaring fire. (It was really good Christmas cheer!)
I haven't memorized any poetry lately So my goal this year is to memorize a poem a week to memory. I think I will pick some old favorites that I haven't yet memorized, and some that are new--well not really new, because for me modern poetry "does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations." By a year's time, I will have 52 poems committed to memory. I would enjoy learning what poems you have memorized and what poems you recommend.
It's a Donne deal.
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to'another due, 5
Labour to'admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv'd, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely'I love you,'and would be loved faine,
But am betroth'd unto your enemie: 10
Divorce mee,'untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you'enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.
Today is the feast day of John Donne, priest. I have always felt an affinity to Donne. For him, belief is a turbulent, violent maelstrom. Whether tumbling into lustful union with his mistress, or wrestling with his faith, his is, as he puts it, a "holy discontent."
The first poem I remember reading of Donne is his "Song"--
| GOE, and catche a falling starre, | |
| Get with child a mandrake roote, | |
| Tell me, where all past yeares are, | |
| Or who cleft the Divels foot, | |
| Teach me to heare Mermaides singing, | 5 |
| Or to keep off envies stinging, | |
| And finde | |
| What winde | |
| Serves to advance an honest minde. | |
| | |
| If thou beest borne to strange sights, | 10 |
| Things invisible to see, | |
| Ride ten thousand daies and nights, | |
| Till age snow white haires on thee, | |
| Thou, when thou retorn'st, wilt tell mee | |
| All strange wonders that befell thee, | 15 |
| And sweare | |
| No where | |
| Lives a woman true, and faire. | |
| | |
| If thou findst one, let mee know, | |
| Such a Pilgrimage were sweet; | 20 |
| Yet doe not, I would not goe, | |
| Though at next doore wee might meet, | |
| Though shee were true, when you met her, | |
| And last, till you write your letter, | |
| Yet shee | 25 |
| Will bee | |
| False, ere I come, to two, or three. |
The magic of the strange orthography, the world-weariness of the adynaton, the fantastical mandrake root, whose screams as it is pulled from the ground induces madness--all of this was heady stuff for a girl given to the romantic, who desperately wished for "strange sights, things invisible to see."
I bought a second-hand copy of The Complete Poems and committed several to memory, including The Message, with its lyrical,
| SEND home my long strayd eyes to mee, | |
| Which (Oh) too long have dwelt on thee; |
| SWEETEST love, I do not goe, | |
| For wearinesse of thee, | |
| Nor in hope the world can show | |
| A fitter Love for mee; | |
| But since that I | 5 |
| Must dye at last, 'tis best, | |
| To use my selfe in jest | |
| Thus by fain'd deaths to dye; | |
| | |
| Yesternight the Sunne went hence, | |
| And yet is here to day, | 10 |
| He hath no desire nor sense, | |
| Nor halfe so short a way: | |
| Then feare not mee, | |
| But beleeve that I shall make | |
| Speedier journeyes, since I take | 15 |
| More wings and spurres then hee. | |
| |
Recently I queried my university students as to how many of them knew a poem by heart. Not songs, but poems. Out of a class of fifty, only three hands went up. The text-message generation has no time for memorization, no desire--no need, with Google so close to hand. Rote memorization is a task archaic and useless.
But a poem memorized travels with you. I learned by heart Frost's Stopping by woods on a snowy evening in third grade for a Christmas pageant. I still can recite every word, decades hence. Last winter when a small group of us gathered over a cup of Christmas cheer, we decided to offer a spontaneous recitation--each one performed a poem standing before the mantelpiece of a roaring fire. (It was really good Christmas cheer!)
I haven't memorized any poetry lately So my goal this year is to memorize a poem a week to memory. I think I will pick some old favorites that I haven't yet memorized, and some that are new--well not really new, because for me modern poetry "does not thrill. It produces absolutely no vibrations." By a year's time, I will have 52 poems committed to memory. I would enjoy learning what poems you have memorized and what poems you recommend.
It's a Donne deal.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
A Mission of Love and Cookies
This past weekend, four young men from All Saints Episcopal Church in Pasadena made the long drive to Fresno, California on a mission of love. Oh, yes, and cookies.
Their goal: to visit St. James Cathedral on Sunday, meet the parishioners, and "be an example of how we understand God's message."
Kevin explains: "The trip was kind of a reaction to a sermon from our rector, Ed Bacon, about love. Love being active and the difficult part in showing love to those who are not nice to you ... So, we wanted to go to one of the churches that was pulling away from TEC [The Episcopal Church] and was not welcoming to gay people. It is easier to not like someone that you have never met or don't know. It is easier to not like someone that you have no personal connection. Maybe, just maybe, we can help push that to a little less of an extreme."
So, Kevin, Andy, David and Nelson piled into their car and drove over two hundred miles to do just that, with a basket of chocolate chip cookies, done up in little cellophane bags with messages of hope and inclusion .
But first, before they went to St. James for the 10:30 service, they visited Holy Family for our eight-o'clock service. Afterwards, at Coffee Hour, we talked about how important it is to make connections; that bigotry can only thrive when it is faceless and impersonal. Once you find out that gay cookies are good cookies, in fact, that they are no different from "straight" cookies, perhaps the barriers of accepting those cookies will collapse, and we'll have a cookie jar filled with all kinds of cookies of all shapes and sizes.
Sure, it's a metaphor. But I happen to think it's a pretty good one.
Kevin reports that the people at St. James were very pleasant, and seemed to like the cookies, and read the messages.
Our visitors also came bearing a message of consolation for Holy Family, whose congregation, wishing to remain in the Episcopal Church, has felt isolated in a Diocese intending to break away.
In an e-mail after the visit, Kevin put it very eloquently:
"While we recognize we don’t have a full understanding of what you have been going through, we have a much deeper appreciation for what an island of hope, peace and inclusion the community has created at Holy Family and the blessed people that are there.
We want to extend our thanks for the warm welcome we received from everyone at Holy Family. I know it is an experience that will be with us for a long time. We also want to thank you for your support – as a church and individuals making a stand for a fully inclusive message of God’s love."
Their parish, All Saints, is a thriving one, with an average Sunday attendance of about 1,000 in two services. I hope that some day soon we can make the trip down and pay a visit there. And bring some cookies.
Their goal: to visit St. James Cathedral on Sunday, meet the parishioners, and "be an example of how we understand God's message."
Kevin explains: "The trip was kind of a reaction to a sermon from our rector, Ed Bacon, about love. Love being active and the difficult part in showing love to those who are not nice to you ... So, we wanted to go to one of the churches that was pulling away from TEC [The Episcopal Church] and was not welcoming to gay people. It is easier to not like someone that you have never met or don't know. It is easier to not like someone that you have no personal connection. Maybe, just maybe, we can help push that to a little less of an extreme."
So, Kevin, Andy, David and Nelson piled into their car and drove over two hundred miles to do just that, with a basket of chocolate chip cookies, done up in little cellophane bags with messages of hope and inclusion .
But first, before they went to St. James for the 10:30 service, they visited Holy Family for our eight-o'clock service. Afterwards, at Coffee Hour, we talked about how important it is to make connections; that bigotry can only thrive when it is faceless and impersonal. Once you find out that gay cookies are good cookies, in fact, that they are no different from "straight" cookies, perhaps the barriers of accepting those cookies will collapse, and we'll have a cookie jar filled with all kinds of cookies of all shapes and sizes.
Sure, it's a metaphor. But I happen to think it's a pretty good one.
Kevin reports that the people at St. James were very pleasant, and seemed to like the cookies, and read the messages.
Our visitors also came bearing a message of consolation for Holy Family, whose congregation, wishing to remain in the Episcopal Church, has felt isolated in a Diocese intending to break away.
In an e-mail after the visit, Kevin put it very eloquently:
"While we recognize we don’t have a full understanding of what you have been going through, we have a much deeper appreciation for what an island of hope, peace and inclusion the community has created at Holy Family and the blessed people that are there.
We want to extend our thanks for the warm welcome we received from everyone at Holy Family. I know it is an experience that will be with us for a long time. We also want to thank you for your support – as a church and individuals making a stand for a fully inclusive message of God’s love."
Their parish, All Saints, is a thriving one, with an average Sunday attendance of about 1,000 in two services. I hope that some day soon we can make the trip down and pay a visit there. And bring some cookies.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
I stand corrected.
MadPriest, in his usual charitable and gentle way, helpfully informs me that my "Irish Seven-Course Meal (for a Saturday Night)" is, in his words,
"uninformed nonsense and completely wrong!"
Mind you, this is the first time Himself has deigned to leave a comment at my humble blog. . .
He continues: "It's a six pack of Guinness and a whiskey chaser. No Irishman would waste his money on a potato on a Saturday night."
Now, who better to extol the virtues of the liquid diet than our beloved Mad Priest? I am convinced. All I can say is, that it better be Jameson's. None of that Bushmill's codswallop.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
"uninformed nonsense and completely wrong!"
Mind you, this is the first time Himself has deigned to leave a comment at my humble blog. . .
He continues: "It's a six pack of Guinness and a whiskey chaser. No Irishman would waste his money on a potato on a Saturday night."
Now, who better to extol the virtues of the liquid diet than our beloved Mad Priest? I am convinced. All I can say is, that it better be Jameson's. None of that Bushmill's codswallop.
Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Welcome, Cecilia!
Cecilia has a heart-breakingly eloquent blog here. I hope you will drop by and say hello, and keep her in your prayers.
Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees,
I'm begging you please to come home, come on home...
Cecilia, you're breaking my heart
You're shaking my confidence daily
Oh, Cecilia, I'm down on my knees,
I'm begging you please to come home, come on home...
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The Great Moral Issue of our Time
Poverty?
War?
Child Abuse?
Nope, it's your genitals. Surprised? read this essay by David Michael Green and you'll see the light. (By the way, it's your genitals that are the problem, not mine, thank you very much. )
This comes by way of Ellie, who has a lovely blog (with cats!) at Child of Illusion. Drop in and say hi!
War?
Child Abuse?
Nope, it's your genitals. Surprised? read this essay by David Michael Green and you'll see the light. (By the way, it's your genitals that are the problem, not mine, thank you very much. )
This comes by way of Ellie, who has a lovely blog (with cats!) at Child of Illusion. Drop in and say hi!
An exercise in courage
AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CHURCH
Conversion of St. Paul, 2007
Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
As you are no doubt aware, our church finds itself in a turbulent, confusing, and painful time. Many issues are involved in our current struggles: authority, hermeneutics, ethical and theological visions and convictions, and the complex relationships of gender, power, and patriarchy. Though the “presenting issue” is the place of LGBTT folk in the Body of Christ, the roots of our conflict go much deeper.
As a priest in the midst of this struggle, it has become clear to me after much prayer and soul-searching, that my spiritual conscience can no longer abide by the laws which I am required to uphold in regard to the blessing of same-sex unions and marriages. It is my conviction that our current ban on such practices is theologically problematic and fundamentally unjust. Upholding such a position (even unwillingly) forces me to bend severely (if not break) my priestly vows, my baptismal covenant, and the Word of God inscribed within my heart. I therefore publicly declare that I will, when requested, officiate at same-sex marriages and offer blessing upon committed same sex unions. I will no longer discriminate against homosexual people when it comes to the exercise of my priestly duties.
I am aware, of course, that the stance I am taking will likely lead to serious consequences, and I am prepared to face these consequences openly and publicly. It may be helpful to consider my action a form of ecclesiastical civil disobedience. With conflict and rhetoric rising in the worldwide communion, too many queer brothers and sisters are being further marginalized and excluded. In some parts of the world, this takes the form of outright violence: as I write, the coordinator of Changing Attitude (a sister organization of Integrity) in Nigeria is living under a death threat from his “fellow Christians”. Here at home, it is often a more subtle form of oppression: exclusion rendered invisible. As a priest and leader in the church, my complicity in upholding our current law makes me at least partially responsible for the ongoing suffering of LGBTT Christians, and I can no longer take part in that. If my current action helps render visible that which has been made invisible, then I will be happy to bear the consequences. I too will stand “outside the gate”, where so many other queer Christians have been sent.
To be clear, there are three main reasons for my choice of taking this stance. On one level, this is a clear issue of justice, solidarity, and human rights. On another level, this is an issue of evangelism: our church’s continuing discrimination against LGBTT people is a scandal which keeps many of my peers from being able to hear the good news of Jesus. And finally, this is an issue of personal integrity: I can no longer, in good conscience, uphold a law which I consider unjust, as well as theologically deficient.
Some might say that my actions sidestep the legitimate process of discernment underway in the church. I understand that concern, and I have wrestled long and hard over what to do, working within our established canons and structures to the best of my ability. However, I also see my current course of action as being part of the wider church’s discernment. We have heard many arguments about the cost of blessing same-sex marriages and ordaining unclosetted queer folk; we also need to recognize that there is a cost as well to not moving in this direction. The cost is a huge amount of suffering for LGBTT Christians who are pressured to remain silent. The cost is that some of us, straight and gay, will no longer be able to abide the status quo, and we will simply cease to obey an unjust law. The cost is that others will quietly leave. That reality needs to be part of our church’s discernment. In this, I am not leaving the church, nor relinquishing my orders. Instead, I offer my current action, with all its consequences, for the ongoing discernment of the Body.
Yours in the unquiet peace of Christ,
The Rev. Shawn Sanford Beck
Let's keep Father Beck in our prayers, and continue to pray for guidance and grace for all our clergy. --Aghaveagh
Conversion of St. Paul, 2007
Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
As you are no doubt aware, our church finds itself in a turbulent, confusing, and painful time. Many issues are involved in our current struggles: authority, hermeneutics, ethical and theological visions and convictions, and the complex relationships of gender, power, and patriarchy. Though the “presenting issue” is the place of LGBTT folk in the Body of Christ, the roots of our conflict go much deeper.
As a priest in the midst of this struggle, it has become clear to me after much prayer and soul-searching, that my spiritual conscience can no longer abide by the laws which I am required to uphold in regard to the blessing of same-sex unions and marriages. It is my conviction that our current ban on such practices is theologically problematic and fundamentally unjust. Upholding such a position (even unwillingly) forces me to bend severely (if not break) my priestly vows, my baptismal covenant, and the Word of God inscribed within my heart. I therefore publicly declare that I will, when requested, officiate at same-sex marriages and offer blessing upon committed same sex unions. I will no longer discriminate against homosexual people when it comes to the exercise of my priestly duties.
I am aware, of course, that the stance I am taking will likely lead to serious consequences, and I am prepared to face these consequences openly and publicly. It may be helpful to consider my action a form of ecclesiastical civil disobedience. With conflict and rhetoric rising in the worldwide communion, too many queer brothers and sisters are being further marginalized and excluded. In some parts of the world, this takes the form of outright violence: as I write, the coordinator of Changing Attitude (a sister organization of Integrity) in Nigeria is living under a death threat from his “fellow Christians”. Here at home, it is often a more subtle form of oppression: exclusion rendered invisible. As a priest and leader in the church, my complicity in upholding our current law makes me at least partially responsible for the ongoing suffering of LGBTT Christians, and I can no longer take part in that. If my current action helps render visible that which has been made invisible, then I will be happy to bear the consequences. I too will stand “outside the gate”, where so many other queer Christians have been sent.
To be clear, there are three main reasons for my choice of taking this stance. On one level, this is a clear issue of justice, solidarity, and human rights. On another level, this is an issue of evangelism: our church’s continuing discrimination against LGBTT people is a scandal which keeps many of my peers from being able to hear the good news of Jesus. And finally, this is an issue of personal integrity: I can no longer, in good conscience, uphold a law which I consider unjust, as well as theologically deficient.
Some might say that my actions sidestep the legitimate process of discernment underway in the church. I understand that concern, and I have wrestled long and hard over what to do, working within our established canons and structures to the best of my ability. However, I also see my current course of action as being part of the wider church’s discernment. We have heard many arguments about the cost of blessing same-sex marriages and ordaining unclosetted queer folk; we also need to recognize that there is a cost as well to not moving in this direction. The cost is a huge amount of suffering for LGBTT Christians who are pressured to remain silent. The cost is that some of us, straight and gay, will no longer be able to abide the status quo, and we will simply cease to obey an unjust law. The cost is that others will quietly leave. That reality needs to be part of our church’s discernment. In this, I am not leaving the church, nor relinquishing my orders. Instead, I offer my current action, with all its consequences, for the ongoing discernment of the Body.
Yours in the unquiet peace of Christ,
The Rev. Shawn Sanford Beck
Let's keep Father Beck in our prayers, and continue to pray for guidance and grace for all our clergy. --Aghaveagh
Friday, March 9, 2007
Aghaveagh's Bubble and Squeak
Another great potato and cabbage dish. The name comes from the sound of the frying.
4 potatoes, unpeeled* (well scrubbed)
1/2 onion, diced
1/4 head or so of cabbage, coarsely chopped
olive oil
salt/pepper to taste
Grate the potatoes.(Turn them while grating and you won't end up with a big flap of peel at the end)
Dunk the potatoes in a bowl of cold water to rinse and squeeze them out. (If you're worried about the vitamins, use the potato rinse water in your bread recipe). Mix in the onions.
Heat a large pan (no stick is good; cast iron is better) and add olive oil to coat. Add potato/onion mixture and reduce heat to low. Cook until crispy on the bottom. Turn over. Add cabbage to the top of the potato mixture and cover. (The steam will cook the cabbage)
When the bottom is crispy again, raise the heat and mix together the cabbage and potatoes to the desired crispiness.
Dish up (serve 2 for dinner, 4 as side dish).
If you are a ketchup person, add some. (Don't worry, I won't tell.)
If you are feeling bold, a bit of crumbled Stilton is grand.
*now, why would you want to peel the praties for, anyway? It's too much work and the goodness is in the peel!
4 potatoes, unpeeled* (well scrubbed)
1/2 onion, diced
1/4 head or so of cabbage, coarsely chopped
olive oil
salt/pepper to taste
Grate the potatoes.(Turn them while grating and you won't end up with a big flap of peel at the end)
Dunk the potatoes in a bowl of cold water to rinse and squeeze them out. (If you're worried about the vitamins, use the potato rinse water in your bread recipe). Mix in the onions.
Heat a large pan (no stick is good; cast iron is better) and add olive oil to coat. Add potato/onion mixture and reduce heat to low. Cook until crispy on the bottom. Turn over. Add cabbage to the top of the potato mixture and cover. (The steam will cook the cabbage)
When the bottom is crispy again, raise the heat and mix together the cabbage and potatoes to the desired crispiness.
Dish up (serve 2 for dinner, 4 as side dish).
If you are a ketchup person, add some. (Don't worry, I won't tell.)
If you are feeling bold, a bit of crumbled Stilton is grand.
*now, why would you want to peel the praties for, anyway? It's too much work and the goodness is in the peel!
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