PeaceBang

The Fam

When I was a little kid my Mom would often say, “I love you a million, trillion hearts.” That went on for years. When we talk on the phone still today, we always say “I love you” before we hang up (it’s a family thing with all of us). Lately when I tell her I love her before hanging up, Mom has been responding “I love you MORE.” And then I say, “I love YOU more!” and then we go back and forth until she goes, “Okay!” and then we crack up laughing.

Let me just say for all of you who are dreading the family thing this week that I feel for you. I feel for you and I pray for you, because my immediate family and I have gone through some bloody battles indeed and fought for the relative peace and harmony we enjoy today. I remember when Mom was in rehab and immediately thereafter, when a letter from her in my mailbox at college would start my heart to pounding with dread. I’d have to take it unopened to my therapist Jan and read it in her office where I felt safe. And I don’t even want to tell you how much work my sis and I have done trying to better understand each other over the years! But it was worth every screaming fight we had because we had a common goal and we got there.

Family is an intense business, my friends. Nothing hurts like family. Romance gone bad comes close, but not very. Family pain is like nothing else.

So be careful out there as the holidays begin, with all their tremulous expectation, vulnerability, control freakishness on parade, and sarcasm that cuts. Keep your friends on speed dial, take long walks and breathe deep, and remember that there is One who loves you perfectly, as you are, and that you don’t need to perform, to achieve, to conform, to fib, or to make nice-nice to earn that love.

To my family: I am thankful for you every day. I wish we could all be together on Thanksgiving (BrotherBang, Sister-In-LawBang and NephewsBangs, it’s such a joy to have you here that I’ve been getting misty-eyed over it all morning) but it’s wonderful to know that we’re together in spirit. I love you a million, trillion hearts.

On The Thanksgiving Playlist

I just burned the CD for dinner. On it:

Squirrel Nut Zippers “The Suits Are Picking Up the Bill”
Harry Connick, Jr. “Pure Imagination/Candy Man”
Ray Charles “How Long Has This Been Going On”
Lisa Stansfield “Down in the Depths on the 90th Floor”
Bette Midler “Birds” and “Come On-A My House”
kd lang “Summer Fling”
Nina Simone “I Put A Spell On You” and “Love Me Or Leave Me”
Cab Calloway “The Jumpin’ Jive”
Eva Cassidy “Hallelujah, I Love Him So”
kd land and Tony Bennett “Wonderful World”
U2 “In A Little While”
Klea Blackhurst “You’re An Old Smoothie”
Elis Regina “Canto De Ossanha”
Rufus Wainwright “I Don’t Know What It Is”
Pink Martini “Let’s Never Stop Falling In Love”
MIKA “Love Today”
Lena Horne “I’m Glad There Is You”
John Legend “PDA”
Fascinao “Tapas”

I love this part of Thanksgiving planning. And it is perhaps a good time to tell you that I have a Mog (a music blog) at http://mog.com/peacebang.

What’s rocking your ears lately?

He Misses His Depression

Here’s a provocative piece called “I Miss My Depression” by Tim Bugansky.

I’m surprised. I was not aware that depression led to creativity and feelings of being “more deeply alive.” The manic episodes in manic depression, maybe, but not straight-up depression. I thought that the very definition of depression was to be cut off, dragged into the depths of melancholia or numbness, unresponsive. This isn’t to invite quibbling over the author’s experience (and label of “depressed”) but to express genuine curiosity and desire to better understand.

Do any of you miss your depression after going on medication? Or do you rather feel overwhelmingly grateful to be relieved of it? Does this article resonate with you, make you angry, or neither? I am working on a sermon on depression for December and would like to hear from you, anonymously of course.

BWOH!!!*

I Can Has Cheezburger is especially cute this weekend. Since I missed Friday Cat Blogging, consider this a CATch-up.

*Bwoh is an exclamation communicating that one is fairly overwhelmed by extreme cuteness.

Like-Minded?

Over the years I’ve heard various Unitarian Universalists say that they appreciate our congregations for the opportunity to be with “like-minded” people. There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s only human to want to share community with people whose values we share.

But lately I’ve been thinking that I’m not sure that we’re necessarily as “like-minded” as we assume. I think, in fact, that we’re just as prone to enforced conformity as the next community, and that there’s a whole lot more diversity of perspective, opinion and belief than most of us are aware of. What I mean is, while we wring our hands about the lack of racial and “class” diversity in our congregations (I’m using quotes there because I’m not exactly sure what I mean by class, but I know it’s a huge and real issue among us), there are many other kinds of genuine diversity among us that have yet to be plumbed and brought out.

Theology. Class. Values. Economic realities beyond the surface (”everyone has a big house” — “everyone has a nice car” — no they don’t, and some who do are using credit cards to buy groceries and prescriptions. Some who drive old beaters and are wearing moth-eaten sweaters are living in beautiful homes they own free and clear and have no debt — you can’t necessarily tell who is “of means” by exteriors). Politics. Thoughts on the market economy. Parenting practices. The gender wars. Our experience of various “isms.” My curiosity about the way individuals in the faith community think about these things — and I mean really think– their unvarnished thoughts– increases all the time. Because my expectations for the faith community are shifting a bit. Where I used to think we should be doing deep inner work that would equip us to go out and save the world, I am now starting to think that maybe just learning how to abide with others in a spirit of appreciative inquiry and even love is the best training ground for all the challenges of the world. I’ve been fussing with myself about how to offer more opportunities for spiritual practices at our church and it’s dawning on me that just learning how to be in community in this contentious world IS a spiritual practice.

I suspect that small group ministries are doing the best job in our UU congregations in providing the space and time for the sharing of those deeper diversities I just referenced. Am I right? Does anyone want to testify for small group ministries here?

Church Fair

We had our harvest fair at church today and it was just beautiful. The building with a beehive humming with lots and lots of volunteers, visitors, the aroma of great food and the crackle of autumnal energy. The parish hall looked absolutely beautiful: dried flower arrangements against the far wall, the silent auction set up in the middle, homemade baked goods, jams and relishes against the back wall, handmade crafts on the right, and a book sale in the parlor. The kitchen crew cooked up delicious lunches and served them to a steady stream of customers. Children’s toys were downstairs, “grandma’s attic” up.

I worked the book table for a few hours and since I didn’t have on my name tag, no one from outside the congregation knew, or cared, who I was. It was a really nice feeling. I was able to watch the fair in action from an ‘up on the balcony’ perspective, observing the dance and the dancers move in their old, time-honored patterns.

And tonight I feel ineffably sad and extremely mortal. This congregation is 365 years old. On some days I simply pray that I won’t be remembered for something really stupid like burning down the parsonage (”They finally got a woman and she burned down the house with her curling iron!”) or leave any scandalous legacy, as did Deodate Lawson in the 17th century when he disappeared for months at a time (probably moonlighting) and supported the persecution and hanging of those accused of witchcraft in Salem. Sometimes the long, grand tradition of this historic congregation overwhelms me and I feel that I am an insignificant blip on its map — a map whose origins predate the founding of this nation. What a tiny bit of time we are given to live out such grand passion; the building up of God’s kingdom on earth. What a frail, vain creature to accomplish even a tiny portion of what God has given me to hope and dream.

Tomorrow I’ll stand in the pulpit and look to the back of the meetinghouse which bears the likenesses of most of my 27 male predecessors. Hello boys. Did you ever feel like an insignificant blip, too? I do love them, one and all, flawed and frail or magnificent and memorable as they were. Someday my portrait will be up there, too. Already my tenure is far longer than the sad soul who died a year after being installed, and a few years longer than some of the more tempestuous firebrands. My favorite predecessor from the distant past is the Reverend David Barnes, D.D., who served the congregation for 57 years (1754-1811)) and was one of the first Unitarians in New England. He’s on there, too, in silhouette, of course. What a cool dude. Because of him, the congregation was one of the few in the area that got through the great Unitarian Controversy without a major rift. Dr. Barnes had been preaching the liberal gospel for such a long time it was a non-issue.

Can you imagine? Fifty-seven years?

It’s a tough one to figure: how do you make a positive contribution to the life of an historic institution without trying to settle in and become part of the furniture?

Patrick O’Neill On “What Is Sacred”

This article appeared in the most recent issue of the UU World and it just made my day when I read it last week. It’s this sort of piece that renews my commitment to Unitarian Universalism. Thanks, Patrick. I needed that.

12-Steppin’ UUs

When I first joined ACOA (Adult Children of Alcoholics) in 1986, I was totally turned off by the Calvinist theology and revivalist spiritual culture of the 12-step program. I wrestled with the language of the steps but stayed with the program because I honored the honesty and love of the people there and because they were speaking my truth. I owe a lot of my sanity and well-being to the program, and for that I shall always be grateful.

I am working again with the steps on a writing project and in my parish ministry and want to ask: 12-steppin’ Unitarian Universalists, would you be willing to share your interpretation of them and how you work them from your own spiritual perspective?

What advice and insights would you share with a very bright, non-theistic, non-conformist Unitarian Universalist who has walked out of their first couple of meetings in frustration at the what feels like the too-much-gooey-Christian-piety of it? (This isn’t for ME, gang… as regular readers know, I’m a very gooey Christian.)

Bring on your wisdom, friends. Long comments most welcome, and lots of ‘em. Link to your own blogs if you like.

THE TWELVE STEPS

1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol–that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

It’s That Time Of Year

Hola, PeaceBangers!

Domestic responsibilities are calling my name every time I walk through the door so I likely won’t be blogging much until after Turkey Day. I’m having a very traditional menu: turkey, green apple and sausage stuffing (a new recipe from last year that was insanely delicious and popular — so much so that there were tragically no leftovers), Mom’s cole slaw, green bean casserole, mashed taters, cranberry sauce, and rolls. I’ve started to shop for all the ingredients (appetizers will be Spanish-themed because it’s currently my favorite cuisine) and have assembled and washed all the serving platters. Linens are out and ready to be ironed. I’ll pull out the dishes and serving pieces this weekend to decide on place settings. The guest rooms need to be cleaned and winter bedding dragged out. CDs are yet to be burned for the occasion, and I’ll slice up the bread tonight and set it out to start it stale-ifying on the counter for the stuffing. Ladyfingers have been purchased for the trifle I make every year, and I’m marking up wine articles from Food & Wine magazine to guide my booze shopping later in the week. I have to get my nails done. I would still love to zoom to NYC for a night on Sunday so I can see Genie and meet her husband and baby.

Church is relatively calm for the moment, thank God, with things humming away for Sunday’s service. The Youth Group has a neat worship planned for the Sunday after Thanksgiving which is great, because I’m hosting a clergy breakfast for local minister gals on that next Monday morning. I’m hosting a UU minister’s cluster meeting tomorrow morning for which the apple cider, croissants, muffins and bagels and cream cheese have been purchased. The paper products I have at home.

I am almost caught up on laundry and have purchased most of the Christmas presents for the church staff. I had some creative ideas this year and I’m excited.

I have meetings or social plans every night this week except for tonight, so I’m going to get some cooking and cleaning done and prepare Sunday’s order of service. If I have any extra time in the next days I really should use them for home-making, prep cooking and reading.

Enjoy the archives in the meantime, since I doubt I’ll be writing anything more than the occasional little blurb.

Love and kisses, PB

Fake Steve Jobs, I Love You

A few weeks ago I wrote this post about an offensive MasterCard commercial featuring a young white woman engaged in a series of activities that only very privileged people generally get to do: stuff like diving into a pristine blue ocean, taking singing lessons and (and this was where I snorted and threw my root beer at the TV) FENCING.

To add insult to injury, the soundtrack to the ad is a vapid female voice singing “These Are a Few Of My Favorite Things” in just the same tone one might imagine Marie Antoinette ordering another elaborate gown from her marchand de mode. La-di-da. What do the simple folk do? The whole thing made me gag and was doubly disappointing because of my fondness for the old “priceless” MasterCard ad campaign (which I have actually referenced in more than one stewardship campaign at church).

Much to my surprise, a group of commenters descended upon my post to criticize my commercial-bashing, led by someone calling himself “Fake Steve Jobs.” Fake Steve had a lot of interesting points but went on way beyond my capacity to respond, and the rest just sounded like cranky trolls so I mostly ignored them (plus, they were totally unpersuasive). While I’m happy to respond at great length to theological comments in religion-related posts, I just don’t keep at it con brio about much else, and especially not when I suspect I’m being trolled.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I picked up the Boston Globe today and read this article about Fake Steve Jobs, who turns out to be Dan Lyons, a senior editor at Forbes magazine. Check out the Fake Steve Jobs blog, but don’t do it while drinking unless you want a caffeine-enhanced nasal flushing (I’m glad I was having organic white peach tea, which didn’t hurt too badly).

Fake Steve Jobs, I bow to your snark genius and your ability to be Fake Steve Jobs while holding down a serious day job (which you should definitely not quit for a post on the debate team, now that I know what you do). I salute you across the wide chasm separating our lives — you, a high-powered finance dude and I, a small village pastor. I will always treasure that brief exchange we shared with fond, bittersweet tenderness, remembering it in my old age as an unrequited romance that I badly muffed. I want to verbally spar with you until we both keel over at our keyboards for lack of fluids. I want to go see movies with you and eviscerate them afterward over tapas and rioja.
I want you to be the one to whom I sarcastically quote passages from hideously self-indulgent spiritual memoirs I’m reading in bed. I want you to explain why my Fidelity retirement investments are doing so incredibly well even though I picked them through the time-honored “eenie-meenie-minie-moe” method. I want you to come to my Thanksgiving dinner and carve the turkey because I know you’re man enough to wield that knife and to cut deep.

Fake Steve Jobs, you make me swoon. Please give Dan Lyons a big kiss from me.

(look how cute he is!!! But married to a beautiful blonde! Curses! )