PeaceBang

Excellent Book for Training Pastoral Associates

It has been a real joy to train our first group of Pastoral Caregivers at my church. As I prepare to go on sabbatical, it means the world to have a terrific team of lay pastors to “walk the parish” and to make calls and visits on behalf of the church. We introduced them to the congregation this past Sunday and will do a formal Commission in the fall.

But for now, I just want to share that although I read a ton of books in preparation for the training sessions, and have taken many classes, seminars and workshops on pastoral care, I found this book to be the best guide of all in organizing our sessions.

A Pastor In Every Pew: Equipping Laity For Pastoral Care by Leroy Howe. I just think that, chapter for chapter, Howe’s book is the most conversant with the realities of pastoral caregiving, that it anticipates all the most significant questions and anxieties that arise for laypeople learning to do pastoral care, and that, although written from a strictly Christian perspective, it is the most useable for Unitarian Universalists.

It looks like ChristianBook.com has them on sale.

Four stars and two thumbs up!

The Dying Gaul: A PeaceBang Review

Did anyone see “The Dying Gaul,” based on a Craig Lucas play by the same name and directed by the playwright? It was a 1995 production starring Patricia Clarkson, Peter Skarsgaard and Campbell Scott. Reviews and a precis are here.

This was a finely acted piece about a Hollywood producer who seduces a gay writer into selling his beautiful screenplay (also called “The Dying Gaul”) to the studio for a million dollars on one condition: that he change one of the lovers in the story to a woman. After the deed is done, the pair easily move into a sexual relationship, and soon after that into a triangular intrigue of manipulation, lies and a lot of internet chatting. There’s some New Age bathos, a touch of Lucas’ earlier screenplay “Longtime Companion,” and an obvious attempt to create something that at least touches the hem of the garment we call Greek Tragedy, but which, in my opinion, does not succeed. If you want to see a brilliant contemporary Greek tragedy, rent “House of Sand and Fog.”

Aside from a very badly directed and written, truncated ending (SweetieBang and I both far preferred the “alternate ending” provided by the DVD extras), the film is diverting enough, well-acted and brings up great, let’s-sit-up-and-talk-late-into-the-night-about-it moral issues. However, it seems that none of the movie reviews I’ve read even mentioned what was, for me, the salient point of the movie, which is that people who dabble in spiritual philosophies totally alone and apart from a religious community are playing with fire, and risk deluding themselves in terrible ways, twisting the message of their chosen path to suit their own ego needs and even to justify acts of evil. God knows that we who live in religious community are easily enough deluded together, but “The Dying Gaul” was, for me, a chilling reminder that calling oneself a disciple of any tradition while flying entirely under the radar of a disciplining and discerning community can be a dangerous path indeed. Especially in Hollywood, standing in for Sodom and Gomorrah in today’s popular consciousness.

See it and let me know what you think.

There Will Be Blood: A PeaceBang Review

You’ve undoubtedly heard the buzz about Paul Thomas Anderson’s magnificent film, “There Will Be Blood.” I don’t have time to write much about it, but I thought it was a masterpiece.

Daniel Day Lewis is riveting as a misanthropic oil man - he’s in nearly every scene and does an impeccable job creating an unforgettable character that should earn him an Academy Award and cement his status as one of our best living actors — but it’s Paul Thomas Anderson’s story-telling skills that really got me in this one. It’s a wonderful film: totally American yet Shakespearean in scale and operatic in emotion. The first hours can be slow, but the cinematography and exquisitely detailed period set pieces, plus the thrilling score (so fascinating that I had to nudge my friend and say, “This music is SO COOL” to which he whispered back that someone from Radiohead had composed it. Is this true?).

So, I loved it. It was well worth the 2 hour and 40 minute investment. Paul Dano is to be commended for holding his own on screen with the demonically talented Day-Lewis, and I think all preachers should rush right out and see it on the biggest screen they can find. This is not a renter. This is a go-see-a-matinee and take sermon notes work of art.

Attend the Tale Of Sweeney Todd

After at least ten years of patient waiting, I finally got to see the cinematic version of “Sweeney Todd.”

Before I discuss the movie, let me say that I think it’s one of the most genius pieces of musical theatre ever written — it is, after all, the musical Leonard Bernstein once admitted he was quite jealous he hadn’t composed himself — and I had the great privilege of playing the female lead, Mrs. Lovett, in a 1994 production (Good Lord, was it that long ago!?). I adore the score note for note, and I thought it would bother me a lot that neither of the film’s leads could sing and that so much of the score would be edited out for (I suppose) reasons of pacing and relevance. After all, a six minute song about baking people into meat pies, so charming and rolicking onstage, would just seem like a pretentious indulgence of Sondheim lyrics on the screen.

But I shouldn’t have worried. It’s a fantastic movie. My nerves have been shaky lately, it’s true, but I thought I know this score inside and out, I know all the dialogue, I know all the business, none of the murders could possibly surprise me, and I’m well-acquainted with Tim Burton’s cinematic style. Wow, though. Even with that level of familiarity I was gasping at times, clutching at my friend’s sleeve, and overwrought by the intensity of the violence and the sadness of it all. I was practicing deep breathing the rest of the day and had to play a soothing lullaby CD before bed (thanks, Chris and Regina and Brian!). This film packs a wallop.

It’s true — Depp doesn’t have the voice for the role but he more than makes up for any vocal deficiencies with his acting, his total willingness to get lost in Benjamin Barker, and Helena Bonham Carter is such an alluringly damaged Goth goddess, you almost don’t care that she has practically no singing ability at all. Those eyes! That ratted hair! I assume that the average audience member lost 75% of her lyrics and dialogue since she near-whispers everything but she’s like a silent film star — who needs dialogue when you’ve got eyes like that? I painted my nails in a deep blue-black in tribute. If I could drag around for the next few days in tatted lace gloves and ratty velvet gowns with deep-cut bodices, I would. No one makes decrepitude fun like HB-C.

The secondary cast is perfect — and I so appreciated that the sailor Anthony was scruffy and raggedy as he should have been; he’s so often done up like that sailor boy on the Cracker Jack box and that’s all wrong. Some little English rosebud plays the locked-up ingenue Joanna, with one of those perfect nymphs-and-shepherds pure British sopranos that totally redeemed the often-insipid “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” aria for me. Let’s not even talk about Alan Rickman as the lecherous creep Judge Turpin! Alan, you will always be my heartthrob from “Sense and Sensibility” and it just hurt me to see you get stabbed in the jugular like that. There’s no respect.

Look also for Sascha Baron Cohen as the arrogant mountebank Pirelli — another wonderful performance for our “Borat” (is there anything this guy can’t do?) that requires him to transition from twinkling, unctuous fathead to cobra-like predator in a split second.

So this is a great triumph for director Tim Burton and another marvelous collaboration with Johnny Depp, who should just get some kind of lifetime achievement award for being the coolest actor in the world already.

And will someone please mount a local production of this show so I can try to play Mrs. Lovett again?

The Story of Carlton Pearson

You might remember this story about the charismatic pastor Carlton Pearson who got slain by the Holy Spirit one night and became a universalist.

I’m preaching on the free and responsible search for truth and meaning this Sunday and listening to his story on This American Life at Panera and trying not to cry. My sermon is called “The Free, Responsible (And Sometimes Shocking) Search for Truth and Meaning.”

I was doing okay not bawling until I hear a recording of Pearson reading some Scripture (I John, 2) to his congregation and when
he says, in a voice full of passionate intensity and love “Listen to this, babies,” I lose it.
Napkins! Napkins!

To think of being named an actual heretic in this day and age. Heart-wrenching.

(It’s a real shame that the reporter doesn’t seem to have the vaguest clue about Universalism — it’s a serious and seriously upsetting omission — when he means Universalists he says “Unitarians” (as in “The Unitarians stopped believing in Hell a long time ago). He also mistakenly reports that the United Church of Christ is “the only denomination that accepts gay marriage.” )

Better Get To Livin’

I saw this video on Jezebel last night and almost keeled over with delight.

Check it out, and share it with your favorite Female Negativo, ’cause that’s what Dolly would want!

Dolly and Amy Sedaris, brazilliant.

“Happy Feet:” A PeaceBang Review

I must have been the only person in America to find this heart-warming tale about Emperor penguins really creepy and incredibly racist. All I ever heard about it was how charming it was, how toe-tappingly inspiring and how great the animation.

Yikes! The adult penguins were downright scary, with cold beady eyes and weird voices. And where was the outcry over Robin Williams’ voicing of the character Lovelace, doing a really cheap Jamaican routine that took me right back to the bad old days of the minstrel show? Cripes, was that offensive! D’ya think the animation world could maybe try to make a film that isn’t laden with the crassest kind of racist stereotypes? I mean, just to see if they could do it? Like a kind of special challenge? I think if they tried really hard, they might be able to include a Latino character who isn’t a sex-obsessed gangsta slacker, for instance.

So cranky Auntie PeaceBang hated this movie and doesn’t recommend it for the kiddies or the adults. My nephews were enthralled, however, so what do I know.

Volver

Another reason to just love Pedro Almodovar.

His films always have at least one performance that just quietly slays me. In this picture, Penelope Cruz was really fantastic (how come she’s never nearly as strong or authoritative a presence in any of her American films?), but Blanca Portillo was incandescent.

I said to my sister that I loved this movie because none of the characters needed to end up with a man at the end to make it interesting or memorable. In fact, much more to my taste, the movie begins and ends with women taking care of one another. Pedro Almodovar trusts that to be interesting enough for his viewers, and I notice that the reviewers who hated the film just couldn’t stand how much he seems to love his female characters.

Penelope Cruz has the greatest hair and eye make-up EVER in this movie. It’s obvious that the costume designers padded her butt for some reason, but that doesn’t detract from her sublimity. I remember seeing her in “Belle Epoque” when she was just about twenty and she was an incredibly breathtaking unknown. Good for her for getting her great Sophia Loren/Anna Magnanani part at last.

Thanks, Philip Gulley

Last night I was on my way into the city to meet a pal for his birthday dinner when the T train stopped cold. No problem; that happens. I still figured I’d make it to Cambridge a lot earlier than I would have had I been driving, and I’d even have some time to shop for a sock monkey for my friend before dinner. The train was air-conditioned, so I was comfortable and fine.

After about fifteen minutes, the other passengers and I started to realize something was seriously wrong. Finally the conductor’s voice came on the PA, apologizing for the delay and announcing a FIRE between Park and Downtown Crossing stations.

Oh. Oh.
Suddenly I was not so okay. A FIRE?

See, I have a tendency to get panic attacks when stuck in enclosed places LIKE THE SUBWAY TRAIN BURIED FAR UNDERNEATH THE WORLD IN THE COLD, RAT-INFESTED DARK.

I knew I didn’t have a stray Ativan or Valium in my bag, ’cause I only get those from my doctor when I’m flying somewhere and would rather not break into a heart-pounding, terrified sweat three miles in the air over Topeka, Kansas.

I knew that I could let my mind start racing (”Oh my God, a FIRE? What happened? Was there a BOMB? Are there TERRORISTS in Boston? How about ARSON? Is MARVIN THE TORCH running around setting fire to T stations? Why don’t they let us out at South Station and put us on a shuttle, or let us get a cab or a bus, or WALK to where we need to go? I could walk to Cambridge! At least I wouldn’t be stuck in the dark underground in this freezing cold airless CASKET with all these nice, calm Bostonians who don’t know we’re all going to DIE!), or I could let go of control, turn off my monkey thoughts, and read the nice book I had just checked out of the library.

I opted for the latter. Especially since, as I said, everyone was being so gracious and nice and patient and I didn’t want to cause a scene. In fact, I’d like to mention here that Boston folks have really impressed me lately. I’ve been attending some big, rowdy Red Sox-related events in the city and have found people to be fun, friendly and really delightful, whereas in the past the crowds seemed more like those guys in the ad for the movie “300″ — you know, the ones who all look like WWF champs and like they don’t know how to use a knife and fork?

Anyway, I decided to do some deep breathing and to read the book I had just found at the library called Porch Talk by Philip Gulley, a Quaker pastor from Indiana. The book is hilariously funny, charming and extremely endearing. Gulley writes like I wish I could : he’s wickedly sarcastic but manages to be so in a way that’s homey, sweet and sly and never snarly or caustic . I suppose that’s the difference between a small-town Indiana boy and a girl who was raised by drama queen parents (I mean that with love, Mom and Dad) and New York Jews.

I’m so grateful I just happened to have this book in my purse — I usually don’t bring reading material on the subway with me because reading and riding makes me nauseous — but it kept me from having a nervous breakdown during the hour we were trapped underground, and I now have a huge crush on Philip Gulley. I mean, he’s a great writer, a faithful Universalist Quaker, and extremely CUTE. Bless your heart, Pastor Gulley. C’mon, is this guy swoon-worthy or what?

“Jesus Camp:” A PeaceBang Review

I finally saw “Jesus Camp,” Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady’s 2006 documentary about Pastor Becky Fischer’s Pentecostalist Kids On Fire camp, which used to be held for three days every year in North Dakota.

I heard a lot about this film when it came out. I read a dozen horrified reviews and heard from a lot of religious liberals who found the content of the film deeply disturbing and who compared Becky Fischer to Hitler.
I was prepared to be sickened by what I saw.
I was not. I was definitely angered and irritated, but I saw some really good things happening in these children’s lives. I suppose my “tolerant” liberal fans out there will want to give me a toilet whirlie for saying so.

So what did I see?
I saw charismatic Pentecostalists behaving like charismatic Pentecostalists have been behaving for thousands of years: speaking in tongues, taking the Bible literally, engaging in group-think that I disagree with, having a theology I find in many ways abhorrent, and having intensely emotional experiences in worship.

In Pastor Becky Fischer I saw a dedicated, hard-working youth pastor whose theology I find really awful in some aspects, but whose creativity and sincere faith is undeniable. Scary message? Absolutely. Hitler? What?? Wouldn’t it be great if people could actually understand, and have a context for, what they’re seeing in religious material like this without freaking out and giving way to total demonization of people whose traditions they have no knowledge of?

Actually, I went away from the film more disturbed by the liberal reactions to it, than to the actual film.

This harkens back to one of my earlier posts, but let me repeat myself here: it would be a good thing if more Americans learned about religious traditions so that they wouldn’t be so all-fired horrified whenever they encountered one with which they passionately disagree. Sure, I wouldn’t raise my kids the way these conservative fundamentalists in Missouri do, but I can watch them on film without wanting to refer to them as “lunatics” and “monsters” (two words used in reviews of this film). They didn’t make up this way of being religious — they inherited it from previous generations. The hysteria over this film baffles me. If you saw a film of Catholics lining up to take Communion, would you recoil in horror and say, “Oh my GOD, they’re pretending to drink a man’s blood and eat his body!!” No you wouldn’t, because you know something about Catholicism. Some of your friends are Catholic. You are able to disagree with aspects of their tradition without having a nervous breakdown about how they raise their children.

“BUT THEY’RE INDOCTRINATING THEIR CHILDREN!”
Yes. I think so, too.

“BUT THEY’RE TRYING TO MAKE THIS A CHRISTIAN NATION AND TO INFLUENCE THE GOVERNMENT!”
The last time I looked, Unitarian Universalists like me were trying to influence the government, too. (Hey, didn’t I see you at the Marriage Equality rally? Yea, I met with my senator on the issue, too).
Newsflash: conservative Christians believe that Christianity is the one true religion. They feel called to evangelize about the saving blood of Christ to everyone. It’s been going on for at least centuries and its a central commitment of certain sects of Christianity. Relax, already. Lutherans, Jews, Catholics, Presbyterians and probably even the Quakers have offices in Washington, DC. While it’s not (necessarily) part of those traditions to pray for a Christian nation, it is part of their traditions to try to influence policy. Part of my religious tradition’s commitment is to fight for the continued separation of church and state. As we have always done, we’ll battle these issues in the public square. So will our children. That’s how it works.
We’ll keep advocating for freedom of reproductive choice, and they’ll keep praying for God to appoint the right judges who will outlaw it. If one of their children bombs an abortion clinic, one of our children may prosecute them and put them in prison. And so it goes, in the ongoing fight to define “righteousness” and to live by it.

The thing that frosts me is when liberals holler about a film like this and claim, by way of comparison, ideological superiority while naming “them” as ignorant, crazy drones. Not only is that an uninformed, simplistic attitude, it’s completely unproductive and leads to nothing but more deeply entrenched intractability on both sides.

So Pastor Becky Fischer, if you’re out there, I think we should have lunch sometime. We have a WHOLE lot to disagree on, but you know what? We have an awful lot to talk about, too. We’re both considered dangerous by some of the same people, and girl, I’d like to buy you a drink for that.
And by the way, I admire you for being honest in this interview.