Witnessing, UU Style

I had to be at church at 8:30 this morning (meaning I had to leave my house at 7:30 — total crap), and when I pulled into the parking lot I noticed a scruffy-looking guy just sitting in his Buick puffing a cigar. Thinking nothing of it, I grabbed my stuff and started to head up to the sanctuary when he stopped me:

HIM: Hey, when does the church service start?
ME: Oh, the first is at 9:15 — more of a meditative one — and the contemporary service is at 11:00.
HIM: (glancing toward the church) So do you preach out of the King James Bible?

I paused and bit my lip, laughing a little. I couldn’t help it.

ME: Um, no. Not quite.
HIM: So it’s something completely different?
ME: Well…let’s just say we’re a church that teaches you how to think, not what to think.
HIM: Ah. Well, that settles it.

Now, failing to notice the conspicuous lack of a cross anywhere on the church grounds can be understood, but I’m at a loss to imagine what KJV-believing church flies a giant Pride flag in plain view on a busy Orange County street.

Making It Right

“With a palmful of stars, I throw them like dice; I throw them on the table, repeatedly, until the desired constellation appears.” — Björk, “Desired Constellation”

I lived in Colorado for a year-and-a-half, a span of time marked by tremendous upheaval — the effects of which are still being felt in my daily life. As dark as that period was for me, it was kicked off by a free ticket to see Björk at the Red Rocks Amphitheater. Of that entire concert, one song in particular took residence in my heart. It followed me home and haunted my thoughts for days. The feeling was seemingly quite mutual among the thousands of fans gathered that night; we all stood silently, amazed, the distant whirr of I-70 audible against her voice.

By some precious miracle, not long after I was able to obtain a bootleg recording from that very same evening at Red Rocks. I listen to it often. It serves as a reminder of where I came from, before everything changed. Grief and joy together. I think that’s the way it is with the best experiences.

There are few things in the world as sacred to me as this, not just for the music’s sake, but for the worlds of memory forever attached to it.

It’s In Our Hands

“Now, aren’t we scaring ourselves unnecessarily? Aren’t we trying too hard? It’s in our hands. It always was.” — Björk, “It’s In Our Hands”

This is a daily ritual for me. Glorious.

Well Unguilty

If you’ve never seen Little Britain, I commend it to you, if only for Vicky Pollard. The following is one of my absolute favorites — Dawn French is particularly hysterical.

OK, I Admit It

I had McDonald’s tonight. Someone tell me, though: when did they start putting nutritional information on the wrappers? Does anyone find this useful? Even if something only has 5 grams of fat in it, you have total assurance that it’s completely processed and synthetic, so what difference does it make? Besides, if you’re eating McDonald’s, you won’t give a rat crap what the graphs say anyway. And such was true for me.

While I’m at it, I’ll also take the time to admit that I once watched Supersize Me while eating a Supersized #2 and a 10-piece Chicken McNuggets with Sweet ‘n Sour sauce. Forgive me, Morgan, for I have sinned.

There. I feel much better.

I Have Two Thoughts

First thing is this: I really don’t want to get myself involved in the response to the Virginia Tech shootings – like everyone, I have my own private response to national (scale) tragedies, and generally I like to stay uninvolved until I have an informed opinion that I feel needs to be shared. I pay attention to everything and watch it unfold, and then, if it really doesn’t involve me (as indeed I have absolutely nothing to do with the university, nor do I know anybody who has ever attended), I will speak about it in terms of a completed past.

Having said that, I would like to respond to the responses that I have encountered in the last couple of days.
(Keep reading…)

If

If there’s a Hell
then God designed it;
If Evil came to be
then She created it.
Was it part of Her plan?
You tell me –
pick one, though.
Is She all-loving?
All-knowing?
If so, then how did such a
MONSTROUS
detail
escape Her attention?

Don’t let me fry,
just let me die.

I am not sacred enough
to be sure
but neither am I evil enough.

I envy the world with no Hell,
for there is nothing that can be done
in a finite span of time
that warrants an eternity of fire.
A thousand lifetimes
a trillion, even
trillion times trillion
but never an eternity.

That’s their secret,
our fear held in an open palm,
for without it,
the bearers of the Cross have no dominion
over (me) the world.

It is the padlock on my chains.
It is my sentence.
It holds me fast,
stops the breath in my throat.

Tell me
which is the more loving of the two:
a world with no reward
or a world with no punishment?

Tell me
when did we stop concerning ourselves
with joy
self-control
respect
intelligence
faith
life
in favor of doing just enough –
just enough to escape Your wrath
while maligning those who chose
another route?

Tell me
when did our moral compass
reverse polarity;
when did we start awarding godhood
to the ones who deal hatred
like a deck of cards?

Tell me. I’m listening.

You asked for honesty and openness,
and I am the most honest I’ve ever been.
The cries of Your children are falling on deafness
on apathy!
Even worse
they fall on nothing at all.

I’m listening. In Jesus’ name I pray.

Perhaps things are
as Adams said –
perhaps God disappears
in a puff of logic.

I pray to You he is wrong.

But if they’re right
and irrationality reigns supreme,
I pray to You
that I’ve only ever been talking to myself.

Shame On You, James Rosen

This obituary of Kurt Vonnegut is as ill-informed and spiteful as anything else that’s come from FOX News — I really wish they’d just stick to distorting current events and stop short of impugning the work of one of America’s greatest literary minds. I had a hard time figuring out if this was meant to be an obituary or an op-ed piece. Take this particular gem, for example:

“Vonnegut, who failed at suicide 23 years ago, said 34 years ago that he hoped his children wouldn’t say of him when he was gone: he made wonderful jokes, but he was such an unhappy man. So I’ll say it for them.”

I’m sure his kids appreciated the initiative, as well as hearing their father referred to as “rich and irrelevant.” Don’t you go to hell for this stuff?

Art Is Dead. Vive L’Art.

I started to write a serious, politically themed blog (horror of horrors!) about the reasoning behind my being a dedicated non-voter (gasp of gasps!) and that it in fact has nothing to do with me being lazy, irresponsible, ignorant, and/or a hindrance to society, as non-voters all get lumped together as (not that those words don’t describe me, they just happen to have nothing to do with my decision to not vote). But I got distracted talking about art and artists and pretentious things — it’s a running theme with me — so I made a u-turn. Maybe you’ll get non-votership in a future blog. Maybe.
(Keep reading…)

Virtue

When I was in junior high, I tried to save my best friend’s soul by taking him to church. But it was mine that needed to be saved. And as for him? His cup as always been full.

I have learned that there is more to be accomplished in keeping my mouth shut, by living with dignity rather than showmanship. By finding the sacred in the mundane.

There is more to be found outside the sanctuary walls.

God is in open fifths. And oh, how I worship.

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