tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72648075749662944072012-02-01T07:16:31.645-08:00A Blog about God, the Earth, Inclusivity and Getting Where You Want to Go.Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.comBlogger1751100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-64131251369919215892010-09-26T13:56:00.000-07:002010-09-27T15:05:17.837-07:00

I am going to break one of my own cardinal rules and make a few unabashedly sweeping statements. But trying times are trying.Our nation has wandered into a very dark wood. We have succumbed to the panther of fraud, the lion of arrogance and aggression and the wolf of lust and consumption. Our news, once lively and informative, has descended into a morass of sheer pointlessness, carefully crafted

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-24197469398080964522010-09-25T15:05:00.000-07:002010-09-25T15:29:03.157-07:00

It's been over a year since I wrote anything here. Two summers ago, the last time that God's Sled Dog went exploring, it was to immerse myself in another way of being, in a culture much older, and in many ways, much wiser than my own. I went to Grayling, Alaska, for what might have been the finest experience in my life. The people there and I shared many common joys and struggles. I had hoped to

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-31982875641440003722009-10-04T07:15:00.000-07:002009-10-04T07:28:02.250-07:00

When Dante lost his way and descended into hell, he found himself face to face with all the human depravity that his cultivated and poetical nature had previously resisted. In this same way, when a civilization falls apart, it, too, will eventually find itself face to face with its own fractures and contradictions, with the things that, in its rise to greatness, it conveniently set aside or

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-38830889547688121372009-09-24T15:57:00.000-07:002009-09-24T16:05:36.080-07:00

Ok, so I did what I said I wasn’t going to do. I complained about the current state of our national health. It’s hard not to. Jungian psychiatrist James Hillman was heard to say at a recent Bioneeers’ Conference that “the Economy is the Moloch to which we sacrifice our children.” When we begin to devour our own people for the sake of financial gain, we are truly lost. Dante tells us that when we’

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-12942459184499054972009-09-22T15:06:00.001-07:002009-09-23T08:37:10.299-07:00

Hello, dear friends. Months have passed since my last post. I have been silent for a reason, resisting sharing my opinions of the health care debate – that we even need to debate this is a little odoriferous to me – we should have long ago joined the family of compassionate, civilized nations that offer either single payer or a hybrid public/nonprofit option. Illness should never be a weapon,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-89063935746783647542009-05-25T06:30:00.000-07:002009-05-25T06:31:38.921-07:00

Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one. We have come to the seventh Sunday after Easter, the Sunday after the Ascension. Jesus has been raised into heaven. Even though we’re still shouting alleluias, even though we’re still saying “Christ is risen!” it all takes on a different quality on the Sunday after the Ascension. For now it’s

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-23984961661265743862009-05-17T16:32:00.000-07:002009-05-17T16:54:18.801-07:00

"I do not judge anyone who hears my words and does not keep them, for I came not to judge the world, but to save the world." Jesus, John 12:47I recently received an interesting, albeit far too long, note from an anonymous reader. It detailed some of the ways in which we ordinary folk have been fooled by the economic shenanigans of the outrageously wealthy. It raised some important questions about

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-46032274634335173922009-05-16T07:20:00.000-07:002009-05-16T07:31:39.441-07:00

From Bill Moyers and Joseph Campbell, The Power of MythMOYERS: Why is a myth different than a dream?CAMPBELL: Oh because a dream is a personal experience of that deep, dark ground that is the support of our conscious lives, and a myth is the society’s dream. The myth is the public dream and the dream is the private myth. If your private myth, your dream, happens to coincide with that of the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-16326470680828971122009-05-07T13:03:00.000-07:002009-05-07T13:08:44.206-07:00

Ice jammed the Yukon River near Eagle yesterday, creating the biggest flood in Eagle's history. If you have read John McPhee's Coming into the Country or follow the Yukon Quest sled dog race, you will remember Eagle. Thanks to musher Andy Bassich for a magnificent rescue.With love from the Dog.

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-15179356969082065742009-05-07T13:01:00.000-07:002009-05-07T13:09:31.744-07:00

In his book A New Kind of Christian, emergent church guru Brian McLaren speaks of the structures of faith, or, how the Church has built and expressed herself through the ages. When Rome fell, that structure was monasticism. At the height of the Middle Ages, it was the Cathedral. As the Reformation exposed and lamented the abuses of the Church, systematic theology became the architecture of God’s

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-48243545579446615342009-05-01T15:41:00.001-07:002009-05-07T12:51:22.290-07:00

At the same time I was reading Jon Gertner’s article in the New York Times Magazine, I came across a video on the Times’ website. It previewed what the new green economy might look like. It featured freeways, cities, and a construction site, but nothing I would call green: no trees, fields or mountains. It leads me to conclude that when New Yorkers think green, they do not think nature. This is

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-53409445533639365102009-04-29T07:46:00.000-07:002009-04-29T07:50:17.452-07:00

You may have read the article with the long title in a recent Sunday New York Times Magazine. Here goes: “Why Isn’t the Brain Green? Decision scientists are trying to figure out why it’s so hard for us to get into a green mind-set. Their answers may be more crucial than any technological advance in combating environmental challenges.” (April 19, 2009)And so we meet the Center for Research on

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-20325708822274076472009-04-26T08:11:00.000-07:002009-04-26T16:32:54.023-07:00

The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me. I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!" (John 16:32-33)A man approaches the Teacher. “Teacher,” says he, “I have left home many

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-72877359486608456602009-04-17T07:53:00.000-07:002009-04-17T11:33:36.500-07:00

As a school chaplain, I spend a lot of time planning and writing curricula. In this work, I have been much inspired by Parker Palmer. Palmer envisions education as a circle of learners gathered around a Great Thing, a truth. In this model, the teacher directs the conversation, but does not necessarily initiate it. The initiator is the truth that sits at the center of the circle. In this way,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-44704497393182957612009-04-16T11:57:00.000-07:002009-04-16T19:09:22.483-07:00

To begin, some quotes:What we call the beginning is often the endAnd to make and end is to make a beginning.The end is where we start from.T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding, VIn the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-76403693359725584492009-04-13T18:35:00.000-07:002009-04-14T08:01:54.388-07:00

At the candlelit beginning of the Easter Vigil, the Exultat sings:Rejoice and sing now, all the round earth,bright with a glorious splendor,for darkness has been vanquished by our eternal King.What do we mean by these things? What is light? What is darkness? Is the darkness vanquished by Easter the simple shroud of the night or is it something more sinister, an evil hidden in the recesses of the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-64470933506670166162009-04-12T15:11:00.000-07:002009-04-12T15:19:44.242-07:00

God walks among the dead on Holy Saturday, resting from Creation, touching those who also rest, kissing their cheeks gently, inviting us to leave our regrets behind and begin our walk back toward the light. As John Chrysostom says, “On Easter, all are forgiven.”There are not many people who have walked among the dead and lived to tell the tale. Myth gives us a few names: Coyote, Savitri, Inanna,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-60289766857065046062009-04-10T17:04:00.000-07:002009-04-10T17:14:44.213-07:00

Good Friday is the enactment of a choice that forever shattered the world. For better or worse the world has never recovered from it. I suspect that because of the darkness of it all, it is very hard to see through it to the light.Jesus lived and breathed for a single purpose. Jesus came to show us what it means to be human. Jesus lived a most powerful and complete human life. Everyone, Christian

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-7294375142812410712009-04-09T11:32:00.000-07:002009-04-09T11:46:23.069-07:00

Every year on Maundy Thursday, my husband asks me how the disciples could have all fallen asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane. "How could they pass out on the one occasion when it was so important to stay awake?" I cannot speak for them, but do, on this holy day, share some thoughts about sleeping and remaining awake.The Night Sea Journey describes the nocturnal passage taken by the Egyptian sun

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-79557660480157721192009-04-07T10:57:00.000-07:002009-04-10T17:18:22.909-07:00

I’ve been silent for quite some while, hibernating in the northern winter of my heart, an inner landscape muffled and transformed under the cover of snow and traversed by the curtain of the northern lights. Since my physical body lives in the Bay Area where it does not snow, I can only do this work imaginatively. Perhaps it is this imbalance, the lack of winter in waking life, that has given me

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-90255552614887914112009-01-10T06:51:00.000-08:002009-01-10T06:53:20.238-08:00

It is done. The twinkling lights that guided us through December have breathed their last. The night grows dark. Cold closes in. Some of us are relieved to slip back into the routines of ordinary life. Some of us are wistful at the festive time’s passage. Some are still coping with what changed forever over the holidays. Wherever your heart may be, look back for just a moment, and hold the season

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-44345903976770832982009-01-06T07:52:00.000-08:002009-01-06T07:57:49.500-08:00

As the little pic on the right attests, I got hooked by Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series over Christmas. On the one hand, it was bound to happen as I am chaplain to a school full of her readers, but on the other, not all fantasy series touch my heart in quite this way. The teaser: Edward and his family are not what they seem. As one who cruises the spirit world, I've met many a vampire and I

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-52272675892536387422008-12-17T19:00:00.000-08:002008-12-17T19:05:49.291-08:00

Last night in our reflection group, we pondered the words “good” and “faithful.” When viewed in the lexicon of religion, there doesn’t seem to be much difference. Does not a good spiritual practice entail being good? Does not faith deepen as one gets better?The answer, I suppose, would surely be “yes,” if the practice of faith were entirely up to me. Consider the Biblical story of Jacob, upon

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-84194809009185342602008-12-15T05:34:00.000-08:002008-12-15T15:54:30.342-08:00

I spent this weekend with my teacher and fourteen others in a master dream class focused upon Jungian theory. We spent a lot of time pondering the path to becoming fully human. I was reminded once again that true spiritual work is always done with others. A religious solitary can only be a solitary when the connection with others is so deep that others no longer need be physically present. For

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-49150199770633960732008-12-13T07:54:00.000-08:002008-12-15T05:34:16.060-08:00

In a famous and oft reprinted essay, local columnist Jon Carroll laments that at Christmas “we are required to deal with the divinity of Christ.” I am not sure exactly what he means about being required to deal with divinity in a culture where only 8% of the population goes to church, but if using the phrase “divinity of Christ” is a cipher for other difficult issues that arise at this time of

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-67803340762682284852008-12-10T10:57:00.000-08:002008-12-11T11:01:44.424-08:00

Winter is the season of the old. The earth is spent and must rest. Darkness covers the land and people turn inward, toward the darkness of the soul. Things that can be ignored or kept at bay during the summer surface now that there is no sunlight to cover them. Northern people say that winter is a bad tempered being. Restless spirits come down, and children are warned not to go out alone. Rain,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-75517258478953992392008-12-09T05:27:00.000-08:002008-12-09T06:01:43.457-08:00

As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. What then did you go out to see?"What does it mean to repent?John used the figure of drowning. Water is a great leveler. It can ruin my

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-13746203398240987502008-12-08T05:48:00.000-08:002008-12-09T05:27:20.637-08:00

Several years ago, a friend suffered a heart attack. On hearing the news, the eyes of one my close acquaintance's eyes lit up wickedly. "Hmm," she said, and not a little officiously, "looks like some lifestyle changes for him!"I have always found lifestyle a particularly troubling concept. Style is something I choose. It's been about surface image since its inception to cover the body's nakedness

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-25694954813012537172008-12-07T15:13:00.000-08:002008-12-08T05:49:45.428-08:00

The second and third Sundays of Advent belong to John the Baptist. Born at midsummer when the light overwhelms the darkness, John emerges full grown in winter's uttermost obscurity, waving the sparks of summer right before our eyes. The light is not lost! says John. It is coming! John, like the aurora, arrives to illuminate our way when in winter's gloom, we have lost it. He steps out of the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-60673916444573685812008-12-06T07:15:00.000-08:002008-12-06T07:17:41.374-08:00

The feast of St. Nicholas is about things that happen in the dark.Nicholas lived in the city of Myra in what is today Turkey during the 4th century. It is said he was orphaned as a boy and left with a large fortune. Raised by an uncle who was a priest and blessed by a generous nature, Nicholas came to view his wealth not as an asset to be hoarded and multiplied, but as a gift to be given. Many

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-30892527428066359232008-12-05T06:08:00.000-08:002008-12-05T06:18:43.512-08:00

If you wait, God will manifest Himself.—Thomas KeatingCistercian priest and monk (Explorefaith Advent Calendar)If you have ever taught school, you know what happens to children in December. People blame it on the commercial frenzy of Christmas, but I think December's wildness would be there even if not a single gift were exchanged. There’s something entirely too magical about an approaching

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-46718169171257204782008-12-04T07:52:00.000-08:002008-12-04T07:53:45.074-08:00

Isaiah is the book most read during Advent. It is a scripture Jesus loved and often quoted. Perhaps more fully than any of the prophets, Isaiah imagines the Kingdom of God; what it would look like, how we would live in it, what to look for.As anyone who has studied the Bible knows, Isaiah is one prophet in three persons. The first Isaiah wrote before the Babylonian Exile, the second Isaiah wrote

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-85854037883014723242008-12-03T10:01:00.000-08:002008-12-03T10:02:47.723-08:00

Christian practice can be summed up by the word patience. In the New Testament patience means waiting for God for any length of time, not going away, and not giving in to boredom or discouragement.—Thomas KeatingCistercian priest and monk (from explorefaith.org Advent Calendar0Patience is not an exclusively Christian practice. Waiting, terrible waiting, is true in the Old Testament as well. It is

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-61823603362830852902008-12-02T09:39:00.000-08:002008-12-02T09:43:24.689-08:00

Western culture is founded upon a principle of separation. In order for me to understand the nature of reality, I must separate myself from it and become its observer, leaving behind any personal baggage that might cloud the view. What is the world made of? asked Thales. Clearly the fact that the Hebrew Scriptures can be traced to four different sources rules out any divine inspiration, wrote the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-79977755221434433012008-12-01T08:56:00.000-08:002008-12-01T08:59:16.792-08:00

Advent always begins in absence. That discontent most of us feel at the beginning of the Holiday Season is not just what belief.net calls “The December Dilemma.” It is real discontent. In December, I always hit a wall. To be enveloped in the expectation of joy is to come face to face with all that is not joy. To be confronted with commercial images of abundance is, quite naturally, to feel my own

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-1583573503767225142008-11-30T16:55:00.000-08:002008-11-30T16:56:20.476-08:00

“Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man, setting out on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge.”“Restore us, O Lord of hosts,Show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”O come, O come, Emmanuel.It is Advent. It is dark and I cannot see. Something’s coming. Let the Adventure begin.One of the most enigmatic ideas in

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-41772772389125623832008-11-23T14:22:00.000-08:002008-11-23T14:39:17.436-08:00

As November mists wrap the land in mystery; as Matminni (the Falling Leaf Season) gives way to Kumminni (the Rain Season), God's Sled Dog sniffs the air for homefires. For the time has come to set our sites toward home and to wait for the Christ Child to be born.Advent circles through time and space and reminds us in very deep ways of what it means to be human. Join us next Sunday for Week One:

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-515725370380838922008-10-16T15:42:00.000-07:002008-10-16T15:54:35.979-07:00

A recent newspaper poll asked its readers the following: What is more important: saving the economy or global warming? One could answer in three ways. a) Global warming was more important; b) the economy was more important; or c) no need to choose – we could save both economy and earth. I do not know how you would answer this question, but the readers voted 65% for the economy, 23% for both, and

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-7505767578334219582008-09-28T17:20:00.000-07:002008-09-28T17:23:55.470-07:00

Note to my friends: The sermon I preached this Sunday represents yet another attempt to explain the life-changing conversion that happened to me in Alaska. After I preached it, I could almost feel two of my Alaska friends sitting on either side of me saying, "You know, Carol, you've idealized us again. We're really not that hot." I almost burst out laughing as I apologized, once again, for my

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-15910736242176135022008-09-23T12:25:00.000-07:002008-09-23T12:43:24.839-07:00

Warning: The dog's in her street corner prophet mode here. Strong opinions below.To my mind, one of the most offensive propaganda images promulgated during the Reagan years was the "welfare queen." This mythical being, footloose, fancy free and living high off the hog, was often spotted being "driven downtown in her Cadillac" to receive the "taxpayers' hard earned money." This high living sponge

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-22283169668871195252008-09-19T13:22:00.000-07:002008-09-19T13:47:23.605-07:00

Many years ago, I had an unforgettable encounter with that most famous popularizer of comparative mythology, Joseph Campbell. Campbell was lecturing a group of educators about how to integrate mythology into their curricula. He concluded with an old Hindu fable about a baby tiger raised by goats. As a “goat,” the cub learned to bleat and eat grass. Although he did both well and dutifully,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-31880742813252408792008-09-15T12:56:00.001-07:002008-09-15T13:13:08.274-07:00

These are serious times. As one whose second home is Alaska, I cannot remain silent while a former cheerleader cheers the pollution of life giving rivers and the slaughter of God's creatures. I'm a feminist dog, but Sarah's not a feminist. She's just a bone of contention, sent our way to distract us from the real work of making our nation great again.Barak means "Blessed," you know.So every time,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-70938257109953832252008-08-17T19:52:00.000-07:002008-08-17T20:02:27.602-07:00

Note: This is the final essay I wrote in Alaska. I'm home now, and missing where I was very much.Certain cosmic theologians and philosophers, Teilhard de Chardin, Thomas Berry, Brian Swimme and others, say that to be in the image of God is to live in a universe that we don’t just look at, but which can look back at us.I am now near the end of my time in Grayling and the Lower Yukon. On Monday, I’

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-51836700715863169312008-08-10T18:48:00.000-07:002008-08-10T18:50:04.450-07:00

I'm packing up now and turning my sights toward home. Thanks to all of you who have shared this time in Alaska with me. I'll be posting a wrap up later this week.Blessings.

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-41845511168491875152008-08-09T23:31:00.000-07:002008-08-12T13:57:35.056-07:00

The temperature hit 80 degrees Friday under perfect blue skies. Today was hot again, but the clouds gathered, and as I write, rain is falling, settling all the dust a dry week has stirred. I began Friday morning with more berry picking.Sandy and I hit the woods in the company of her sister’s honest to god hunting Chihuahua, a fearless little tawny thing named Missy, who leaps over holes and

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-11615932481769532872008-08-07T23:01:00.000-07:002008-08-12T13:58:56.434-07:00

Abby wanted to take me all the way to the end of town, so I appeared at her door at 9 a.m. this morning and she, the puppy Princess and I set off at a brisk clip into the woods. I have learned to read the side of the road for signs of bears. A crushed patch of grass usually means a resting spot, and of course there are the tracks themselves. The beach is covered with them. This morning, no one

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-21081756854108367092008-08-06T23:58:00.000-07:002008-08-07T00:04:31.380-07:00

This morning, the youth workers cleaned up all the weeds around the church. Here's a picture of the results. It will make our last Sunday together more gracious. Otherwise, I have little to report today except for a passing morning shower, an overcast sky and many flights of chickadees. All is well.

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-78871869953810868092008-08-05T22:53:00.000-07:002008-08-05T22:59:46.946-07:00

This morning, as I was writing a letter home, word came over the radio that a loose boat was floating down the Yukon. Almost at once, the energy around me shifted as people rose to the occasion and decided who was going to do the rescue operation. Rising water has caused all number of inconveniences to both the beach and the boats moored on it. About a half an hour later, as I was on my morning

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-29020628649307963682008-08-05T00:05:00.001-07:002008-08-12T14:00:04.085-07:00

As I continue in the work of reflecting on the gifts of Graying, here are some more pictures of our changing light and the events of my day.The morning began under low, brooding skiesOn my morning walk, I stop and visit. Here is one of my good friends.Here I am, showing Abby how to make God's EyesLocal ColorBy evening, the sun was shining. Here are two men casting nets for salmon in a flat bottom

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-45664216311154577132008-08-04T00:37:00.000-07:002008-08-04T00:45:44.293-07:00

I walked atop a beaver dam today and ate barbecued moose -- it is every bit as good as people say. We had services in the old church by candlelight and once again, I experienced the power of the Book of Common Prayer. It is August. People are beginning to leave the village for the cities. The swallows are all gone. The teachers are returning. Soon, I, too, will be on my way back to California. I

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-29679808925112798562008-08-03T00:33:00.000-07:002008-08-12T14:01:28.936-07:00

“Writing any story set in Alaska is hard, because Alaska is always a character. Even if the story is about something else, Alaska is still a character.” –from tonight’s conversation over dinner.Berry picking is one of the premier delights of an Alaska summer. High bush cranberries, blueberries, salmon berries, raspberries, red currants and black currants are all to be found, if you know where to

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-82762677867340844282008-08-02T00:01:00.000-07:002008-08-13T11:33:29.865-07:00

Grayling Native StoreFriday, August 1A fresh shipment arrived at the Grayling Native Store this morning and everyone who was available was put to work opening boxes. This store carries about anything you might need, as well as a few surprises. Who would have ever thought that I’d find an ample supply of my very favorite Safeway Clear Soda in the middle of the Alaska bush? But I did, and as I

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-81700906762309716532008-08-01T00:06:00.000-07:002008-08-01T00:17:56.806-07:00

A good and ordinary day. Did laundry. Wrote letters to my friends without computers. Spent lots of time with the kids and visiting elders. Met the returning math teacher. Made traditional grass dolls for the children, gathered wild mint and sang songs on our evening walk. I'm moving from reporting to reflecting, so God's sled dog may be a bit more prayerful and a bit less chatty in days ahead.

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-550396258759340322008-07-30T23:41:00.000-07:002008-08-12T14:03:26.835-07:00

Yesterday, I was back on the river, this time to the other village the diocese asked me to visit. Shageluk is about 10 miles east of Anvik, which means that in air miles it is not far away at all, but it was not just I who wanted to go. Laura Chapman Rico and Chris Cochren, my friends from Anvik, were eager to get to Shageluk before heading home, and so once again, T. offered his boat. We six

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-29156168257482687342008-07-30T15:21:00.000-07:002008-08-13T11:21:44.003-07:00

Sorry, folks, no blog today. The Rev was able to catch a slow boat to Shageluk, and will be returning to Grayling this afternoon or evening. Shageluk is only about 32 miles from Grayling as the crow flies, but the crow doesn't control how the river flows. It flows up, down, and sideways, and it's four hours by boat each way. The old iMac was not up to a river voyage, what with its keys falling

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-8287442555464345072008-07-28T23:28:00.000-07:002008-08-13T18:36:53.117-07:00

Anvik lies 18 air miles downriver from Grayling at the confluence of the Anvik and Yukon Rivers. Christ Church is the oldest Episcopal Church building in the State of Alaska. It was built in 1894. Embedded in the stairs to the altar is a brick from Jamestown, Virginia, the oldest Anglican settlement in North America. The Rev. John Wight Chapman served as mission priest with his wife May Seely

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-9167153902050766292008-07-26T17:43:00.000-07:002008-07-26T21:38:24.633-07:00

Jay wanted portraits of the town puppies. I present to you Dallas and Princess.Mostly, however, I'm using this day to pray, to ponder the mysteries of life, to find words to speak a truth that sits at the tip of my tongue, but remains teasingly beyond my grasp. Jesus may have said "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven," but do the poor in spirit know this as

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-69437808227648953802008-07-26T00:49:00.000-07:002008-08-13T18:37:49.870-07:00

“And when we had fallen into sinand become subject to evil and death,you, in your mercy sent Jesus Christ,to share our human nature,to live and die as one of us.”I have felt those words go under my skin this past week. Redeemer was right. The only thing you need to teach is the Love of God. Walk in love. Love what is human. See us for who we are. High clouds returned this morning. At 10:00 the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-22432084654769467432008-07-24T23:49:00.000-07:002008-08-13T11:09:47.524-07:00

H. gave me another story. He told this one to all his kids. It is winter. A mouse asks her child to help with the work. The mouse child says he doesn’t want to. He runs off to play. He slides down a hill and loses his arm. He slides down again and loses his other arm. He keeps sliding and loses first one leg and then the other. Finally he loses his head. Sit awhile with this story. H., who has

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-68114611929093202822008-07-23T21:57:00.000-07:002008-08-12T13:38:14.071-07:00

“If you kill a spider, it will rain,” said Ashley at lunch, after she had merrily whacked one with her cup. Her little sister is afraid of spiders, which shows that even if you live amidst the splendors of nature, you don’t have to like all the wildlife. Bears are still around and I might have heard a wolf this morning, but it might have been the boys. The girls told me about another really

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-40661032784979421222008-07-22T23:32:00.000-07:002008-07-22T23:47:31.482-07:00

Temperature went down to 30 this morning. Fortunately, by the time I was out and about, the frost had given way to warmth. It did not, however, kill the mosquitoes who were seeking revenge for the weather. Cleared brush around the church. Heard an amazing life story from a beautiful old woman with two dogs, one of whom, "Misty" looked like a short coated version of Chinook. (For those of you

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-60261313328962993802008-07-21T22:54:00.000-07:002008-08-13T13:16:08.880-07:00

Here’s a picture of me and one of the chldren, lest you think I am making this up.Haunted houses are quite the conversation piece. Having myself seen ghosts in Alaska, I’m hardly surprised, but of course some haunts are better than others. The red and yellow house is one of the better ones. I heard its story from three different kids. There was a pair of shoes that walked downstairs by themselves

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-29774926293723093152008-07-21T07:16:00.000-07:002008-07-21T07:24:18.075-07:00

"You did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear," writes St. Paul in the Epistle appointed for Sunday (which we ended up not reading in church), "but you have received a spirit of adoption." I continue to ponder what this means in my journey of adoption into a native village in the far north. Didn't help that it rained all day. Fewer mosquitoes, but also fewer people out and

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-23344072657745937092008-07-19T22:40:00.000-07:002008-08-12T18:33:34.318-07:00

Back in the distant time, Raven had to go away. So he told all the animals what to do in his absence. When he returned, he found that Rabbit hadn’t done a thing. Turned out Rabbit couldn’t hear. So Raven gave Rabbit the great big ears that he wears to this day.I have been trying to grow my ears today and learn more about the people with whom I am living. Had coffee with Susan in the morning and a

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-52986832342327901312008-07-18T22:19:00.000-07:002008-08-12T13:55:25.717-07:00

Note: Due to technical limitations (my husband's uploading the pix from San Anselmo), pictures will be posted after the daily blog goes up. Check back.My Grayling winter wallpaper (posted on an earlier blog) has been a hit here. I'm not the only one who enjoys it when the Iditarod runs through. Have begun meeting people. Names, faces. In the morning I took a solitary walk, but by early afternoon

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-83391414675849085872008-07-17T21:52:00.000-07:002008-08-12T18:34:01.758-07:00

Everyone in this part of the Interior has heard that California is burning up. The subject came up at the airport in Aniak, where I picked up my connecting flight to Grayling. I was amazed that our news could travel this far out. Later, when I checked in at the Grayling tribal office, I learned that the reason everyone knew about the fires was that people from this village have been sent to

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-44000666261142346312008-07-15T18:24:00.000-07:002008-07-18T17:16:07.319-07:00

Later, when I can find the words, I will tell you about what may be the most beautiful four and a half hours I have ever spent in the air. For now, just some pictures: the eastern horizon at about 9:45 at night as we flew over where the cruise ships go; Canada at 10:30 p.m.; the peaks and glaciers we crossed over on our descent to Anchorage. Coming into to Anchorage still feels like coming back

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-35866355742668041192008-07-10T09:19:00.000-07:002008-07-18T17:25:42.154-07:00

The town of Grayling, Alaska lies about 300 miles northwest of Anchorage on the west bank of the Yukon River as it curves down toward the sea at Bethel. On the east is the Innoko National Wildlife Refuge, home to 130 species of migratory waterfowl over its 3,850,000 acres. Grayling lies in the Yukon-Koyukuk Borough, a large swath of the interior that stretches from Grayling in the west, all the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-78308288316706311762008-05-19T13:02:00.000-07:002008-05-19T13:04:56.894-07:00

I had an experience of the Trinity as I preached this, so it at least meant something to me.On the other hand, no one saw that the candles were not lit. Inner light or air head? You decide. If you read my last post, you'll see the questions repeated, but in a new context.Separate and the SameThe doctrine of the Trinity is perhaps the defining moment of our faith. It is the only teaching which has

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-76545670022986667382008-05-03T17:08:00.000-07:002008-05-03T17:51:12.170-07:00

In the 6th century BCE, somewhere in the center of what has come to be called the axial age, East and West asked their foundational questions. These questions are very important because they helped to shape the world views that we live with today, and without an understanding of world view, we have no way of discerning the underlying assumptions that define our construction of the truth.The first

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-22480715435362737102008-03-10T20:34:00.000-07:002008-03-15T08:00:27.374-07:00

“The world must be in balance, Ged. Every act has its consequence. Even to light a tiny match is to cast a shadow.” -Ursula LeGuin, A Wizard of Earthsea“It is a very sick animal that is reduced to fouling its own nest.” – Bioloogical sayingWhen I was about twelve years old, my father discovered psychology. From that moment on, everything any of us said and did was subject to paternal review and

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-40741566906343310542008-03-05T12:58:00.001-08:002008-03-09T20:55:10.452-07:00

I am amused at myself for writing “it’s not the suffering itself that matters, but what you do with it.” It’s a very “take charge” phrase. I am guilty of wanting to organize things, of liking, like most Americans, to feel in control of my destiny. I have spent all of my life in a quest for personal freedom and I don’t like being bossed around. It makes me wonder if suffering is that kind of thing

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-78725513948278891502008-03-05T12:54:00.000-08:002008-03-05T12:55:00.519-08:00

Since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. . . and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-74599589509680094012008-02-25T06:13:00.000-08:002008-02-25T06:20:57.491-08:00

The people quarreled with Moses, and said, "Give us water to drink." Moses said to them, "Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?" But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, "Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?" So Moses cried out to the Lord, "What shall I do with this people?”What

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-50948361309534090652008-02-17T07:24:00.000-08:002008-02-17T07:24:05.600-08:00

With that, we come to what is, for me, the most troubling and therefore most interesting part of Failure of Nerve. As an example of one whose nerve did not fail, Friedman chooses Christopher Columbus. His argument, if I follow it correctly, is this. The Europe of the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance was a deeply regressive culture. Lacking health and growth, the Church was devouring

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-20597634478305665172008-02-14T12:18:00.000-08:002008-02-14T12:30:53.477-08:00

“It’s too facile,” said my husband after I had treated him to my theory of Western Civilization as an extended essay in adolescence. “You are entirely correct.” I answered after a pause to think. “But – perhaps I am being facile for a reason. Isn’t facile what the adolescent mind is all about? Remember the sweeping theories you had at eighteen?”Among my circle of friends and in my diocese at

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-73578468161649412632008-02-12T12:36:00.000-08:002008-02-12T12:45:41.444-08:00

“In everyday speech the word ‘myth’ is taken to mean an untrue historical story, whereas its real meaning is a true non-historical story.” Life Conquers Death, p. 17For all its evocations of the modern world and the lessons of history, for all the concreteness of its writing, John Arnold’s Lent Book is really a sacred story, a myth disguised as an essay. The Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung believed

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-36882831569623738662008-02-07T20:27:00.000-08:002008-02-07T20:28:06.070-08:00

It’s my own fault for invoking the phrase “One Nation Under God.” Of course I intended it as a sly suggestion that I was and am more like the “Evil Empire” than I have ever cared to admit. But no phrase ever means what I want it to mean and there’s a whiff of theocracy in “One Nation Under God.” Few words strike more knee-jerk into my liberal friends than “theocracy.” Liberalism sees the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-77952866214275574032008-02-06T09:03:00.000-08:002008-02-06T09:07:44.901-08:00

Every year, the Archbishop of Canterbury commissions a Lent Book. I have been reading these books as my Lenten study for a number of years now. I have always found them to be thought provoking, engaging as they do in a variety of ways, the implications of a life of faith fully lived. To put it in more down home terms, the books explore what it means to the whole of Creation that I have chosen to

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-52718248474317198152008-02-05T10:53:00.000-08:002008-02-05T13:27:51.705-08:00

The Last Epiphany is always about Transfiguration. The Church will not let us enter Lent without first seeing Jesus in all his glory, if we can in fact see and understand glory. As Peter suggests in the tale, understanding the truth of glory is easier said than done. So every year I ponder glory and I ponder Lent, but I never know if I get it right, or if, like Peter, I am building my own booth

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-81803408988777837492008-02-04T09:10:00.000-08:002008-02-04T09:39:11.888-08:00

During Advent, a dear friend set me the task of learning to love my body. I was not to do this as a matter of physical fitness, or of staying “young,” both of which I could easily resist. I was given the task of loving my body as a spiritual practice. I was to pray the body with the goal of finding unity where the early Christians had perceived a split. I was to try and transcend the categories

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-19911058578124435362008-02-02T18:39:00.000-08:002008-02-03T18:40:59.462-08:00

In 1925, the Austro-German poet Rilke wrote a perfectly cryptic letter to the Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva. It was a bad time for poets. World War I had scarred Rilke’s soul and the Revolution had scarred Tsvetaeva’s. Beauty itself seemed to lie in the ashes of progress, machines, diesel, the lock step rhythms of an age ruled neither by God nor man, but technology. Rilke lived in Muzot,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-71892999366310219412008-01-29T11:18:00.000-08:002008-02-03T18:41:35.768-08:00

A friend of mine shared with me a story about the Twenty Third Psalm. Having been raised in a traditional church, she was accustomed to hear the psalm read at funerals, a time when "the valley of the shadow of death” is literally present. Then a Jewish friend said that the King James Bible got it all wrong, I mean, WAY all wrong. This was not a poem about death, it was a poem about fun! The

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-26883390227919078862008-01-18T13:52:00.000-08:002008-01-18T14:42:44.781-08:00

We think of Eastern religion as more otherworldly than our own – thin yogis stretched into pretzel like contemplation, as the poor swirl around in the endless oppression of the karmic wheel. But that may only be because we don't know how to approach it. In a scene from the HBO series, “Rome,” one of its main characters, the centurion Lucius Vorenus, is sent to handle a trader from India who may

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-81783927652091998952008-01-10T13:32:00.000-08:002008-01-14T14:29:54.786-08:00

According to the spiritual laws of the East, heavenly virtue was reflected in royal birth. Aod was expected to incarnate as a prince. That is because in the East, great people don't come out of nowhere. They are reborn numberless times. They learn over millions of years. Thus royal birth is earned. It is not as one Microsoft executive called it, "winning the sperm lottery." I can imagine then the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-61459150320138968332008-01-09T11:47:00.000-08:002008-01-10T13:36:10.358-08:00

You may ask why a series of reflections on “What the Body Knows” would begin with wise men arriving at the court of Herod in Jerusalem. This is the body politic, of course, and it has a great deal to do with every other body, especially in the West, where power is more important than any other thing, where power is the prize of conflict, wrested from the hands of others. Whether by intrigue,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-24763408277373012522008-01-07T11:47:00.000-08:002008-01-07T12:04:27.966-08:00

Happy New Year! We have come to the Season of Epiphany, the wise ones from the East coming to pay homage to the divine child. The sun, too, has turned and begins its journey from the south, lighting up the Eastern skies. This morning, however, was wet with mists rising from the rain soaked earth. With my car in the body shop, I drove to the ferry at 6:15 a.m. in an ancient vehicle with no heat or

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-5820516026254776912007-12-24T07:07:00.000-08:002007-12-24T07:13:10.020-08:00

Apologies may be in order here, my friends. We have reached Christmas Eve and the conversation I had hoped to be having with you about earth and soul, body and God remains unfinished. But perhaps that is as God wishes. Christmas is not finished. It is a beginning. The body and society, as a good friend said, is a large issue that has different meanings at different times. So does our perception

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-52259051367964449552007-12-19T11:44:00.000-08:002007-12-19T11:46:24.462-08:00

At our Tuesday theology group, one of us asked, “Why were the early Christians so hard on their bodies? It feels somehow off to me. I’m glad we don’t have that problem anymore.”“I wonder,” I answered, perhaps too quickly. “When I look around me, I see a culture that’s hard on our bodies, too. It’s just different. The modeling industry. The American health care establishment. The international

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-47730316255233660062007-12-17T06:17:00.000-08:002007-12-17T06:29:49.198-08:00

Recently, the papers reported that a patient was allowed to bleed to death in an American inner city emergency room because no one would take responsibility for her care. It made me wonder about things, about a world where health care has become an industry and not a ministry. The woman died of a perforated bowel. She had an Hispanic surname. We live in a culture that, for all the lip service

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-2920611554596354912007-12-16T08:45:00.000-08:002007-12-16T08:51:44.705-08:00

“Is this the one, or are we to wait for another?”A great deal has happened since we encountered John in the wilderness last Sunday. The bulldozers have come in and razed the place and the wild man now lives behind bars, domesticated and vulnerable to the whims of whomever. John’s call to repent went too far. He was too much himself, perceived as too threatening to a society whose "peace" depended

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-72497342285929407472007-12-15T06:23:00.000-08:002007-12-15T06:40:16.877-08:00

“Every generation loses the Messiah they did not deserve.” Michael Chabon, The Yiddish Policemen’s UnionAnother of the texts we read during Advent (this year in the Daily Office) is the Book of the Revelation of John. Revelation is one of the better dream texts in literature. Like all good dream texts, it’s not an easy read. It tests Jeremy Taylor’s first rule of dreamwork: “All dreams speak a

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-91719472141962447512007-12-13T13:53:00.000-08:002007-12-13T13:54:19.356-08:00

John the Baptist comes out of the wilderness, clad in skins, like an Israelite fresh from the desert, or a being newly arrived out of Eden. He is pre-agricultural. His message is that we took a wrong turn somewhere back around the invention of agriculture, when we built cities, armies and forced slaves to do our work. His message is that God’s power is not about empire and structure and the

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-37699356467359290512007-12-12T19:38:00.001-08:002007-12-12T19:39:18.901-08:00

When something gets this strange at the edges, it’s a good sign that we stand at the threshold of change. Thresholds, like Advent, are strange, standing before one, but not crossed, something that has not happened yet. Thresholds have guardians. The guardian at the threshold always demands something before he or she lets us pass. Gatekeepers are as enigmatic as the gates they guard: the sphinx

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-1006956128427773122007-12-11T11:38:00.000-08:002007-12-11T11:44:27.729-08:00

Into this strange and often terrible season, on its second Sunday to be precise, walks John the Baptist. John the Baptist is as strange as anything that Advent can throw in our direction. Indeed, he may be one of the most misunderstood characters in our whole sacred story. He’s a man from another age -- and he was from another age when he first appeared 2,000 years ago -- wild and hairy, who

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-83547076084710947302007-12-10T11:26:00.000-08:002007-12-10T11:30:25.391-08:00

Note: The postings for Monday - Wednesday are taken from a sermon I preached on December 9, 2007, at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Oakland.Around them boomed the rhetoric of time,The smells and furniture of the known worldWhere conscience worshiped an aesthetic orderWhile in the center of its vast self-love,Sat Caesar with his pleasures, dreading death. -W.H. Auden, “Kairos and Logos”More than

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-70037822705245821562007-12-08T14:51:00.000-08:002007-12-08T14:59:12.071-08:00

From 2001-2003 I attended Buddhist teachings on Tuesday nights. I liked them very much, but after a long day’s work across the bay, I was often very tired by the time I got there. Usually, the Jasmine tea and cookies that were offered revived me, but one night, I was so gone that even that did not work. We did not have our usual teacher, but a very brilliant nun whose soft spoken teaching

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-46910176398223317362007-12-05T09:33:00.000-08:002007-12-05T09:43:05.639-08:00

You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. (Romans 11:13)It’s an almost disturbing thing, notes my protesting voice, that religious sages spend so much of their time informing me that I’m asleep. In one way or other they all teach that the basic rule of the spiritual life is neither prayer nor worship nor service to others but simply being alert to what is,

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-46121881598841844052007-12-04T08:45:00.000-08:002007-12-04T09:00:56.931-08:00

Among the Orthodox, Mary Theotokos the God bearer is the first to understand that the time is now. Hers are the first ears that hear the divine messenger, whispering that the way out of madness is at hand, in her hands, to be precise. Mary is in every way a threshold guardian, a liminal being. She is the gateway between human and divine, heaven and earth. One of her attributes is the Blue Door.

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264807574966294407.post-13848063128222651782007-12-03T06:13:00.000-08:002007-12-03T06:16:16.760-08:00

Therefore, Advent is not tragedy. Like Buddhism, Advent does not raise its fist against the abyss, but sees fulfillment in emptiness. The encroaching darkness turns out be a virgin’s womb. Among the Western Churches, Advent begins the Church Year. Advent is not a natural beginning like a birthday. There is no occasion to mark the coming of Advent. No solstice, equinox, birth, event or death marks

Rev. Carolhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04270480327205803763noreply@blogger.com0