Mary's Song

Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest …
you who have had so far to come.)
Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.
His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world. Charmed by doves' voices,
the whisper of straw, he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed who overflowed all skies,
all years. Older than eternity, now he
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught
that I might be free, blind in my womb
to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.

Luci Shaw

There is no chance that snow will fall on San Diego for Christmas. My three year old is already getting into her annual Grandparent's house, Christmas time brats. Indeed, there aren't enough Christmas carols, rolls of wrapping paper, or servings of honey-baked ham to make me feel very Christmasy. For the first time in my whole life I am sick of the commercialization of Christmas--even if this does make me sound like a Charlie Brown Christmas rerun. The low point was time spent at the Christian books store looking for gag gifts. There they are diligently putting Christ back into Christmas--"Jesus is the Reason for the Season"--and in case you might forget, you can get it emblazoned on a teashirt, coffee-mug, note-cards, bookmarks, Christmas card, magnet, garden banner, poster, socks, flip-flops, key-ring, or cash box. Infant Holy, Infant Lowly.

No shepherds on the hills they say in the winter in Palestine? So perhaps the snow is not necessary.

And Johanna has now settled down for a long winters nap after screaming for two hours ...perhaps sugar plums dance in her head...

But, this other problem that I am dealing with. This problem of the West and it's wealth is harder to just think myself out of. What does it mean to confront the poor baby Jesus as rich young rulers. The manger that calls judgment down on my opulence.... Are all these royal velvets and feasts really in celebration of this new born King? I am at a loss. Most of all I really want to stand in awe at that incarnation and to be able to judge the babe in the manger worthy of the following:

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded,
For with blessing in His hand,
Christ our God to earth descendeth,
Our full homage to demand.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way,
As the Light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day,
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.

At His feet the six wingèd seraph,
Cherubim with sleepless eye,
Veil their faces to the presence,
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most

Adventous

It snowed last night. The ground, like a powdered doughnut, was just a bit dusted, but I was thankful for it. Thankful for the two minutes Simeon spent at the window in awe, for Johanna's breaking out into "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" and for the way the snow reminds me of my wedding day. I didn't even know Johanna knew "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, nor did I expect to be overwhelmed by the immensity of love, now growing, remembered at it near beginning. Of course that is the bright side of the day. A lot of it was spent swearing at the cold, cursing my chapped lips, frustrated by hyper, slightly sick children, and by German. Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht..... Not quite. Oh yes, and cursing my groom, my blissful mate for having the audacity to get sick the day before my German exam. In sickness and in health... Sure, as long as it is not a annoying head cold.

GREAT message and series

hello, my dear friends.

i truly miss you all and look foward to our coming together sometime soon (or at least within the next 8 months or so ;)

below i get into my life and what's happening, i want to invite you all to listen to probably the BEST series i've ever heard about controversial issues in the church/society. chip ingram, who used to be the pastor of santa cruz Bible chuch when i worked about mt. hermon in for two summers--camp, is now part of an international ministry based out of atlanta, ga, called "living on the edge." check out his well-reserved, loving, thought-provoking series on the following:

--sexuality
--homosexuality--chip was in the homosexual lifestyle for 3 years before coming out--he claims that this is one of his best researched teachings and one closest to his heart--amazingly done!
--feminism
--the church and politics
--abortion

access soon, b/c the lessons are only posted for a fairly short time.
how?
1) go to: www.oneplace.com
2) go to: "living on the edge" and click on it
3) either click on one of the talks that shows up at the top of the screen OR click on "show archive" where you'll scroll down to the broadcast of interest

let me know what you think, if you get a chance to have a listen! :)

in other news, i've been involved in a myriad of "short term"classes/groups. i finished a financial class (which has made me ever more confused), am finishing ALPHA (great course!), and am in the midst of a healing prayer course--awesome! i'm helping with HS girls' Sunday school too.

work continues to humble me, challenge me, and keep me seeking/depending upon God. it is strange how God keeps calling me to arenas that seem so difficult for me. at the same time, it is clear that He is working on me in my brokenness as my weaknesses, fears, insecurities arise as i work with broken young women, formerly in foster care, who mostly don't know the Lord and His life-transforming love and power.

every so often, i'm publishing my poetry in my vineyard church's womens' newsletter, which is a baby step foward in helping me to write and share my writing. amazing how personal one's writing feels. i'll include one of my pieces below and sign off. it's not my best work, but i can cut and paste it, since i've already typed it out. ;)

sending my love, ang

Poetry
Nomadic Heart
Nomadic heart, called to pitch a tent,
not build a house of steel or stone.
Nomadic heart, called to live the life of wandering where led;
stayed ever fast in Him.

Following Holy Spirit
cloud of smoke by day and pillar of fire by night.
Gazing heavenward, where my heart will wander no more.

Nomadic heart, called to pitch a tent,
not build a house of steel or stone.
Nomadic heart, called to live the life of wandering where led;
stayed ever fast in Him.

Ever tempted to extend my stay,
where familiarity and comforts lie,
though the whispering wind of the Lord gently blows.

Nomadic heart, called to pitch a tent,
not build a house of steel or stone.
Nomadic heart, called to live the life of wandering where led;
stayed ever fast in Him.

Ever questioning: to whom? to what? to where?
Fear mingling with memories of fleshly weakness,
wandering beyond my Father’s boundary lines.

Nomadic heart,
physically wandering through each mortal day.
mentally resting in Truth beyond the moment.
Nomadic heart:
a foothold on earth, a foothold in heaven.,
ever seeking, forever found.

Warming

We drew lots at the beginning of this month in order to choose a spiritual leader for October. Angela was appointed and she has been leading us in reflection and prayer. We also have initiated at Sunday Soup and have started to invite people into our home for an informal supper.

Fall in Southern Ontario is all glory and we have all been warmed by the autumninal trees afire, and the bright blue sky, and October's last bow to summer.

We wish that you all could make it for Sunday Soup and for a walk by Lake Ontario for the Fall leaves.

Dylan's Modern Times

At its worst, especially in "When the Deal Goes Down" (track 4), Nashville Modern Time Out of Line, comes off like a Willie Nelson "b" side. Near its best Dylan's latest album 'conjurs up long dead songs from their crumbling tombs.' "Rollin' and Tumblin'" (track 3) channels the sound of Blonde on Blonde's "Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine" and is almost certainly this set's catchiest tune with a vintage Dylan scheme built on repeating lines followed by one liners rather than on a chorus/stanza structure: "Well the warm weather's comin' and the buds are on the vine/ the warm weather's comin' the buds are on the vine" followed by "ain't nothing more depressing than trying to satisfy this woman of mine." So, yes, Dylan the heartbroken misogynist comes out in nearly full force here. From the same song: some young lazy slut has charmed away my brains. And, "this woman so crazy, I swear I ain't gonna touch another one for years." As is usually the case, however the act can't last: Well I rolled and I tumbled and I cried the whole night long ... Let's forgive each other darlin', let's go down to the greenwood glen/Let's put our heads together now, let's put old things to an end."

Also here is the Dylan of the Christian phase. From "the writing on the wall" near the outset of track one ("Thunder on the Mountain" - rockabilly at its finest possible) to the penultimate lines, "Excuse me, ma'am, I beg your pardon/There's no one here, the gardener is gone," of track 10 ("Ain't Walkin'), Modern Times oozes theological themes and Biblical references from every pore. The eery sound of Ain't Talkin' (just walkin') feels like an extended rumination from beyond the grave, or "the mystic garden," and that even more than any of the offerings with a similar ambiance on 1997's Time Out of Mind. Ain't Walkin', and thus the album, ends with Dylan's "Heart burnin', still yearnin'/In the last outback at the world's end." Of course, it wouldn't be Dylan if there weren't some downright loopy lines. A ryhming scheme in Thunder on the Mountain "... said my religious vows/Sucked the milk out of a thousand cows" recalls some of the other rare couplets from Dylan's past that don't quite work ("little red wagon, little red bike/I ain't no monkey, but I know what I like" from Blood on the Tracks' "Buckets of Rain").

The best this album has to give in the way of political protest is in its offering of a different kind of cowboy. Self-assurred, yes. But also deeply reflective, jilted, often dwelling in the lonesome valley of the shadow of night. The most explict attempt to live in a political world withers on the vine. Verse one of "Workingman's Blues #2" (track 6) fires up with extraordinary promise

There's an evenin' haze settlin' over town
Starlight by the edge of the creek
The buyin' power of the proletariat's gone down
Money's gettin' shallow and weak

but begins to sputter before the first go at a chorus that manages to carry the listener through the following verses as they cough, spin their wheels, and finally collapse in the platitudinous final lines of the final verse: Some people never worked a day in their life/Don't know what work even means.

"Spirit on the Water" (track 2) and "Beyond the Horizon" (track 7) could become the most ground breaking musically. They have a neo-1940's, one might say even a slow, big band rhythm. Spirit on the Water is a love song, but leagues and leagues below the standard set by "Make You Feel My Love" on Time Out of Mind. In fact, I only somewhat unfairly jotted down CCMesque lyrics in my notes the first time through the album. The ever ambigous "You" rears its ugly head as Dylan croons such lines as "I wanna be with you in paradise." To be more charitable it must be added that that line is followed up with "And it seems so unfair/I can't go to paradise no more/I killed a man back there." Beyond the Horizon, however, sneaks up on you. It wasn't until the third or fourth listen that I realized what a wondeful piece this is. It is indeed "touched with desire"; if you want a love song, here it is:

My wretched heart is pounding
I felt an angel's kiss
My memories are drowning
In mortal bliss

Beyond the horizon, the night winds blow
The theme of a melody from many moons ago
The bells of St. Mary, how sweetly they chime
Beyond the horizon I found you just in time

One reason this song took a bit of listening to in order to truly discover is that its sound contrasts so starkly with those that its sandwiched between - Workingman's Blues and the trio of tracks that complete the album with a pensive flourish. Besides Ain't Talkin', that trio includes "Nettie Moore" (track 8) and "The Levee's Gonna Break" (track 9). "If it keep on raining the levee gonna break" is twice repeated in every chorus before a line such as "Everybody saying this is a day only the Lord could make," "some people don't know which road to take," or "some people got barely enough skin to cover their bones"; but also "without you there's no meaning in anything I do" and "I tried to get you to love me, but I won't repeat that mistake." In other words, this is only obliquely and in part a song about New Orleans. It is also a break-up song, a break up song with spiritual themes making their appearances here and there.

I must admit that a large part of me hoped beyond hope that the five years that have transpired since 2001's Love and Theft might have gone some way toward reviving the Dylan of the sixties. I knew that the album wouldn't disappoint, but that it wouldn't be nearly as political as those of us who love Dylan, but especially the Dylan of The Times They Are A-Changin', could possibly hope. This song is nothing if not emblematic of such ambivalence. So Dylan sings a song that can't help but be inspired by Katrina and its aftermath, and it's a right good song. A kind of muted buoyancy pervades. But isn't there anything, anything at all that could reinstigate that flamethrowing pillar of fire of the turbulent sixties?

But so it goes. And that leaves us with Nettie Moore (track 5 "Someday Baby" is relatively humdrum for a Dylan song). By far and away my initial favorite. The song is governed by a soft, but constant beat on a solitary drum. More Indian than Cowboy. And most definitely reminiscent of Oh Mercy's "Man in the Long Black Coat." Together with Ain't Talkin' the very picture of the kind of driving but piecemeal poetry that could only be written by the aged travelling bluesman who also happens to be the greatest English speaking poet of the twentieth century. So he has to fight with T.S. Elliot in the captain's tower for that honor. A whale of a fight, indeed, but one that Dylan's endless range of styles, tricks, and weapons wins in my mind. "Lost John sittin' on a railroad track/Something's out of whack," begins the song. "Blues this mornin' fallin' down like hail." And the chorus

Oh, I miss you, Nettie Moore
And my happiness is o'r
Winter's gone, the river's on the rise
I loved you then, and ever shall
But there's no one left here to tell
The world has gone black before my eyes

It has its levity too: They say whisky'll kill you but I don't think it will. If anyone would know, surely its Dylan. He keeps on riding. Keeps on producing. Keeps on carrying his heavy burden. And, of course, continues to tour--which is where you have to go to find him at his very best these days, he's been talking about how much he hates the way album's sound on CD's. To this musical ignoramous the album sounds haunting, glorious, track after track of music that will sustain a thinking man for a long, long time. But for the man now nearing seventy who gave birth to Modern Times if not modern music, "the sun is strong, I'm standing in the light/I wish to God that it were night."

blinded by the steady lights

Many unconnected thoughts churns in my mind tonight regarding: Antigone, Natural Law, The Acts of the Apostles, M. Atwood's Alias Grace, the conjugation of the German verb Sein, Dylan's Modern Times, and a conversation I was honoured to have today with a talmudist on Paul's Epistle to the Romans.

I no longer try and place such disparate discussions into one unifying paradigm. I learn everyday and yet sometimes feel further from the truth.

I miss the orderly cosmos of my time as a fundamentalist or even of the time I spend caught up in Calvin Colleges reformed vision of the world.

But, I can't force the world back into any mould. Or to quote the sagacious Bob:

In the still of the night, in the world's ancient light
Where wisdom grows up in strife
My bewildering brain, toils in vain
Through the darkness on the pathways of life
Each invisible prayer is like a cloud in the air
Tomorrow keeps turning around


However, I am thankful that I don't inhabit quite the same dark cosmos as Dylan. He seems to turn to the more enigmatic ending of Mark where it is unclear whether Jesus is just gone or has been resurrected:

As I walked out in the mystic garden
On a hot summer day, a hot summer lawn
Excuse me, ma'am, I beg your pardon
There's no one here, the gardener is gone

I believe as Peter proclaimed at Pentecost that God did not abandon Christ's body to Hades but vindicated him. However, that does mean the world makes sense. In fact, by making the cross the pre-eminent moment in divine history it seems to put an end run around human quests for a rational, natural law. Foolishness to the Greeks...

Indeed, it is to the constancy of the God that keeps Israel even if unfaithful, and who did not abandon Christ, the God who we can address in the familiar du bist... that I turn to now to make sense of life that indeed seems at times like a dark pathway.

Indeed it is not unbelief I fear. I believe. And yet, I fear that I lack the kind of certainty necessary for faithfulness: the bold, living, ethical trust in God.

I have one of those questioning faiths so praised in intellectual circles (fides quarens intellectum)

But has this somehow alienated me from the kind of assurance that can stand up like Antigone or like Peter and John and proclaim "it is better to obey God than men."

I am standing in the night wishing to exchange places with Dylan who sings:

Today I'll stand in faith and raise
The voice of praise
The sun is strong, I'm standing in the light
I wish to God that it were night

Indeed, I can relate to this feeling of doubt that surrounds even my greatest assurances. Or, perhaps this hope that end will find me faithful.

I wish deeply to no longer be blinded by light, but to see.

Jodie

A Year All DUNN

The first post was September 22nd of last years so WNR has been up and running for almost a year. So far this venue has not been quite what I've expected--ie. a forum to discuss community. Instead it has become a Jodie authored blog. I am very happpy to see some recent contributions by Doug, Angie, and Heather. I would have pulled the plug on this blog a long time ago if I hadn't cherished some hope that it would still someday become a place to think community and communally together.

Challenging Sermon, Masonry, & a Provacative Commentary by Ben Stein

While the Nations Rage
I think I'm posting. I hope I'm posting. Dear Jode might think I've forgotten about this post this so I better be posting. Here are a few things I've sent out via email that perhaps would be read (by Jo, of course ;) if posted on the blog.

Today for devotions, I knew I needed some encouragement. What I got was not only encouragement but a challenge...the kind of challenge that I daily need reminding of, and that I need to have accountability for. Just as I am praying for the Lord to change my heart and grant me greater faith to choose Him above that which frightens, depresses, and otherwise temps me to turn "e-orish," may He also bless and challenge your hearts with this awesome sermon from the Word (another by Jon Courson).mms://65.117.84.168/topical/T347.wmaIf that doesn't work, try the following steps:1) Go to http://www.joncourson.com 2) Click on the side bar entitled, "Miscellaneous Teachings"3) Scroll down to the following and click: 01-02-00 T347 Achieving Your Destiny Numbers 13-144) Be blessed.

---
Background:
A friend of mine recently joined the Masons, and I was rather freeked out. I'd been interested in finding out more about this secret society, of which I had great misgivings, even before learning of his decision to join. Below is a lot of info. that I amassed. It is important that we as Christians know the truth about what so many men join simply b/c they claim that it is a place for "brotherhood." Lord, make our church the truth place of brotherhood and sisterhood, where our allegience is to Christ as head and one another as brothers and sisters.

Here's some of the info. that I've amassed thus far. I've read all of the links below and found them very informative and helpful. As I discover something, it seems to bring up new questions which leads me deeper in my quest for understanding. Hope you find this info. as helpful as I have.

In Christ alone,
ang

Info. on Masons:

Extensive Commentaries on Masonry by Christians:

http://www.withoneaccord.org/store/SecretSins.html
http://www.ephesians5-11.org/
http://www.iclnet.org/pub/resources/text/cri/cri-nwsl/crn0004a.txt

Ex-Masons for Jesus (Some great testimonies):
http://www.emfj.org/

Sermons about (amid a list of other sermons: see Stuart Crane's teaching on the Masonic Order 1 and 2):
http://server.firefighters.org/catalog/1998/00132.mp3

http://www.religion-cults.com/Secret/Freemasonry/freemas2.html

Description and personal opinion of theWorld Religionsand 101 Cults and SectsDenominations, Traditions, BranchesThe Occult, Freemasonry, New Age... FBOs, Mind Sciences, Ku Klux Klan...
J. Domínguez, M.D.

Main Objections to Masonry:
1) You swear in the name of a "god" but you are not able to profess ultimate allegence to Jesus Christ
2) Blood Oaths--although supposodly allegorical, they are still oaths that are taken very seriously
3) EXTREME Secrecy
4) Extensive power wrought in alligning self to people believing in all sort of "gods," including many extremely involved in the occult at the higher ranks of masonry: agendas found in their magazines
5) Occultic rituals and symbols--including a reinactment of a fellow--Hairam Abiff) who they "put to death" and ressurect--a mockery of Jesus Christ (Teaching salvation on the basis of imitating Hiram Abiff constitutes rejection of Jesus Christ); use mystical writings of Kaballah; Baal symbols; Egyptian emblem of male fertility; pentagram; etc.
6) Much more...

Exerpt from Ex-Masons for Jesus:
In these days, the words of Paul, Jude and other apostles who warned believers to stand firm, reverberate loudly. The church is under attach from without, from within, and sometimes even from the pulpit. Many congregations have been infiltrated and compromised. The most cohesive group of infiltrators the church has ever seen are the Freemasons. They work behind the scenes to subvert the Gospel, and in fact, meet in secret to teach salvation on the basis of another savior. We know this to be the fact, because we were members of the organization. We were Freemasons.
Masons are sworn to secrecy, not once, but three times, before they participate in the ritual in which Hiram Abiff willingly dies, is buried and then raised from the grave. At the conclusion of the ritual, those in lodge are told to imitate Hiram Abiff so that they can get into heaven. When the fact that all of the men who participate in the ritual do not claim to be Christians is considered, this is seen not only to be a mockery of the death, the burial and the resurrection of our Lord and Savior, but a clear statement that faith in Jesus Christ is not required to get into heaven. We are deeply grieved that we have participated in this falsehood and were taken captive by such heresy. God, in His mercy saw fit to lead us out of Freemasonry and following our repentance, He has cleansed us from unrighteousness. (1 John 1:8-9) He has released us from the ungodly oaths we took in the lodge. (Lev. 5) We are not the only ones to leave the lodge; others men continue to renounce Freemasonry. Some of them are bold enough to speak truth about the lodge, while others are so spiritually wounded from the experience that they remain dysfunctional for some time. A few former Masons continue to defend the lodge, due to fear and spiritual bondage.
Many of those who are currently involved in the heresy of Freemasonry claim to be Christians. A significant number became Freemasons before they became church members. Some of those men have infiltrated the church and by claiming that Freemasonry is not a religion, have taken many captive by a hollow and deceptive philosophy which depends on the teachings of a corrupt world system, rather than on faith in Jesus Christ.
Since Freemasonry teaches salvation on the basis of imitating Hiram Abiff, rather than faith in Jesus Christ, it seems absurd that a pastor would condone Freemasonry, let alone defend it, or actually embrace it. Yet that is what has happened in these last days in more congregations than we can count. Apostasy is widespread today.
---
The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning CommentaryHerewith at this happy time of year, a few confessions from my beating heart: I have no freaking clue who Nick and Jessica are. I see them on the cover of Peopleand Us constantly when I am buying my dog biscuits and kitty litter. I often askthe checkers at the grocery stores. They never know who Nick and Jessica are either.Who are they? Will it change my life if I know who they are and why they have brokenup? Why are they so important?I don't know who Lindsay Lohan is either, and I do not care at all about TomCruise's wife.Am I going to be called before a Senate committee and asked if I am a subversive?Maybe, but I just have no clue who Nick and Jessica are.If this is what it means to be no longer young. It's not so bad.Next confession:I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not botherme even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmastrees. I don't feel threatened. I don' t feel discriminated against. That'swhat they are: Christmas trees.It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me.I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebratingthis happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yardsaway.I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christianslike getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in Godare sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the conceptcame from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution, and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.Or maybe I ca n put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understandHim?I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too.But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from andwhere the America we knew went to.In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intendedto get you thinking.Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson askedher "How could God let something like this Happen?" (regarding Katrina)Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, "Ibelieve God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.And b eing the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expectGod to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think itstarted when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently)complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shaltnot kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehavebecause their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem(Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he'stalking about and we said OK.Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don'tknow right from wron g, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, theirclassmates, and themselves.Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I thinkit has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world'sgoing to hell.Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfirebut when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice aboutsharing.Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace,but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.Are you laughing?Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your addresslist because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of youfor sending it.Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what Godthinks of us.Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one willknow you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complainabout what bad shape the world is in.Gratitude Is A Memory Of The Heart--French Proverb

Lots to chew on. Maybe next time I'll actually comment on life as I know it--lots going on at my work with emancipated foster youth. Keep us in your prayers. We NEED God's wisdom.

Much love,
angie

Baby Yana

My 12 days at Mike's and Heather's are over. It will be so good to see my runts again.

Yana is a bright, happy, beautiful baby with a long stubborn streak and real love of green trees and fresh air and naps on Daddy's and Mommy's chest.

Yana' feeding schedule remains complicated. She is fed every three hours in the daytime and each feeding takes a little over and hour: heather pumps, feeds by bottle, and administers the rest of the food through a tube in Yana's nose. This rigorous schedule makes doing the rest of the life's stuff extremely difficult.

As you can all imagine Heather and Mike are wonderful parents! I am really proud of the patient, loving, dilligent, care they give to her.

I wish Canada was not so vast so that the distance between Toronto and Lethbridge wasn't so great.

Yana

Jodie is here to visit...therefore the mandatory blogging! (haha) Well, I now know what it's like to be a fuzzy headed momma living in babyland. Yana, Mike and I are faring well - establishing new routines (especially around feeding) and enjoying our little girl's pretty normal babyhood. We're so happy that besides a rigourous feeding schedule and once a day meds, Yana's life is pretty similar to any other baby without heart problems - and she's such a happy, content kid! Our docs have given her straight A's so far and say to expect her 2nd surgery around November - that one is open heart, so it's quite a bit more serious than the first one. It's a series of 3 surgeries to recreate the circulation in her heart using just one pumping chamber instead of 2. The 3rd surgery will be when she's 2 or 3. Please pray for us as we head into the beginning of Mike's busy season. It will be an adjustment for us all from the lazy dazy days of summer! We've come to think of ourselves as living in a dictatorship - speaking of which...the 10 lb dictator calls! HEATHER

Go Trolley Go

I cut out of my Lazarus Rising street walk early tonight so I could get home to help put the kids to bed. Jodie's gone to visit Heather, Yana, and Mike in Lethbridge. Both had taken long naps so I said I'd try to be home by 9:15 and Sim could stay up until then and Johanna later. I was at Queen and University at 1/4 to, but had to wait till a few minutes after nine before a trolley came along - a double car, quite packed, of course, after such a long wait.

Just after Dufferin the trolley suddenly stops, second time this has happened today - other time with Sim and Jo on the way to see a friend from the street in the hospital, the driver comes on over the speakers and says there's some guy who has gotten on and won't pay the fare and won't get off and he's not moving until the guy gets off or TTC supervisors or security come and remove him. Well, lo and behold, this muttering old timer plops his ass down two seats over from me. I'm in the very back reading Moby Dick. Everyone just waits for awhile while the driver and he go back and forth a bit. He shouting "Thou shalt not kill. I've got to get to the hospital; i'm going to have a heart attack." The driver insisting he's staying put. Our fellow, inviting him to come back and have his adam's apple ripped out - "Thou shalt not kill" - or his head cut off or to perform a lewd act.

After a few minutes, the other passengers start getting into it. At first, I'd just chuckled a bit, as did the African Canadian dude a seat up and to the right. Now, I notice a hospital bracelet. "Hey buddy, you trying to get up to St. Joseph's." "Yeah, can't walk that far. Tired. Gonna have a heart attack." "Okay, well why don't you get off here and wait at the Coffee Time. I'll get my van and come back and take you to St. Joe's." "Alright" he says and storms off the bus, leaving a few invectives hanging in the air behind him. Says my chuckling buddy incredulously, "you aren't really going to come back and get him are you?" "Yeah," I shrug, as if its all in a day's work. And why not? Last night at Sanctuary's dinner I was in the thick of an even more delicate situation with an aboriginal fellow who a decade or so ago held our nurse Keren at knife point for 20 minutes insisting that he needed to kill a white person to settle historical wrongs. "Be careful" exclaims another, somewhat amazed passenger, and off we go.

So I get home a bit before 9:30 and Angela is just tyring to put Sim to bed. He's quite excited to see me and they say he's ready for bed, but has just started to say Mama, mama, mama. He goes down easily enough for me with a round of Go Dog Go, Goodnight My Child and Great is Thy Faithfulness. Johanna comes in the door right as I'm getting ready to put him down, but that doesn't bother him a bit.

Jo had taken a long nap so I take her along in the van with Ben to see if our friend is at Coffee Time. He is. We get him down to emerg without incident. Doesn't seem to be much too much wrong with him, though there's some bombast along the way. Offers to fix, paint, or whatever we need for the van: "oil jobs, breaks, I do it all. And I don't charge nothing except maybe a cup of coffee and a donut. Maybe a beer. She's running pretty right now, doesn't need anything. What year is she '95? '96?" "'98 I think." "You just give me a call." "Sounds good!" He wants me to stay with him until he's registered in case the guard is there that doesn't like him. I show him in, but beg off staying as there's a line at the desk. "Gotta get my daughter to sleep." "Oh, okay. I'll be here most of the night." "I'll come back a bit later."

So we head back. Johanna gets the chips I promised her as we were heading out the door to Coffee Time. Harold and the Purple Crayon. Crictor. E-cards from and to mama. Goodnight my child, twinkle twinkle, hey diddle diddle, the Shema, Our Father, Praise God from whom all blessings flow, and she's out. Back to St. Joe's, he's out. Sprawled slack-jawed across a chair in the emerg waiting room. I consider waking him slightly to just say hello, but think better of it when I glance at his comrades-in-waiting, viscerally glad that he's conked out. Perhaps I'll go by again tomorrow if time allows.

I wish we got HBO.

New Orleans--2005

Morning has broke
The mayflowered breeze of that dawn
Not so early and what light?
Nothern?
Slaves running...
Dreaming.
Falling Rocks. Not on me.
I ain't
Man or a woman until the roads are traversable
and whose gonna bury the dead?
Don't matter no more!
Quilts with birds or any the like
Ain't gonna save the ship.
No pretending
When the saints roll in all our waters gonna be troubled.

Another Day

An encouraging story about a mega-church!?

Yate's Trial

Andrea Yates judged not guilty, by reason of insanity. It was this case, in particular the miscarriage of justice in a judicial pronouncement of “insane, but guilty”, that prompted me towards my current research interest: “Sin and Sanity in 19th century America.” Strangely, I find this verdict (almost) as unsatisfying as the first. At first my interest in the case was stoked by the callousness of some theological commentators on the case; specifically, a discussion of the Society of Christian Philosophers over whether some one with diminished will or reason could even be considered a “person.” The conversations were carried on from the raving lunacy of the syllogism (as if one could understand such a dark mystery of human fragility through A causes B (mitigated by C only if D, E, and F). I then turned to the public debate

The National Review blamed feminism. They satirized a letter from NOW. “Stop Persecuting Andrea,” it read, “defend her liberating views on the origin of human life. Fight our culture’s war on women.” It is time that the world gets the message, “a home paid for by a man is no place for a woman.” Yates was far from a feminist. She accepted the control of her husband including his command that she only have one friend. Yet, the Review lampooned NOW in part because its members did defend Andrea Yates – donations came in to help defray her legal bills and dozens of famous women recounted their experience with post-partum depression and the rigors of motherhood. While not condoning her actions, they could sympathize.
Many implicated the Yates’s Christianity, faulting the biblical narrative of Abraham, belief in demons and hell, and the crazy itinerant preacher who convinced Andrea that bad mothers are witches. Others blamed Randy Yates, Andrea’s husband, and the “conservative Christian culture that continues to empower controlling and abusive husbands.”

Some conservative Christians, most notably James Dobson, defended the validity of Andrea’s illness on the basis that no well mother would ever do such a thing to her children. However, several other notable conservatives thought Yates was either a sinner or wickedly insane. Chuck Colson suggested that “scripture should have been the arbitrator of Andrea’s worldview” and if she had only read her bible more she wouldn’t have fallen for such malicious lies. World Magazine took a similar tack suggesting that Andrea was “guilty of not feeding truth to her conscience.” They argued, using the first chapter of Romans, that humans are culpable both for irrationality and the malicious acts which may result: “to despoil a moral compass by a history of small rejections of the light is to become more (not less) culpable for the immoral action that may result, though the subject does not feel guilty.” Yates could have resisted the suggestions of the devil just as Christ did: “when he heard voices saying ‘Throw yourself from the pinnacle of the temple…’ he rebuked them.”7

Perhaps the most interesting thing about the articles that circulated at the time of Andrea’s trial was how very much they tried to see in her actions a place for broader social commentary – motherhood is too difficult, Christianity is too oppressive, abortion is too accessible. Many mentioned post-partum depression. Few mentioned that Andrea actually was diagnosed with schizophrenia and rare post-partum psychosis. In fact, even in the articles defending Yates, mental illness played a secondary role in commentators’ explanation of her actions. She murdered because she was insane with too many children, insane and a conservative Christian, or insane and a dominated housewife. It is little wonder that the courts concluded that she was insane and guilty. It is not easy to explain insane acts without confusing them with sin.

The problem is hard to solve. Sin and insanity are difficult to distinguish. Is it possible to differentiate the environmental factors which trigger mental illness from the evil habituation which is the cause of human sin? How is the vitiated reason of fallen humans different from the impaired reason of mentally ill? What distinguishes the bound will of the cussed from the involuntary actions of the mad?

I suppose in the weeks ahead we will be treated to more commentary on these matters. I can’t say that I am looking forward to it. I have my own ideas on to theologically understand such matters. And yet, mostly I am left saying with
Augustine:

Crazy people say and do many incongruous things, things for the most part alien to their intentions and characters, certainly contrary to their good intentions and characters; and when we think about their words and actions, or see them with our eyes, we can scarcely—or possibly we cannot at all—restrain our tears, if we consider their situation as it deserves to be considered. St. Augustine, City of God.

Long Silence

Boy. It has been a busy couple of weeks culminating with Doug and I both preaching on the same Sunday last week. Sometime soon I will post that sermon. I went with Doug on one of his street walks this past Friday. This experience brought me closer to the heart (and the loins) of Toronto. We passed along the border of four of the major sex trade districts: "high-end" girls, "middle-range" girls, transvestites, and boy's town. (This disturbs the heart and the senses). We also visited some people at a harm-reduction shelter for alcoholics (they serve alcohol throughout the day.) Our companion on the street walk was a fellow church member, communist ex-pat, a one time writer for the Globe and Mail, and one hell of a story teller. I think Doug would admit that our friend ended up leading the walk with his ability to initiate a bull session with just about anyone. He was making fast friends, giving out his phone number, and talking like an insider about the shelters in town.

Monday Night Prayer

It is almost too hot tonight to pray. Lord, I ask that you would bless this experiment in life together. The heat makes it all too concise and clear that community is difficult. Protect us from irreconcilable differences. Give us the grace to accuse and forgive, argue and apologize, think new thoughts, and deconstruct our perspectives. We are more than two or three please let your spirit come, pouring holy manna all around, bending and breaking our flinted hearts, granting us the wild eyed wonder of a child in a garden fixated on teleology. Oh how things can grow. And we could grow, but, only with your help. Oh, husband of the good vine keep us painfully aware of what must be pruned. And please teach us to glory in each other’s blooms like they were are own. Amen

Agatha, Andrea and my interest in psychology

I recently finished a ridiculous Agatha Christie novel “Trial by Innocence.” The whole plot depended on biological determinism. A mother of six adopted children is slain in her home. Potentially any of the children adopted out of situations of extreme poverty could be the assailant. They are all essentially unstable stock: cussed misfits, born swindlers, and homicidal maniacs.

Last week the USA Today featured a story on Andrea Yates the Texas mother who killed her 5 children because she believed Satan commanded her to do it. The psychological expert called on by the prosecution Park Dietz testified that while her actions sprang from delusion (Satan told her through morning cartoons to slay her children she nonetheless) knew right from wrong. In fact she testified that she wanted George Bush and the rod of human justice to rid her of her demons. Instead of being evidence of a lack of mental competence Yates aspirations were deemed by the witness for the prosecution to be a clear sign that she knew right from wrong. Dietz asserts,

“Under Texas law, if a mentally ill person commits a murder in response to command hallucinations from God, they would surely be insane," he said. "If they did it at the direction of the chief of police, they are arguably insane. If they believed it at the direction of a gang leader, at the direction of Napoleon, at the direction of Satan, they are not insane. Gang leaders, Napoleon and Satan do not have moral authority in Texas.”

Use your delusions I guess. The situation is made all the less clear cut by the recognition that Yates believed that God was using her sinful act as an avenue for the salvation of the children. She would face civic punishment (which would incidently rid her of the Satan within.) They would merit eternal life (having been sacrificed before the age of accountability.) That such thought patterns represent a knowledge of right and wrong is ludicrous. Her civic punishment might be fine with Andrea Yates and Park Dietz but it ain’t justice. While, I could never embrace the absolute determinism of Agatha I nonetheless believe that insanity exists and sometimes in our fallen world people are not strictly responsible for their actions. In part we have a judicial system precisely to arbitrate these sorts of exceptional situations. Pandemic fears of the abuse of the insanity defense was born in large part as a reaction to the eugenic thinking represented by Christie in her novel. It is time to snapback from the long arch of this backlash. Justice demands that we do so.

Community News

Jodie and Doug became members of TUMC (Toronto United Mennonite Church) last Sunday.
They also recently trekked to California and Oregon for vacation. While there they attended John and Brooke's wedding and got a chance to catch up with Jessica, Angie, Anne, Naji, Jonathan, Sebastian, and Emmanuel.

Doug is moving to a 3/4 time position working with the homeless as the street pastor for Lazarus Rising.

Simeon is adding words to his vocabulary by the scores every week. This Sunday he managed to smash a score of glasses all over the church floor during coffee hour. He recently got his first hair cut and enjoyed time spent with Grammi, Grampi, Nana, and Uncle Jeff out in California.

Johanna enjoyed being a flower girl in John and Brooke's and Uncle Jeff and Aunt Cyndia's wedding. She is planning ahead already to her next visit to Grandma's at Christmas and to her own wedding.

Steve is becoming more and more at ease living with us crazy kids and continue to remain very active at Sanctuary.

Angela is enjoying mothering Jacob, gardening, and soccer (watching and playing.)

Ben and Angela are doing and are doing a good job making friends amongst the neighbors. They enjoy worshipping at Parkdale Neighborhood church and revel in the unexpected there (for instance just this week someone asked "can I get some butter with this bread" when they were having communion.

Jacob is sitting, verbalizing, smiling and giggling, and all-in-all getting to be a very big boy.

Jodie and Angela are excitedly planning a trip to Alberta to see Heather, Mike and Yana.