An uncertain plea for outrage.

Two Muslim converts guilty of killing UK soldier Lee Rigby on London street >

I'd like to hear from a Muslim that these men, their actions, and their lack of remorse, do not characterize the vast majority of Muslims.

I really want to believe that, and on some level I do.

I’ve seen caring Muslims reach out to Christians, and that reassures me that there are Muslims that are just as interested in peaceful coexistence and dialog as many Christians are. See this Merry Christmas wish from a Muslim >, for example.

[2013-12-19]

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Clarence dreams about being back at the store.

I had a dream that I was back at the store stocking shelves, wearing as I did in those days a long-sleeved thermal undershirt, and over that the store uniform, a short-sleeved red polo shirt. (I worked in dairy and frozen and needed two layers).

As was often the case, when I had finished dairy, and if I wasn’t needed in frozen, I was pulled over into dry grocery. We got 1,000-2,000 cases a night 6 days a week into dry grocery; each grocery stocker was expected to throw (stock) 400+ cases each night, and a few aisles (especially, soup & glass and fruit & juice) often needed help.

Back to my dream: I am in the grocery department, on my knees stocking the bottom shelf. A couple people pass by and laugh at me. I’m not sure why they’re laughing, perhaps because I’m dressed for the arctic conditions of dairy and frozen but I’m sweating in my thermal underwear in grocery.

Still dreaming: I think to myself, My pride should be hurt somehow, I’m above this; but I reconsider and tell myself No, it’s honest work, and it’s enough for me to know I do it well.

And that is where the dream ends.

[2103-12-12]

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Meeting God in space or in the Shroud of Turin

Many years ago when I was at Bethel Christian School and our English teacher, Miss Emerson, said you can meet God in space, I immediately snorted, and looked indignant (as I was a budding astrophysicist and smart aleck).

 

“Mr Oddbody, you have something to share?”

“Everyone knows you can’t meet God in space.”

She then told us a story of an astronaut that apparently had a religious experience aboard Space Lab or the space shuttle or something, which, of course, qualified as having met God “in space,” and also conveniently sidestepped the obvious that God is, in that sense, everywhere.

I think Geraldine (not her real name) stuck her tongue out at me.

Where’s an inkwell when you need one?

It sometimes sucked to be Clarence in 8th grade.

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I just heard that 95% of scientists that studied the Shroud of Turin have become Christians. I can’t verify that, but it’s interesting even if an exaggeration.

It’s not at all hard to believe that 2,000 years ago a few folks saved an item they thought belonged to God.

And it wouldn’t surprise me if the scientists’ proximity to believers during their research had just as much effect (if not more).

Ever have one of those moments where you find out a super-smart whositz believes thus-and-so, and you reconsider your own opinion on the subject?

I do that all the time, and we all do it (hopefully) in the classroom.

It’s called learning.

[2013-December]

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Going to Africa. Hope I don’t get AIDS. Just kidding. I’m stupid.

Timely dialogs often start with stupid comments. That doesn’t make the comments any less stupid.

 

That would be like crediting a fire for being hot

 

Case in point: CNN story on Justine Sacco’s epic fail >

You ever hear a manager say “Yeah, he says stupid things like that all the time, but that’s why we hired him, gets the rest of us talking”?

 

[2013-12-23]

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I’m often inclined to be critical before I’m complimentary. I don’t know why. It’s a hard habit to break, but the conscious struggle has some value of its own. On the other hand, if I’m impressed, I tend to forgive even gratuitous ineptitude.

I trust my gut when I sense something amiss and later verify my suspicions. I am not often wrong.

[2013-12-24]

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Bethel Christian School revival circa 1975

I have firsthand experience of how an emotionally worked-up crowd can be manipulated by circumstances and the energy of those around it. Not maliciously, mind you, just powerfully.

This was in 8th grade at Bethel Christian School (which was at that time at 737 E. 26th Street in Erie, PA - map >).

Every Thursday morning (as I recall), we had chapel in the sanctuary, sort of a mini-church service in which we sang a hymn and received a lesson. The speaker was normally the principal or a teacher, but occasionally a guest.[1]

At one particular chapel service, a prayer request (which was often public) turned into an emotional plea for the soul of an older brother (it happened to be Jenny Beers asking for prayer for the eldest Beers boy, who was out of school and working at the family bakery).

That prompted another emotional plea from someone else, only this wasn’t for the soul of a loved one, but for the forgiveness of a friend, which opened the door to immediate pains we all carry with us almost every day but don’t voice.

Soon nearly the entire secondary student body was in tears, including myself, even though I didn’t stand and speak.

It was a healthy and good thing, as repentance and forgiveness usually are.

 

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[1]

These are all the teachers and speakers I can remember from Bethel Christian School circa 1975:

• Mr Meeker, principle and history teacher

• Miss Emerson (later Blystone), English teacher

• Mr Blystone, science and math teacher

• Mrs Rhodes, music teacher

• Miss Wakely, art teacher

• Mrs Andrus, bible teacher

• Mr Pikai (sp?), Russian teacher

• George Alquist, special speaker

He made an indelible impression on me when, during an Easter lesson, he hammered spikes into a 4x4 on the platform at the front of the sanctuary, then said: “That’s what Jesus heard when they were nailing him to the cross.” My nerves are still jangling.

George Alquist is now pastor at Grace of Calvary Baptist Church in Erie, PA. He was ordained by Bethel’s Pastor Andrus, IIRC. His brand of Christianity is, in my opinion, unnecessarily severe and suspicious if the recent Halloween message streamed from their website is any indication. That doesn’t change the jarring success of his demonstration all those years ago, but it’s unfortunate that he can't get past some benign symbols and children’s merrymaking.

If objects are to be avoided because of their previous association, there is nothing we can enjoy at all, from Christmas trees to calendars.

• Mr ?, classical French horn player, special speaker

I can’t recall Mr ?’s name (something like Ott or Ort; it’s been so long, I just don’t know). Mr ? was a Christian and highly respected and professional orchestral French horn player. He travelled with a musical podium and sound system from which he introduced new musical genres.

I recall well when he played a brief piece of a Negro spiritual which included the lyrics “little brown baby,” and all of us lily-white kids laughed. He remarked very calmly and authoritatively that our laughter was only evidence of our immaturity; we all were ashamed, stopped laughing and began listening, and learning.

[2013-12-12]

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My 5-second opinion on the Duck Dynasty fuss.

Phil Robertson  is a popular guy with an unpopular opinion in a country that celebrates the right to express unpopular opinions.

What am I missing?

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If anyone's interested, this is Clarence's opinion on homosexuality > (and a few other things).

[2013-12-24]

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I worked from home today because our local Storm Watch Alert Forecast Weather Tracker Team Center said we’d get 4-7 inches of snow. Local NPR was saying 2-4.

Who to believe?

I know that local weather folks exaggerate conditions (if it’s hot, they estimate scalding, if it’s cold, they predict arctic, and if everyone else is saying it’s slow and slushy, they wax apocalyptic).

I’ve gotten used to interpreting local weather based on who’s delivering it, but a simple snowfall can’t be that different from one meteorologist to the next, can it?

[2013-12-11]

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Why Grandma Cairns stopped going to church.

When I was a boy, my Grandma Cairns (Geneva Cairns, née Bauer) never went to church. She stayed home and made a big Sunday dinner. I ate many of those and they were something only grandmas can do. Once upon a time, she'd gone to the evening service, but that stopped many years ago.

We asked as children why Grandma didn’t go to church, and for years the answer was simply the one I gave above.

We learned as young adults that at some point in the past, before I was born, a pastor at Bethel Baptist Church in Erie said some Christians are like certain flowers that only bloom at night.

Well, Grandma thought he was speaking to her (and he may very well have been) and she stopped going entirely. Grandpa still went, every Sunday, but Grandma stayed home. She was still a sincere Christian, read through the bible every year with Grandpa, but wouldn’t let the old slight pass.

Of course, sometimes our response to a slight becomes more problematic than the offense itself, and that may have been the case with Grandma.

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This is my recollection. If anyone recalls differently, I’d love to be corrected.

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I suspect Grandma was compared to one of these:

10 Lovely Flowers Which Bloom Only At Night >

[2013-12-19]

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A moment in which the utterly mundane becomes magic.

As I’ve been listening to an assortment of Old Time Radio programs with Christmas themes, I’m struck by just how delightfully ordinary Christmas used to be.

The season touched every show you can think of, from musical reviews to “This Is Your FBI.” Christmas themes (with references to baby saviors and mangers and magi) were less decorative than integrated elements, like recipe ingredients that alter texture or flavor.

These shows were broadcast once and forgotten. No one ever thought they’d be heard again, and certainly not streamed over the Internet and available on demand.

Something meant to be once and done, but that lives on, is a commentary on the talents who thought these shows would now be only radio waves rippling ever weaker into space.

Christmas is a moment in which the utterly mundane becomes magic.

From a baby in a manger to old stockings drying over the fireplace.

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Fast forward 50-60 years. This commercial really brings home the true meaning of Christmas:

Show Your Joe

I’m impressed. It’s not every swinging dick that can play Jingle Bells with his balls.

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Merry Christmas.

[2013-12-19]

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Clarence’s Christmas Cookies...

These are the cookies that Clarence and family made this year. Clarence baked, Mrs Oddbody and Dee Dee decorated.

 

		Clarence's Christmas Cookies VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

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My little girl Dee Dee made this cup for me for my birthday. It’s among the the most special gifts I’ve ever received.

[2013-11-29]

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For crying out loud, children are watching...

I think my beautiful wife and little girls might see Santa this way…

I think we need to legislate an Asian Santa. Just because a lot of little Asian kids are conflicted by an annual message of peace and generosity coming from a white man.

You don’t like it? You get egg drop soup in your stocking.

(As someone very smart said on CNN a couple days ago - a woman of color - Santa is whatever color your family is. Get over it.)

 

Slate: Santa Claus Should Not Be a White Man Anymore >
New York Post: Yes, Aisha, there can be a black Santa Claus >

[2013-12-16]

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Most of the world is neurotic and will abuse any popular sentiment if given the chance. It’d be one thing if all this nonsense did was upset the grownups, but children are watching.

[2013-12-17]

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My mother picked the very best one (why ancient knowledge may be just what you think it is.)

I’m periodically amazed how children's traditions transfer from one generation to the next with absolutely no formal instruction or schools or written or recorded materials.

 

For example:

Dee Dee gets ready to decorate Christmas cookies and says eenie meenie minee mo (“miny mo”?)

Small instances like this are windows into fundamental processes that govern how knowledge is transferred from one generation to the next.

It's very popular to temper enthusiasm for ancient knowledge that was transferred orally. Some theologians and historians (many very good ones) remind us how stories change within even a couple generations (from “Grandpa landed at Normandy on D-Day” to “Grandpa single-handedly captured a Nazi battalion”).

Note here however that Dee Dee repeats this rhyme verbatim from my childhood, and no doubt from yours as well.

Consider how information might survive that was transferred by adults and considered far more vital. There’s no leap of faith needed at all to believe that even after thousands of years, many words of prophetic ancients retain their original sense.

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There is, BTW, a gender variation with this lyric. When I was in grade school at Vernondale Elementary in Millcreek, PA, boys said “catch a doggie by the toe” and excluded the section regarding “my mother said.” Only girls said “catch a tiger” and included mom.

[2013-12-13]

 

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Santacon-cussion and docetic carols

I heard a minister on the radio recently decry the lyrics to “Away in a Manger,” in which it is said “no crying he makes,” regarding the sleeping infant Jesus.

He said all babies cry and the baby Jesus did too and we need to dispense with some of these unrealistic pictures of his birth.

He really got worked up, so much so that I can't help but think there was more behind his response than objections to a children’s carol.

He went on to identify other ways in which popular religious songs and images get it wrong, but he lost me after his manger rant, and I thought, what’s the harm? A minister (of all people) ought to see the comfort and assurance in a few benign images surrounding the birth of Jesus.

His remarks were just a little less annoying than a bunch of brawling drunken Santas at Santacon.

(An afterthought: I read a blog comment recently that a quiet baby Jesus diverts attention from Jesus as fully human and actually verges on Docetism, a heresy which denied Christ’s total humanity. Seems to me instead like an adult lost something special a long time ago and has had trouble finding it again.)

[2013-12-16]

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Everyone I know (except the little ones of course), complain about how hectic and stressful Christmastime is.

Everyone.

Seems like with that kind of unanimity, we could agree to do something about it.

[2013-12-17]

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Just listen (and wear a fanny pack).

The abundance of ingratiating “I have no right to understand your pain,” especially when it comes from straights discussing gays or one color discussing another, is getting pretty thick nowadays. We’ve come to expect some element of self-loathing to reassure the moderator and audience we aren’t a closet _____ (fill in the blank).

(Eg, I’m straight, so I can’t possibly contribute meaningfully to a conversation on gay issues.)

Baloney.

We all have some valid perspectives on ourselves and each other, and until we start listening to them, we won’t dispel each other’s misconceptions.

Just listen. That’s all. Then think about what you heard.

There is nothing - no injury or emotion or idea or fault - that is not shared by us all.

[2013-12-14]

[I wrote this before the whole Duck Dynasty flap started. It's providing a timely example of how both sides are not listening. Watch and try to figure out who is seeking to understand. Both sides are talking at each other, not with. And even those who are pleading for simple perspicuity are shouted down or tacitly shrouded. 2013-12-20]

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I don’t understand what’s up with “ugly “ sweaters. I’ve never seen one I didn't like. I think they’re festive and they look warm.

And I like fruitcake.

And I think fanny packs are practical. I’m afraid to wear one though because of the gasps I got when I said that out loud.

[2013-12-17]

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