Really sad... the Pinochet Files ctd

From the 7 August New York Times

It was appalling to watch over the last few days as Congress — now led by Democrats — caved in to yet another unnecessary and dangerous expansion of President Bush’s powers, this time to spy on Americans in violation of basic constitutional rights. Many of the 16 Democrats in the Senate and 41 in the House who voted for the bill said that they had acted in the name of national security, but the only security at play was their job security.

There was plenty of bad behavior. Republicans marched in mindless lockstep with the president. There was double-dealing by the White House. The director of national intelligence, Mike McConnell, crossed the line from being a steward of this nation’s security to acting as a White House political operative.

But mostly, the spectacle left us wondering what the Democrats — especially their feckless Senate leaders — plan to do with their majority in Congress if they are too scared of Republican campaign ads to use it to protect the Constitution and restrain an out-of-control president.

The votes in the House and Senate were supposed to fix a genuine glitch in the 1978 Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, which requires the government to obtain a warrant before eavesdropping on electronic communications that involve someone in the United States. The court charged with enforcing that law said the government must also seek a warrant if the people are outside the country, but their communications are routed through data exchanges here — a technological problem that did not exist in 1978.

Instead of just fixing that glitch, the White House and its allies on Capitol Hill railroaded Congress into voting a vast expansion of the president’s powers. They gave the director of national intelligence and the attorney general authority to intercept — without warrant, court supervision or accountability — any telephone call or e-mail message that moves in, out of or through the United States as long as there is a “reasonable belief” that one party is not in the United States. The new law all but eviscerates the 1978 law. The only small saving grace is that the new statute expires in six months.

The House handled this mess somewhat better than the Senate, moving to the floor a far more sensible bill. Mr. McConnell certified that the House bill would address the problem raised by the court. That is, until the White House made clear that it wanted to use the court’s ruling to grab a lot more power. Mr. McConnell then reversed his position and demanded that Congress pass the far more expansive bill.

In the Senate, the team of Harry Reid, the majority leader, gave up fast, agreeing to a deal that doomed any good bill. The senators then hurriedly approved the White House bill, dumped it on the House and skulked off on vacation. Representative Rahm Emanuel, the fourth-ranking member of the Democratic House leadership, said yesterday that his party would not wait for the new eavesdropping authority to expire, and would have a new, measured bill on the floor by October. We look forward to reading it.

But the problem with Congress last week was that Democrats were afraid to explain to Americans why the White House bill was so bad and so unnecessary — despite what the White House was claiming. There are good answers, if Democrats are willing to address voters as adults. To start, they should explain that — even if it were a good idea, and it’s not — the government does not have the capability to sort through billions of bits of electronic communication. And the larger question: why, six years after 9/11, is this sort of fishing expedition the supposed first line of defense in the war on terrorism?

While serving little purpose, the new law has real dangers. It would allow the government to intercept, without a warrant, every communication into or out of any country, including the United States. Instead of explaining all this to American voters — the minimal benefits and the enormous risks — the Democrats have allowed Mr. Bush and his fear-mongering to dominate all discussions on terrorism and national security.

Mr. Bush claims that he has kept America safe since 9/11. But that claim ignores the country’s very real and present vulnerabilities. Six years after the 9/11 attacks the administration has still failed to secure American ports, railroads and airports from terrorist attack, and has put the profits of the chemical and nuclear-power industries ahead of safeguarding their plants.

Mr. Bush also worries Democratic strategists by talking about “staying on the offensive” against terrorism, but it was his decision to invade Iraq that diverted resources from the real offensive, the one against Al Qaeda in Afghanistan and Pakistan.

Mr. Bush’s incessant fear-mongering — and the Democrats’ refusal to challenge him — has had one notable success. The only issue on which Americans say that they trust Republicans more than Democrats is terrorism. At least those Americans are afraid of terrorists. The Democrats who voted for this bill, and others like it over the last few years, show only fear of Republicans.

The Democratic majority has made strides on other issues like children’s health insurance against White House opposition. As important as these measures are, they do not excuse the Democrats from remedying the damage Mr. Bush has done to civil liberties and the Bill of Rights. That is their most important duty.

Vigil of the Transfiguration (last night)

Last night some friends invited us to go to the last concert of the Vermont Mozart Festival summer concert series that the Vermont Mozart Festival Orchestra puts on. The event took place on a meadow at the Trapp Family Lodge property, tucked up against the Mount Mansfield ridge. It was my first time going to one of these concerts and it was lots of fun, a perfect way to spend the Vigil of the Feast of the Transfiguration.

Looking out across the way is the Worcester Range, where I go hiking up Hunger Mountain (the bump in the middle of the ridge). I have looked over to this little notch many times without realising what it was.

It was a gorgeous summer night, clear, dry and no rain in the forecast. The four of us bon vivants had a good meal of lamb, tobuli, marinated artichokes, fresh tomato, Spanish wine and fresh cherries.

As it was the last concert for the summer, a ton of people showed up. It was fascinating to see what everyone brought in their picnic baskets but a staple seemed to be a bottle of wine.

By the time the orchestra started to play, the lawn was completely full.

The concert was great, too: Mozart's Overture to the Magic Flute, K. 620, Beethoven's Sixth Symphony, Op. 68 (at the point at which the flute goes back and forth on a second-interval, a real bird was twittering in the background), and Mozart's Concertante in E-flat Major for four winds and orchestra, K. 297b.

Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony has long been a favourite (having had to read André Gide's La Symphonie Pastorale, which is based in part on this opus, in 11th grade French class and then sophomore year in college writing a paper on its first movement) so I was delighted to hear it vivo.

By the time the orchestra started the concertante, the sun was beginning to go down behind the notch.

At concert's end, there were fireworks (twice in one weekend!). I took a bunch of photos but it is much harder without my good-old Canon AE1.




All in all, it was a delightful evening with some friends, good food, wine, and music. It was also wonderful to be a 'real person' for a change, going out and doing something not at all connected with the church.

Feast of the Transfiguration (trans)

The Feast of the Transfiguration, normally observed on August 6th, but moved forward a day this year, always seems to add a mid-course corrective into our collective faith journey. Here in the dog days of summer, when winter and Lent seem far away either in the past or future, the Feast of the Transfiguration, niggles at us. Why? Because the gospel reading we hear today is also the same one we hear the last Sunday of Epiphany, before plunging into Lent. While we are smack in the middle of the Season after Pentecost, I think having the memory jog is always good thing — namely, we go through the cross to get to eternal life. Sometimes we forget the final direction in which we are headed.

In the gospel according to Luke, the Transfiguration lands almost in the middle between the account of Jesus’ baptism and his prayer at Gethsemane. The gospel reading begins by saying that eight days have happened after ‘these sayings.’ The sayings to which Luke refers speak about discipleship and Jesus’ prediction of the passion, some of which we have heard in the past couple of weeks. It is eight days after Peter’s confession to who Jesus is, the Messiah of God. Peter, John and James accompany Jesus up the mountain, away from the plain where he has finished preaching. The end of Jesus’ Galilean ministry has come; Jesus now turns his face resolutely to Jerusalem, and the passion. At this turning point of the gospel, one at which Jesus has been identified for who he is and where the focus now shifts to the march to the cross, the action literally picks up.

While up on the mountaintop, ostensibly to pray, Jesus is joined by two well-known, historical figures, Moses and Elijah. They speak to Jesus about his exodus, which he is about to fulfill in Jerusalem. Jesus’ witnesses, Peter, John and James, sleep through the encounter, previewing how well they will remain awake the night before the crucifixion, perhaps also explaining Peter’s garbled response when he finally comes to.

As the disciples are figuring out what is going on around them, a cloud overshadows them — reminding us of the force that overshadowed Mary in the beginning of the gospel at the annunciation. Once again, Jesus is identified for who he is but this time, the identification comes from a heavenly voice, which declares: This is my Son, my chosen One. The voice adds a directive: Listen to him, a command that in other gospels and this one happens at the moment of Jesus’ baptism.

The gospel text is so rich we could spend hours on the many different threads that are woven into it. But one thread shines out this morning to me and it is because of where we stand as a faith community and where I stand as an individual. That thread is the thread of ‘exodus,’ or journey.

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The gospel reports that Moses and Elijah spoke with Jesus about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem.

There have been so many attempts over the centuries to identify the symbolism of the two Old Testament figures, Moses and Elijah. But the best suggestion I have run across states that Moses represents the prophetic office that Jesus will occupy, while Elijah pictures the hope of the world to come. Jesus will function as a Moses-like figure who will draw people around himself in much the way that Moses drew together the nation of Israel. With Jesus comes a new period, a new age, a new way of living and being God’s people, a new way of relating to God. And so Elijah is present on the mountain as a reminder of another time when people related to God in new, life-giving ways.

Equally important, though, is Moses’ connection with the Exodus. It is no coincidence that the three talk about Jesus’ exodus (the same word is used in the original Greek). Exodus — a word that takes on many levels of meaning: it is a departure that allows coming to life, to the resurrection. The exodus is the Passover, the passage to the promised land, a sign of the kingdom. Calling death an exodus means that death is not the end of Jesus’ plan. In fact, joined together in one sentence with the key word, ‘exodus,’ is another key word, ‘fulfillment.’ Jesus’ exodus — his journey to Jerusalem, his death on the cross and the resurrection — are part of God’s plan, which will come to pass. The transfiguration, then, foreshadows Jesus’ death on the cross. When Moses and Elijah talk with Jesus, they are talking about his departure, his death. Jesus has already spoken about the necessity of his death and shortly after this passage the gospel will refer to Jesus’ determination to go to Jerusalem.

But even as the transfiguration anticipates the death of Jesus, it also hints that death will not be the final word of this story. The dominant sense of this passage, after all, is one of glory, a glory that will most appropriately be given to the resurrected Christ.

Up on the mountaintop the disciples are face to face with the Holy. Face to face with mortality. Face to face with transformation of the world as they had known it. Face to face with their own new exodus. Face to face with the mysterium tremendum. Mysterium tremendum — literally the tremendous mystery — the awesomeness, awe-inspiring, fearfulness, incredible power of God. The face of God that we are hesitant to name — that face of God we do not nor will ever really be able to understand fully. That face of God that can and should sometimes make us afraid — not in a bad sense but in a sense of honest awe.

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We stand at the top of a mountain this morning. Actually, we should feel as though we stand at the top of a mountain every time we gather to celebrate the eucharist. Every time we come together, we risk being transformed in deep ways. Every time we come togther, we go a bit further on our exodus as a prophetic community, grounded in history and tradition and faith. The eucharist is our reminder of all these things.

Even though we are not having one this morning as is fitting for this feast day, baptisms are also one of those transcendent moments when heaven and earth seem to come close and touch one another, when the veil between heaven and earth seems permeable (sort of how I think it must be on top of Mount Everest) and we can cross from here to there. Baptism is one of those moments when sometimes the only response of which we are capable is to cry holy tears because our souls are touched so deeply. Baptism is the moment at which each one of us was launched on our own exodus journey in the midst of the community, a journey that will ultimately lead us home, too. Most wonderfully, through baptism we have been marked and sealed as Christ’s own forever.

We know, however, that we cannot stay up on the mountaintop. Jesus did not let the disciples stay up there; nor should we want to stay there. We are about to come down the mountaintop to resume our exodus — the exodus that is our mortal life journey, marked by moments of the holy.

Along the way, our lives are transformed. Through the waters of baptism we come face to face with the mysterium tremendum. We come face to face to God through the three-fold splash of water and oil cross marked on our forehead at that moment of baptism. Through baptism, we became prophets — prophets of a new age and a new way of living. We are mouthpieces of the wondrous in-breaking of God’s realm in our time.

So let us come down off the mountaintop, knowing that God walks with us in the valleys, too. And let us risk having our lives touched and transformed once again as we continue our faith journey.

The Pinochet Files ctd

Under pressure from President Bush, House Democrats on Saturday grudgingly prepared to move ahead with approving changes in a terrorist surveillance program despite serious reservations about the scope of the measure. With time running out before a scheduled monthlong break and the Senate already in recess, House Democrats confronted the choice of accepting the administration’s bill or letting it die. If it died, that would leave Democratic lawmakers, who have long been anxious about appearing weak on national security issues, facing an August fending off charges from Mr. Bush and Republicans that they left Americans exposed to terror threats.

Breaking News 22.21: House Approves Changes in Terrorist Surveillance Program

The House handed President Bush a victory Saturday, voting to expand the government's abilities to eavesdrop without warrants on foreign suspects whose communications pass through the United States.

The 227-183 vote, which followed the Senate's approval Friday, sends the bill to Bush for his signature. He had urged Congress to approve it, saying Saturday, ''Protecting America is our most solemn obligation.''

The administration said the measure is needed to speed the National Security Agency's ability to intercept phone calls, e-mails and other communications involving foreign nationals ''reasonably believed to be outside the United States.'' Civil liberties groups and many Democrats said it goes too far, possibly enabling the government to wiretap U.S. residents communicating with overseas parties without adequate oversight from courts or Congress.

[from the New York Times]

There's a word that in order to maintain my PG status I won't utter but it's clear what I think. Basura.

Once again they caved into fear mongering. Lord Voldermort won again.

It just gets worse and worse. I am disgusted and angry.

Tonight's small harvest

Here's what I gathered from the garden this evening: first potatoes of the season (very early because I planted them back in May before leaving on the Camino), some tired peppers (it has been a poor season for them), a few wax beans (equally poor season), some parsley (never a poor season), two yellow tomatoes to ripen indoors, and some blackberries, the first of the season, and first I have ever picked here in 13 years.

Though I have pretty much sworn off potatoes because they are carbs, I still love them, and there's nothing better than a freshly dug-up potato. It's like having soufflé with a slightly peaty flavour.

I have more than enough food to eat right now and I wish I could eat it all at every meal: swiss chard, radishes, lettuce, burgundy beans (they are purple when picked but turn green when steamed), snap peas — all from other people's gardens. Then there are blackberries that are just coming out as well as blueberries.

In summer, it's not hard to 'eat locally.' Winter is a whole other story.

Forward movement

Sometimes it is so satisfying simply to get some maintenance things done around the church. Dealing with the programmatic pieces is wonderful but seeing results often takes so much longer. But being able to tick off a list of maintenance things, like replacing the rectory refrigerator, or getting an airconditioner for the downstairs room that gets mildewy in the summer is so good.

Three volunteers and I have been working on painting the inside of the parish house. Two worked yesterday and got the first coat of paint, a wonderful warm yellow that replaces a cold light blue, down in the main room of the parish house: what you see is basically it — there's my office to the side, a small office off to the side of the kitchen pass-through, the kitchen and two small bathrooms (one is universally accessible).

Today one put down the second coat in the parish house, one worked on the window trim and two of us worked on the bathrooms. I am so pleased with the new colour. It is such a vast improvement over the previous one (I had no input on its selection; I came back from El Salvador or vacation to find it... to my dismay).

Next, we will replace the 20 year-old (or more) drapery and try to spiff up the room, though it is a 50 year-old building that gets very hard use from the nursery school the parish supports.

However, having a bright, clean set of walls is a good start.

Serendipity

The local university is the orientation site for international students coming to spend a year in the United States. For two weeks, the town sees high school (17-18 year-olds) students wandering around in huge groups — huge groups because there's so little for them to see in town. At the end of their two-week orientation, the university gives them a fireworks display.

Even though the cats hate all the booms, I love fireworks and will stop what I am doing and go outside to watch.

Tonight was no different. I didn't have time to get over to the football field where I could have had an uninterrupted view, but by standing on the church drivevway and looking through a space between the trees across the way, I could see them clearly.

As I stood there, a couple came by and I greeted them. They asked why there were fireworks and I explained. We started chatting, I found out that they are from Canada, so we talked about their city (I have been there and love it), and they are originally from Russia. In time, as they asked about the church's history, I invited them to stop by tomorrow to see the inside (Mr seemed interested in the organ which is an 1832 tracker organ from Boston). He demurred, saying they are Jewish and cannot go into a place where there are 'images.' I said Oh shabbat shalom, and they greeted me back, glad for it.

That led into a long conversation about Christianity, Judaism, basic beliefs (they had heard in synagogue a recent sermon on the Shema, Deuteronomy 6.4, Love God, love your neighbour and really liked it), we talked about humankind created in God's image, how animals don't have a nephesh (loosely translated as 'soul' in English but really untranslatable in Hebrew), good and evil and so forth — some real easy theological themes to accompany fireworks.

For half an hour, the duration of the fireworks display, we talked.

And when it all ended with a wonderful grand finale, we shook hands, exchanged first names, wished each a gentle evening and then went our separate ways.

It was one of those moments of synchronicity, but one for which I am glad and enrichened.

Friday cat blogging

It is way too hot for any of us to do much and the cats demonstrate their unhappiness.

Young Guy sprawls on the upstairs hall floor while La Doyenne sits on the Iranian rug by the bed; Orange Guy for some reason is curled up on a fleece donut, though later, he was spread out.

Orange Guy and La Doyenne remain in the bedroom.

And for some fun, here are two of my sister's four.

Dim Recollection

Four years ago at this time, General Convention of The Episcopal Church was meeting in Minneapolis. Perhaps since I spent ten days there, I have been thinking about the bridge collapse.

Out of the mists of memory comes another one from my years when I lived in Princeton, NJ. If I wanted to, I could pinpoint the date when this event happened but it's not really important. It was sometime in the late-1980s.

The Harrison Street Bridge is one of the two major bridges out of Princeton to Rte 1 and beyond. Lake Carnegie flows under it and if you row/scull (as I did while a grad student at Princeton University), you go under the bridge. The photo (from the Princeton Historical Society) shows the old bridge that lasted until it was replaced.

One morning in the late-1980s, we woke up to the news that that half-constructed Harrison Street Bridge replacement had collapsed into the lake. Evidently, it was not built to withstand the heavy equipment that was parked out there (a huge crane, dump trucks, front end loaders and such).

I remember a contemporaneous Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, with Calvin asking his parents why does a bridge collapse? His father answered: They keep putting stuff on it until they find out it can't handle it any more.

I am not trying to be funny or irreverent. I couldn't help but be struck by seeing the number of dump trucks out on the I-35 bridge and wonder if their collective weight also contributed to the collapse (what do I know?) — seeing them is what triggered the memory.

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May the souls of the departed — found and not yet found — rest in peace.
God protect the responders.
God accompany those who mourn.

On the local front

Needless to say, with all that is happening in the world, this is small potatoes. But on a local scene, it is distressing. Even if we recognise that nature comes first and it is an artificial pond, it is still disturbing to watch a beaver do what it is genetically programmed to do: chew down trees.

This beautiful birch tree was still standing last night. This morning at breakfast, one of our guests said that there had been destruction overnight and that there now was a tree lying in the pond. So after our guests left, I went down to the pond and there was one of Compa's favourite birches felled by the beaver. Also missing were two birches from the spit that sticks into the pond.

Here's another view of the birch tree, from the butt end. Its leaves are lying in the pond.

I thought this crabapple was going to escape chomping but it has not been spared. Once the critter has finished chomping down all the surrounding birches, it will fell this tree too and then there will be no trees near the pond.

This is blurry but here is the culprit, a young beaver, swimming around in our pond.

And here is its lodge, made from the trees that it has destroyed.

From the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Minnesota

Statement from the Right Rev. James L. Jelinek

Regarding the I-35W Bridge Collapse

On behalf of the Diocese of Minnesota, we offer our prayers to all who are affected by the devastating bridge collapse in Minneapolis yesterday. The University Episcopal Center is about a half mile away from the site, and, to our knowledge, all are fine.

The prayers and well wishes have been streaming in overnight from across the country. People are checking in with one another - quick emails that say "you ok?" and "we're fine" are filling the airwaves. We will keep all posted with any news we receive regarding people we know and love who were victims or witnesses in any way. We've had many questions asking, "What can we do?" For now, we'll let the emergency personnel do their work and let them tell us what might be helpful when they are ready. But we can do what we do best - pray.

We pray for those who have died, may their souls and the souls of all the departed rest in peace.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those who may still be trapped, those who are injured, and for those whose loved ones have not yet been accounted for. We pray for perseverance, and strength, and hope.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those whose vocation serves the common good; for first responders, search and rescue, fire fighters, police officers, paramedics, for those who work in hospitals and blood banks; the newsrooms and media centers; for places of prayer- our churches and temples and mosques and our homes.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for those in leadership; for our governor and mayors, for state and federal agencies, and for coordination of services in the immediate and distant future.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for ourselves and our children. Calm our fears, comfort our sorrow, and guide our response. Set us at the difficult task of studying and rebuilding for the future. Grant us patience in the days ahead.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

O Lord, mercifully receive the prayers of your people who call upon you, and grant that they may know and understand what things they ought to do, and they also have grace and power faithfully to accomplish them; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God now and for ever. Amen.

Adapted from the Book of Common Prayer

One joy of summer

A big bowl of fresh summer fruit...

strawberries from Canada
fresh-picked raspberries and blueberries
a peach from Pennsylvania
banana from God knows where
nothing that tastes like cardboard

How can you go wrong with a breakfast like this?

Life is good!

Watching and Waiting

Grand-mère Mimi speculates whether Alberto Gonzalez will be history soon. To quote her: As I said before, Gonzales is the boy with his finger in the dike. If he goes, the entire edifice could begin to erode.

Rather than try to describe it, here's the Jeff Danziger cartoon from 28 July.

Poor Oscar.

The battle of the lawn

The church property takes up an entire block, the equivalent of three or four quarter-acre lots. Most lawn mowing happens on a volunteer basis, which means when people can do it. It takes a good three hours plus to do all of the property, from one street to the other, in between the church, parish house and rectory, and behind the rectory. (The back edge of the property is anything but a straight line; it tacks its way down from one street to the other.) Volunteers start with the easy, flat part, the front half of the side yard to the rectory, then work their way across the front of the parish house and church (less easy because it is on a hillside), then go behind the rectory to the nursery school play yard and by then have pooped out.

That means that the back half of the rectory yard turns into a meadow. And that means that at least once or twice a summer I get out there in knee-high grass with a simple lawn mower and try to tame it. 'Mowing the lawn' this way is anything but easy. It's a lot of yanking the mower front and backwards. Doing the front and back yards of the rectory took me four hours total, yesterday and today. But at least once again, there is the semblance of a lawn and not a meadow.

I took this shot today after I finished. The overgrown area is the garden. That's the next task. The nursery school play yard is to the right; the shed behind it belongs to the neighbours. The big maple tree is on our property; the scraggly tree on theirs. You can make out the church tower between the rectory and the maple.

Having worked on the church lawns today, tomorrow I go to our house and do the same thing all over again — deal with knee-high grass and, worse, on an uneven lawn (full of frost-heave rocks and tree stumps). Thank God for my iPod — at least I have good tunes.

Here's an assortment of some of the tunes I heard today while mowing (in a play list called Beat Music):

Laurie Anderson • Strange Angels (Strange Angels)
Michael McDonald • Sweet Freedom (Michael McDonald)
James Taylor • Only a Dream in Rio (James Taylor Best)
The Strawbs • Simple Visions (Deep Cut)
Steve Winwood • When You See a Change (Arc of a Diver)
Alain Souchon • Manivelle (Collection)
Exchange • Compass Rose (In a Changing World)
Supertramp • It's Raining Again (Classics)
Yazoo • Bring Your Love Down (Upstairs at Eric's)
Tracy Chapman • I Used To Be a Sailor (Matters of the Heart)

Proper 12C

This past year, at the end of youth group meetings, we have stood in a circle, held hands, gone around offering up intercessory prayers and thanksgivings either silently or aloud and then said the Lord’s Prayer. One of the youth comes from a background where this prayer has not been a staple of his life and, so, in order to include him, we’ve prayed the prayer line-by-line (the way Episcopal congregations used to in the 1850s at the end of the service). The adults have encouraged the youth to lead this line-by-line recitation, figuring that the prayer indwells them.

Somehow, when we say it either alone or all together, it hangs together but a funny thing happens when having to break it down line by line. Even though this prayer is deeply internalised, the rhythm of its cadences falls apart. Some leaders can get up to the ‘trespasses’ part; others make it a bit further. We look at one another and, as the designated pray-er, I pick up the pieces by prompting and off we go again. Despite the burp, all is well. We have prayed the prayer that unites us all and then we say goodnight.

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What is it about the Lord’s Prayer? Of all the things Jesus is reported to have said in the gospels, why has this prayer emerged as probably the first prayer any of us memorised, and remains as the prayer that will remain in our minds even as our memories fail? Why is it that the prayer retains its compelling rhythm whether in its original Aramaic, ‘Abun, d’b’ shemaya,’ or Spanish, ‘Padre Nuestro que estás en el cielo,’ or English, ‘Our Father in heaven’? How is it that even as two or three people pray the prayer in different languages, they end up together at the ‘Amen’? The Lord’s Prayer is powerful, indeed. Powerful because it establishes a close relationship between God and us, and reminds us of our interconnectedness and interdependency.

Jesus’ instruction that contains the words of the Lord’s Prayer comes at the end of a series of instructions that deal with discipleship. The story of the Good Samaritan, which we heard two weeks ago, reminds us of the Great Commandment — love of God and love of neighbour. Last week’s story of Martha and Mary, encourages us to find a balance in our lives between service and prayer, doing and being. Now, at disciples’ request, Jesus instructs them how to pray. Of the two versions we have of the Lord’s Prayer — one in Matthew, and one in Luke — the Lukan version is the less familiar. Yet all the essential ingredients to this well-known prayer are here.

By giving this prayer to the disciples, Jesus endorses the communal and liturgical function of the prayer. It is important to have a prayer that everyone can say together, at the same time. Less important are the exact words of the prayer — what matter are its themes. Most important is the emphasis of the prayer on the community’s relationship with God and how the community comes to God.

Above all, the Lord’s Prayer is a ‘we’ prayer, a community prayer. No matter how dear this prayer is to you personally it is primarily the prayer of the community of God’s Reign. “Our” father, we pray. Give “us” the bread we need. Forgive “us” our sins, as “we” forgive others…. Save “us” in the time of trial.

As a community, as the people of God, we pray for the coming of God’s reign of peace and of justice, we pray for the daily needs of everyone, we pray for forgiveness for us as a community, with the call to be an example of a reconciling people, and we pray that as God’s people we will not crumble in the face of trials too harsh to name.

That’s the Lord’s Prayer in overview, but looked at more closely, these themes play themselves out over and over again.

The prayer begins with an address to God — in Aramaic, ‘Abun’, ‘Father.’ The community recognises from the beginning of the prayer its intimacy with God. Underlying our calling God, ‘Father,’ is the trust that there is a shared and deep relationship, a relationship in which we may be free to ask of God God’s care.

The first line, after the opening address, is a simple statement: Holy be your name. This line picks up on the emphasis of the Great Commandment about honouring and loving God with our all heart, mind, soul and strength. Even though we call God by a loving, intimate term, we also respect God as the one who created us, sanctifies us and redeems us.
The next line also states clearly our hopes: Your kingdom come. Luke’s gospel talks a lot about the coming of God’s realm; in this statement, we pray that God will, indeed, come into our midst, bringing justice, love and righteousness. It is our prayer of hope, a hope which is based on trust.

Having called God by one of the many names we use for God, the prayer moves onto its first request. The request is simple: Give us our daily bread. Whether the bread asked for in this request is the real loaf of bread that one eats every day, or the bread of the heavenly banquet that will be provided when God’s realm comes, matters little — the fundamental idea is clear: we recognise with gratitude that God provides for us.

The second request of the prayer is equally clear: Forgive us our debts. Forgive our sins. And know that as we ask to be forgiven, that we stand ready to extend forgiveness. As we ask for and offer forgiveness, we show ourselves to be a community of compassion. As a community of compassion, touched by God’s forgiveness, we are better able to love our neighbour.

The final petition of the prayer asks for spiritual protection. Though we may consciously live out our lives in Christian community, there may well be times that we fall. The petition does not presume that God will prevent us from falling into sin — we get ourselves into our own messes — but it does ask that we not be overwhelmed by whatever wrongdoing we have done. A community praying this petition acknowledges its interconnectedness and dependence upon God.

And then, we say, Amen. Writes Leonardo Boff, ‘Being able to say amen implies being able to trust and be confident and certain that everything is in the hands of God: God has already conquered mistrust and fear, despite everything. The Lord’s Prayer has encompassed the whole path of humanity in its drive toward heaven and its rootage in the earth.… And to all of it, we say, “Yes, so be it!”’

So be it. So be it that we pray this prayer every time we gather as a worshipping community — whether it be for a baptism or a burial; a marriage or confession; the daily office or the eucharist. So be it that we pray this prayer together and individually, young and old, rich and poor. No matter how we pray it, no matter where or when we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we are together, as a community of faith, praying the same words that were given us so long ago, words that unite us on our common journey to God’s realm of justice and peace.

[photo: The Lord's Prayer in Arabic on a plate, made in Palestine]

Not really a surprise

You scored as Albus Dumbledore, Strong and powerful you admirably defend your world and your charges against those who would seek to harm them. However sometimes you can fail to do what you must because you care too much to cause suffering. Albus Dumbledore 80% Hermione Granger 75% Harry Potter 70% Sirius Black 65% Remus Lupin 60% Draco Malfoy 55% Ron Weasley 45% Severus Snape 35% Ginny Weasley 30% Lord Voldemort 15% Your Harry Potter Alter Ego Is...? created with QuizFarm.com

[For some reason the text doesn't show up completely so here it is again:
You scored as Albus Dumbledore, Strong and powerful you admirably defend your world and your charges against those who would seek to harm them. However sometimes you can fail to do what you must because you care too much to cause suffering.]

I mean, really, who is going to admit to being Snape? I've got to figure out where the 15% of Voldemort comes from :)

All my life's a circle

This afternoon I went to a celebration of a new season of ministry (at Rev Dr Mom's home church), which meant a 50-mile drive up north on a rather unpredictable day weather-wise (like torrential rain outside of Montpelier for five minutes and dry all the rest of the way). To go anywhere in Vermont, it is at least a 50-mile round-trip. But, as my friend (who was the preacher) said: You live in such a beautiful state.

I don't know why, but I have always been amused by playing number games on the odometer. So today, I had to record when it hit 87878. I can't even remember how many cars I have had that have gone over 100K. Only my first car was new; the rest have been used. [You can't really see the numerals; trust me.]

Heading west and south on I-89, past the Richmond exit, one sees Camel's Hump. It was pretty hazy today.

In case you are worried about the safety of these photos, I point and shoot without even looking and don't even check until I have gotten home. And in the first, one hand is squarely on the wheel; in the second, both hands are on the wheel with the camera in between them.

Friday cat blogging

La Doyenne is sleeping where I usually sit and read after dinner.

While the new refrigerator was being delivered, I shut the cats upstairs. I don't think I have seen Orange Boy in the basket before. Everybody is sleeping in odd places.

Young Guy decides the new air conditioner is OK.

Orange Boy decided to drape himself across the fleece pad and donut.

My parents' cat, more like my father's cat, whom I am calling Miss Mattie because of her matted fur. Her mother was a Maine Coon cat, and her father an orange tabby. She is now 17 1/2.

Miss Mattie on my mother's bed.

The beach fix

My parents joined a modest beach club in 1957 and have been members ever since. Every time I visit, I want my beach fix because I know my days at this beach are numbered. My parents are now of the senior generation, occupying a place that some younger families covet. So I like to go to the beach, as bittersweet as these visits now are.

There are canopies which one can reserve. As kids, we used to shimmy up them and also swing from the horizontal bars in the fall when the canvas tops had been removed.

The view is of the Long Island Sound, looking across to Port Jefferson. One can barely make out the lighthouse (just above the orange and yellow sail). Off to the right is a huge barge that sits out in the Sound all summer.


This is the main house with a big central room and porch. I don't know what the rules are now, but when I was growing up, kids under 12 (?) were not allowed on the porch and you couldn't walk barefoot through the main room.


There are two jetties that are at the far end of the half mile beach. This is the first of the two. Beyond them, there's the reef (the reason for which there is a lighthouse).


This view almost looks as though it could be taken on the Côte d'Azur, the French Mediterranean. But, no, it's just the Long Island Sound.

For Pseudopiskie

Pseudopiskie writes about the deer and raccoons and other critters that disturb the lilies and bird feeders.

While at my parents' house in suburban Connecticut, I was treated to the daily procession of deer that raid the apple trees. Actually, the deer are in cohoots with the squirrels. The squirrels climb up the apple tree branches and knock the apples off. The deer come along and chomp up all the apples. My mother is having fits because she doesn't think there aren't going to be any apples left for the fall.

Later, I will scan a photo she took in the backyard of a male turkey in full display.