Odd Man (sic?) Out Again

As it goes on the web, one thing led to another until I was taking a survey comparing myself to other Americans on religious measures. (If you want to join the fun go to the bottom of the page at The Association or Religion Data Archives).

The result that most caught my attention came from the question asking if I think God is a he. Of course I said (any guesses....?) that I strongly disagree. Hope I didn't shock too many of you too badly.

What surprised me was how many women matching my age group, education level and who identified as Protestant differ in perspective from me.

• Those who disagree (7%) or strongly disagree (15%) that God is a he total 22%.
• Those undecided are 26%.
• Those who agree or strongly agree that God is a he total 52%

That got me to wondering about those of the same demographic but of no religion. On this measure I'd fit in better there.

• Those who don't think God is a he are 67%.
• Undecided 21%.
• Those who think God is a he are 12%

I'm tempted to make so much more comment on this.....but I'm afraid to do it here in such a one way form of potentially public communication...too much potential for button pushing and misunderstanding.

Want to talk further? Let me know. This and so many other topics of even greater importance deserve open honest conversation that they too rarely get.

A Banner Day

Today, through various means, initially including what appears to be a chance circumstance, I found two poems that made a significant impression on me way back in high school, that I haven't known where to find, and lyrics to a song that I find quite intriguing.

If you're interested or care to indulge me, they are:

William Carlos Williams, "The Red Wheelbarrow"

Countee Cullen, "Any Human to Another"

Dar Williams, "The Christians and the Pagans"

Isolation

Yesterday I was recognized for a mile mark in years of service with my current employer. Wow - I've known some of the people I work with for a long time! Even some of the co-workers who I've only known for a short part of my tenure are people with whom I've spent many many hours. And I think I spend more time in the room in which I work at my paid job than I spend in any other space than my bed.

In contrast, I spend little bits of time with parents, children and others at church. (Not to mention my limited time with my own family, but thats a separate topic, sort of.) I experience increasingly good connections in those times. But they seem so limited and undeveloped. I want so much more.

I want to quit my job and study theology, work out a whole bunch of ideas I have for children's and family ministry at church, and connect with other parents and ministers and people of my faith and of other faiths and of no faith at all. I want to engage in all sorts of this kind of endeavor. I want to be able to dedicate time to this - without stealing it from so many other parts of my life and I want to be able to dedicate enough time to this to make more than the little bit of slow progress I seem to be able to make.

But even if I quit my job to do that (which I don't really consider a viable option, just a dream), would it really work? Where are the people to connect with? I'm an introvert, so I can sit here at my computer or go over to church and have a good time doing all kinds of projects all by myself. But in the end, much of my goal is to have something together as a community. And how can I have or develop that community based on the little snatches of time that myself or any of the rest of us can muster to spend time connecting in one form or the other?

Some good things are happening and I guess I just have to keep at it....keep building on those...and I plan to....but right now I'm impatient, frustrated, discouraged, questioning.

Anybody have any perspective? The same or different?

Ashes

What if instead of a priest giving us all ashes, we gave them to each other?
What if we shared them as paritioners one to another?
What if we were given our ashes by the people closest to us? By the oldest or youngest in our family?
What if we were to impose ashes on those closest to us?
What if we shared the ashes as neighbors or friends?
What if ashes were shared among strangers on the bus?

We are all dust and to dust we shall return.

Do You Hate Lent?

Are you familiar with the perspective of church as a judgemental, condemning place where one is coerced into submission to perscribed beliefs and obligations (or guilt for not submitting)?

In contrast, this year as Lent starts I'm thinking about faith and church as providing a safe place to admit struggles, sins and shortcomings. The degree to which that ideal is realized of course varies. But I think the degree to which I'm able to make those admissions is largely based in my faith. And I think I need to let my faith help me make more of those admissions.

It's not about condemnation or self abasement. It's not about taking on undue guilt of one form or the other. It's not about an emphasis on the negative.

It's about being able to stop being defensive. It's about being able to be honest. It's about being able to let go. It's about the liberation and life that can enter oneself and one's relationships when we're able to admit our role in problems and conflicts instead of building up walls of defense from which we throw grenades of blame.

It becomes about living the liturgy in daily life.

• What if I asked my spouse to remind me through Lent that we are dust and to dust we will return?
• What if in the midst of an arguement I set aside blaming the other (even if they are to blame for something) and admitted my role in the problem?
• What if we regularly exhanged peace at home?
• What if we understood our dinner table as a place to seek and identify with Jesus, the meanings of his life, death, resurrection and the Spirit in and surrounding us?
• Would we go in peace to love and serve? By the time Easter comes, would we find ourselves rejoicing in the power of the Spirit?