I found this quite funny.
At almost every wedding (where a dance floor is part of the festivities) people hear from wine like this.
(and not just at weddings!)
Tag: people
The Religion of Liberation
The Jewish people have a big event, a central story, that encapsulates what the Jewish (and Judeo-Christian) faith is about:
Crossing a sea: Crossing from slavery to LIBERATION
“Let my people go!”
This is the cry of (the Jewish) God, the Living God, through Moses; and it’s really the cry of freedom in every human heart.
So what do we want to be liberated from?
Oppression.
Yes, of course.
…and oppression takes many forms.
But, we tend to also want liberation from authority…and that’s not what God has in mind. That misses the mark and produces precarious results.
In fact, the best liberation we can have is one that happens internally.
Our heart is liberated from sin and death and then we receive peace and life.
This is no marginal quality of our faith tradition. Liberation is found not in fleeing something (or someone) but in returning.
A homecoming. A reception by the Father for the children he loves.
Liberation must always be about fleeing to someone (the One).
…and that someone isn’t just another warden in a different prison, but One who wants our peace to be fully realized.
It’s about community identity and belonging.
Each brings freedom and saves us from ourselves.
Sometimes we suppose liberation means freedom to act autonomously and unilaterally for our own interests.
True liberation is the antithesis of that.
When I consider, in this very moment, what I hope to be liberated from in my own life, it seems to concern being free from believing lies. Lies about myself, others, and any sorts of ignoble things that imprison my future in a jailhouse of smallness.
A confined place that is missing the grandeur of what it means to be a sentient being enjoying the majesty of creation that a benevolent incomprehendable Being has fashioned.
On Public Showering: The Accidental Peep Show
I’m jumping ahead on Funny Fridays, today.
This true story happened a few weeks ago, and it just occurred to me that it makes an amusing tale…so here goes. Why not?
If you follow this blog, you know that I got a new part-time job this summer at a winery. I manage the Tasting Room once or twice a week. It’s been a hectic summer and I worked a bunch of my weekends solid, including missing 9 Sundays of church in a row–A first in nearly two decades. More on that another time.
This is part cautionary tale and part embarrassing antic.
BACKSTORY:
So, I’m commuting 52 miles each way and working a bunch of days back-to-back and it dawns on me, finally, to ask my relatives if I can crash at their home which is only 12 minutes away. Instead of getting home at 11:30-midnight and fitfully sleeping for 5-6 hours and driving back again 52 miles for a hour meeting, this will make everything far better.
They graciously agree, but in the process of making plans, I forget that they will actually be away during that time. But, it’s no matter to them, they extend the offer and I’m grateful for it.
ARRIVAL:
It’s dark and I use my phone as a flashlight to enter their house and the cat is none too pleased. After hissing and keeping her ears back, I greet her.
“Hi, puppy. What’s wrong?” She doesn’t think it’s funny and she disappears for the rest of my stay.
SHOWER SCENE:
I’m achy, stinky, and ready for a shower and bed, so I head upstairs. I’m brushing my teeth and getting my things prepared when I realize a bit of horror…
The window is a big one, and just a sheer curtain separates me from the rest of the neighborhood.
Um, what?
I’m on a second story stage. All light is on me. I’m about to disrobe.
Have they not realized this is optical insanity?
I suppose plenty of people never realize that if one’s house is lit and it’s dark outside, one’s rooms are on display fully. Hum. Saying “one’s” make this seem very Victorian. That’s not the vibe I was going for.
Anyhow…At night, a lit bathroom it turns into like something you would find in a red light district.
Gulp.
If I went outside buck (or doe) naked, I would have more cover than this. I look like the main event, right now.
I imagine hearing slinky music start and then abruptly shaggy men near the street start grumbling and folding up their chairs.
Boo!
Where’s the regular?
We want silver fox!
Then, I blanch as I realize who might spend occasional weekends here, no doubt showering unaware. Oh God, why!
I fight off the urge to send a quick text and have a small vomit burp.
All I have to do is get a shower and get to bed. Stay focused.
ACTION PLAN:
There’s nothing to block the window. Finally, I decide to get undressed with the light off. Dark inside + dark outside = privacy, after all. That’s my plan.
Then, I think of the cat having a good laugh at my expense.
I’ll pretend I’m Hellen Keller. No she was deaf and blind. I think I’d just do a sponge bath if that were the case. No, I’m Mary Ingalls. I can hear Laura and Pa in the next room. The cat is whispering and making them laugh.
Perfect. Sort of.
Oh no, how will I navigate everything when I get out without getting water everywhere, or killing myself?
Wow, it’s dark in here! What a pain! Good, god, I’ll have to tell my daughter it’s a tricky business here.
After I step into the shower I reach out and flip the light back on.
(I can’t do the entire cleaning process blind. I don’t have the skills.)
All this thinking after a long day of work. It’s no match for me.
I deliberate behind the curtain…which I’m discovering is also rather sheer.
IS this all purposeful?
Do they have a web cam in here, or what?
Is this how they plan to save for retirement? Interesting.
Nightly Showers for Harrisburg’s viewing pleasure.
(Gracious tips are appreciated. Give them to the smirking cat.)
Gross! I’m in a freakin’ fish bowl here.
That notion will be hard to scrub from my brain as I try to sleep, won’t it now? I think.
I finish up, flip the light back off before I step out. Careful. Easy. I could twist an ankle.
This will be a fine mess if I fall and need an ambulance, yes? Curses.
[Day dream sequence: Queue harp music.]
Why is it dark in here, ‘mam?
-Well, I’m not fond of starring in peep shows and I fell. Oh, gosh. Can you turn the light back off?
Sorry no. We can’t see. Oh, look, a crowd is gathering down there. Where you yelling for help?
-No. I think they’re regulars.
Huh?
[End day dream sequence]
I towel off as best as I can and sneak for my room. Oh, brother. It’s facing the same way. Big window. Again.
Lucky me, a slightly less sheer curtain blocks it. I guess. A little.
NICE! Grrrr.
So, now I crouch down and get dressed. I flick the bedside lamp on. This will have to do.
Exhausted, I collapse into bed.
Modesty is something I need for me, not for other people, I suppose. At my age, I’ll attract gawkers, and hardly more. And maybe it’s doubtful anyone was watching. But, who knows…the whole experience was…memorable.
THE TAKEAWAY
If it’s lit in your house, and dark outside, be prepared to be a viewable object, like it or not.
It’s just simple optics.
Go ahead, grab a helper and do an experiment…keep your clothes on.
You’ll see what I mean.
The Myth about Roots.
My dad told me that trees have roots that go down as far as the tree is tall. That was an impressive statement and it stuck with me for a long time.
It was, of course, untrue.
He didn’t know much about trees. He was, by his own admission, a “city boy”.
I don’t blame him; lots of people think tree roots go deep.
They don’t.
Any photo of a knocked down tree makes it clear.
See? Roots go out not down.
(The mistake about roots becomes pointedly obvious.)
Tree roots reach out, not down.
Roots aren’t so much much like anchors hold the tree to the ground, but rather more like feet planted in the soil, in all directions, to create stability and nourishment. They can extend nearly as long as a tree is tall.
The California Redwoods seem even more impressive now, don’t they?
Forests are interconnected places where trees stretch out their roots and touch the other trees nearby, below the surface.
A web of root holds a forrest together as if the trees are playing a long game of forest footsie.
The takeaway:
Like the myth of tree roots, the roots of community don’t go down either–in ideal circumstances. Instead, they go out, or the forest dies.
On Sunday, I’ll go back to church for the first time in 2 months. My work schedule has kept me away, but I’m happy to go back and remember everything I need to remember all over again:
• Who I am in God, in community, and in the scope of human history and the Church worldwide and over the course of eons.
Maybe I’ll learn something new about me, or about church (God’s people), or about what sacred ritual does for me.
I haven’t been separated from this weekly occurrence (for this long) in over 20 years. I’m wondering what it’ll be like to go back. (The next post -or a short series- will get into that.)
My thoughts are forming like questions:
• Will I sense the roots of others stretching out to meet me?
• Will my absence have been noticed at all?
(If a tree falls in a forest…er, um, never mind.)
• Will everything be the same or nothing, or will I be the only one who has changed?
• Will I realize how much I’ve missed it, or be surprised that it hasn’t mattered like I thought it would or should?
• Am I really part of a forest, or am I more like a lone tree on a hill?
Whatever happens, I want to be the tree that stretches out into the stream, into the living water, for nourishment and life.
Jeremiah17:7-8
“Blessed is the [one] who trusts in the LORD And whose trust is the LORD. “For [s]he will be like a tree planted by the water, That extends its roots by a stream And will not fear when the heat comes; But its leaves will be green, And it will not be anxious in a year of drought Nor cease to yield fruit.
Dispatch from Prison: The Question I Couldn’t Answer
“Why don’t people from your church come and help you here? It says it the Bible to visit us…”
A man asked me this question at the end of class.
He was an inmate: a lifer.
Prison is a place of lasting aloneness. A place where you are reminded that you are forgotten.
Trying to overcome it is a big deal.
Volunteer groups are cherished by inmates like fresh air. They thank us each time we come.
I didn’t know how to answer him. I sort of felt crushed.
Not just that he would ask, but that the truth was so simple and unreachable.
He suggested I speak to my church and invite them to participate. I already had.
“It does say that is the Bible. You’re right. I don’t know….
I’m sorry,” I told him.
“What keeps them from coming?” another man asked.
“Maybe because all people know about prison is what they see in movies. Maybe they are afraid.” I said.
That comment incited and 3 page letter the prisoner brought back the next week to help convince people from our church that they were not violent and they were also Christians who love the Lord, were re-paying their debt to society, and wanted the support and Christian brotherhood.
But, nothing like that can be taken out of a prison. (It’s a felony.) He had to keep his correspondence. I thought he was going to cry when he explained that he needed to keep what he wrote. Abandonment? That was probably what I was on his face.
It’s heartbreaking.
But, I also wondered if some of the reasons were really a greater indictment on Christians and human nature.
• Laziness
• Lack of compassion
• Self-centeredness
• Distain for outcasts
Could this be it?
If I asked people from my church, face-to-face this time, what keeps them from being involved, they might say,
“I’m just too busy.”
Or “I’m not really interested in that (in them).”
Or, “I don’t like criminals. They deserve to be where they are and we shouldn’t make things easier for them.”
or maybe,
“I’d rather be doing two million different things than that!”
And whatever the reasons, good or not, they hamper the work of Love.