A Tale of Travel Woe

Last week we traveled to Greenville, SC to visit with Josh's family for Christmas. Since I work all day on Christmas Eve and since, in general, travel on Christmas day is never very busy, we decided to book a flight to arrive in time for Josh's family reunion and dinner. For once, we were going to be with family on a major Christian holiday. Yeah...or so we thought.

In order to make it there in time for the noon meal, we had to leave at the god-awful hour of 6 am...meaning leaving the house by 4 am, meaning getting up at 3 am. Yet, the promise of a real Christmas family dinner was enough to lure me out of bed with only 3 hours of sleep.

We arrived at the airport in plenty of time. In fact, we were the first people there. As we sat down, we noticed that not only was the plane already there, ready to go, but the entire crew was waiting at the gate to get in. This had to be a good sign! We waited and waited and waited. Looking at our watch we realized it was past time to board....hmmm....the plane is here, the crew is here, what could be the problem? It was then we heard the voice on the intercom, echoing down the corridor from the flight scheduled to leave at the same time as ours...

"Ladies and gentelmen, may I please have your attention Flight Whatever to Wherever will be boarding late. Northwest has a shortage of gate agents this morning since many called in sick. I am the only gate agent available which means I will not be able to assist you with any needs other than boarding you. I am sorry for the inconvenience."

No gate agents? Apparently, everyone from Northwest called in sick so that they could go to their family Christmas dinner, leaving stranded passengers to fend for themselves. With no one else available to open the !?&@ing door, we had to wait until the other flight left before the crew could even board and ready the craft for flight. After finally boarding at ten to seven, I looked out my window to see that the luggage was just now being brought out to the plane to load. I watched as the luggage slowly went one by one on the conveyor belt. We were never going to leave.

Slightly anxious that we were going to miss our flight, I asked our flight attendant (who had set off a four alarm gaydar alert earlier), if he could give us the information about our connecting flight, "when he had the chance." I thought I was being very considerate and patient given what was happening. Wouldn't you know that queen snapped at me as if I had asked him for the moon. "I don't have that information! How would you expect me to know that? I have no way of knowing," and with that he turned back around to the current flight drama of a pale elderly woman and the nurse he found to care for her. Later in the flight, I overheard him saying to the nurse, "You know, some guy back there complained about how long I took to get his drink and I said to him, 'You know we have a medical emergency going on up here. Don't you think this woman's life is worth more than your drink?' Can you believe some people?" Of course, not five minutes after our flight attendant declared he had no way of finding out this information, did the other flight attendant patiently list out the connecting flights for the couple behind us, even calling back and forth to the cockpit to get the latest updates.

We had a glimmer of hope as we approached our destination when the pilot announced that many flights were being held...Jamaica, Cancun, Seattle...but not Greenville. While they could hold large, full flights to exotic locations, they could not hold our commuter flight (that runs from Memphis to Greenville and back again) just 14 minutes for us to make the connection. We missed our flight.

In general, I am not someone who gets angry with airline personnel. I didn't complain when I was stuck at O'Hare for 10 hours or when I was snowed in at Boston. Even during a 16 hour delay in the nasty Pittsburgh airport during the US Air strike in the early 90s did I ever complain to a soul. But now, I was furious. This was my one chance to have a normal family celebration and I was going to miss it. Not because of weather or plane malfunctions, but because some !$%*? called in sick to spend Christmas at home.

I know that airlines are not liable for missed flights due to weather or equipment malfunctions, but this was an error of the company who failed to have enough staff on duty to board the flights. Surely, we would be compensated for our lost Christmas.

At the gate, I asked the man handing out the revised itineraries if we would be able to have our money refunded or receive vouchers since the airline screwed up. Again, you would have thought I asked for his arm or leg..."No. You have a flight scheduled for this afternoon. Why do you think you would get your money back? It is not my fault. Look, here is a compensation packet with a $10 food voucher and $25 off your next flight. Move along. If you want to complain call the customer number. Don't tell me."

Okay, so let me get this right, I spent close to $700 for this flight to get me to Christmas dinner and because of a staffing failure, I miss my flight, lose out on Christmas dinner and the family get together and get a measly $10 voucher and a $25 coupon to fly this %$#^ airline again??? It was insulting. I was enraged.

I had to complain to someone who would take me serious, who would listen to my tale of woe and would care, someone who would refund my money or compensate me for more than $10 worth of disgusting airport food.

First, I called the customer number so lovingly given to me by the oh-so-kind gate agent.

"I'm sorry. No one is available to take your call. Please call again tomorrow."

Then, I called the 1-800 number. After waiting 20 minutes, listening to cheesy, happy musak, I finally got a real live person, who when I told her my tale of woe, sighed and said, "Awwwhhhhh, that must just be awful." Yes! Yes, it is. She understands. She said she could give me a refund. This wasn't so hard afterall was it!!

"Well, ma'am, I'll go ahead and cancel your flights for today."

"Cancel my flights? But, I'm still in Memphis. I need to get to Greenville or Boston at the least."

"Well, Ma'am, I'm sorry, but the only way to get your money back is to stay in Memphis."

"But, I don't live in Memphis. My family doesn't live in Memphis. Why the %&%#^ would I want to stay in Memphis?!?"

"So, you are saying that you don't want to stay in Memphis, is that right?"

"Uh. no. Why would I want to stay in Memphis???"

"Well, I'm terribly sorry Ma'am, but I can only refund your money if you cancel your flight. If you would like compensation, you need to call another number or see the ticketing office."

The other number, as you probably guessed it, would be the number I already tried.

So, off I went to the ticket agent. The woman on the phone told me if I complained enough they would give me my money back and by now I was getting well versed at complaining...though it didn't seem to do me any good.

I waited for what seemed an eternity at the ticket window, even though there was no one else in line. By now, tears had begun to flow, I was sniffling and sobbing and was really quite a scene in and of myself...just not a big enough scene for the agent to actually wait on me. Finally, after describing my whole tale of woe, the agent told me, "Well, Ma'am, I am sorry but I can't help you. You did receive your $10 food voucher, right? That is all we can do. Have a nice day."

"This is not acceptable," I proclaimed and demanded to see a supervisor...who was, as you can guess, unavailable. I refused to leave and so they sent another, actually quite genuinely nice man, Harold, to talk me out of my public scene. Harold and I went through the same you-can-stay-in-memphis-but-i hate-?@&%-memphis conversation for a good five minutes before he finally understood what I wanted.

"Look," I said, "Harold, right? I am sure you don't want to be here at Christmas either. I'm sure you would have liked to have been home with your family too. But you didn't call in sick, did you? You came to work beacuse you care. Harold, I am missing my family Christmas dinner and reunion simply because someone called in sick to stay at home with their family. It's not because of weather or even equipment failure. It is because of the selfishness of the Boston based crew who called in sick and shirked their duty. Do you understand why I want my money back, Harold, do you?"

It was a monlogue worthy of any Shakesperian drama...okay, well, maybe a cheesy movie of the week. The tears flowing, the earnest pleas all made my case. Surely, he would have pity on me and help me now.

"Well, Ma'am, if you really don't want to stay in Memphis there is nothing I can do. Would you like another food voucher? I can give you $20 more in food."

Of course I didn't want any more worthless vouchers for nasty food...but I took them because if nothing else it was $20 less that Northwest has in their pockets. I ended up giving some away to other stranded passengers and buying more Odwalla juice than I could drink.

You would think by now this never-ending blog post must be winding to an end...but there is more. Our afternoon flight was first delayed because the airline could not find the plane...they knew it was somewhere at the airport, but no clue where exactly. Once they found the plane and we boarded, we waited another hour due to "paperwork" and the fact that air control "did not understand our flight plan."

We finally arrived in Greenville hours after the last family members headed for home. Our saving grace was that Josh's family stayed and waited for us. They had platters of food ready to pop in the microwave and gifts to be unwrapped. Despite our utter exhaustion we managed to have Christmas after all.

This week I send off my poison pen letter to Northwest airlines....and the saga continues.

Merry Christmas!

Today we celebrated Christmas before I had to trudge off to work. All of us loved our gifts!
Beaver in a can!

Fabulous knee high brown boots!
Bones filled with peanut butter yumminess.

Afterwards we sat down to a scrumptious breakfast of Deluxe Town Diner pancakes, sausage, bacon and Peruvian coffee. As I write we are debating which new DVD to watch...my Free to Be You and Me or Josh's Battlestar Galactica Season 1.

Tagged!

Let me preface this by saying I think I answered a version of this at Pastor Mom sometime ago and some individual questions over at Idle Rambling Thoughts...so it may not be worth your reading. But Teddy tagged me...how could I refuse?

• Eggnog or Hot Chocolate? Definately hot chocolate...egg nog makes me want to vomit!
  
• Snow! Love it or hate it? Hmmm...from inside, with a fire-blazing, fluffy white flakes falling and no shoveling to do...love it. When it is wet and dirty and heavy and I have to shovel it, hate it.
  
• Can you ice skate? Ted's answer suffices: I'm from Ohio, not Canada. Of course I can't ice skate.
• When do you put your decorations up? Before St. Nick Night (Dec. 5th) though this year we were late...damn prospectus!
  
• Do you remember your favorite present? My stuffed ET that I didn't think my parents had gotten but magically showed up as the very last gift I unwrapped!
• Does Santa wrap presents or just set them under the tree? Of course he wraps them. You just have to buy the wrapping paper ahead of time and make sure you set it out in time for him to wrap all the gifts.
  
• Colored lights on tree/house or white? White, in general, particularly around the house. Yet, I do admire a well-done multi-color display that has the right amount of kitsch and nostalgia without going overboard to trashy and tacky.
  
• Do you hang mistletoe? Absolutely!! We have a very silly stuffed mouse that holds it and we place it in front of the front door. Too bad this year in our new apartment we only use the back door. Each year I consider buying real mistletoe...which would be a vast improvement to our plastic-mouse-held bunch...but it so expensive, I can never bring myself to actually purchasing it.
• What is your favorite Christmas dish? Sage stuffing. Mmmmm.
  
• Favorite Christmas memory as a child? Probably the excitement waiting to get back to our house for stocking night (St. Nick Night). That would be the night Santa came to put up the tree and leave our stocking gifts. Funny, my dad was always in such a bad mood after Santa spent hours struggling with strings of lights, gold garland and fake tree branches. It was always wonderful to see the tree for the first time, making sure all the important ornaments were in place and checking for the ones we had made.
• When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? At one point I remember telling my mom that I was fairly certain Santa did not exist, but I was going to keep believeing just in case I was wrong. Nothing like hedging your bets.
• What tops your tree? Nothing. Josh can't find a star that fits his platonic ideal of what a Christmas star should look like. In the past we tried ribbon and bows, but that just looked bad.
  
• Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? As kids...always. We did our Santa gifts on Christmas Eve so that we had time to get to Grandma's house for Christmas dinner the next day. Now that I'm an adult, we do the gifts Christmas Eve morning since I usually work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
  
• What kind of cookies does Santa get set out for him? We always set out oreos and chocolate chip cookies, plus carrots for the reindeers. Santa was always very kind to leave a thank you note for us. Funny, it always resembled my dad's handwriting.
  
• What's the most important thing about Christmas to you? The tree, definately the tree. There is nothing better than lounging on the couch with a cup of tea in front of the Christmas tree. Each year I am convinced that its the best Christmas tree ever! I also quite enjoy buying gifts for other people. It is too bad I am not rich. I would spend every last penny getting just the perfect gifts for friends and familiy...oh wait, I already do that...jus with far less money and much more debt!
  
• What is your favorite holiday dessert? Pumpkin pie from Frisch's Big Boy...who would have thought that Frisch's would have great pie...but they do!
  
• Favorite tradition? Stocking night and trimming the tree...do you see a theme here? For tree trimming parties we make the nasty food treats of our childhood, including pigs in a blanket (for Josh), trisket pizzas, cheese and crackers, sugar cookies from a roll, and the Knorr spinach dip.
  
• Which do you prefer - giving or receiving? Giving...every year I tell myself I am not going to go overboard this year. Just one or two gifts. I make a pact with Josh on spending limits for one another. I practice restraint in stores all year long. I recite mantras, "I will not buy another gift. I will not buy another gift." But every year, without fail, I go whole hog and spend way more money than I can afford to make sure my family has the best Christmas ever.
  
• What is your favorite Christmas carol? I like Advent more than Christmas...O Come O, Come Emmanuel and Come Thous Long Expected Jesus are favorites. For Christmas carols...gee, I don't know, probably, Angels We Have Heard on High (sung by people who can actually sing)
  
• Candy canes? They are great for tree and package decorations. The only way I have ever found to eat them in a semi-sanitary fashion is sucking through them to get to the juice of an orange. But then that just makes your mouth sore. Too much sucking.
  

The Holidays Make Me Sick

The holidays make me sick...literally.

Each year I come down with a nasty cold/sore throat/fever/flu/you-name-it just a few days before Christmas and Easter sending me rushing to the doctor, panicked to get my hands on miracle drugs to insure I can still preach.

Usually I blame the sickness on the stress of high holdiays, particularly for religious leaders. I blame the insane worship schedule and multiple services, the increased events to attend, the added preparations needed, and the intense pressure to preach the best sermon ever. Who wouldn't get sick from all that??

This year I was convinced I had escaped it. After all, since turning in my prospectus in early December, I had declared myself on vacation. I slept in, had lunch with friends I never see, volunteered at the workers' center, shopped and shopped, knitted, made cards and hand scrubbed my kitchen floor...twice! This year I didn't even have to preach for the entire month of December!! Score!

Yet, despite what I thought was a stress-free, health inducing vacation, my holiday ills finally caught up with me. It might have had something to do with the intense vacation schedule of lunches, shopping sprees, marathon craft session, and obsessive housecleaning. Yesterday it came in the form of death dealing fever that sucked all the life out of me. At one point, after insanely turning the heat up to 70, I wrapped myself up tightly under three quilts, wearing long johns, pajamas, two pair of wool socks, a hooded sweatshirt and Josh's wool cap. Tylenol turned out to be the miracle drug for the fever but I am still left with a nasty cold and sore throat. I think I have it under control just enough to lead worship for two services and fly to Josh's parents' home before comepletely crashing.

Is That A....?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Several years back when Julie and I lived together and had a paltry supply of ornaments between the two of us, we hosted a tree trimming party in which we invited guests to bring gynocentric, gynophilic, woman-centered ornaments....and this is one we received. Our friend, Amy, just happened to have visited her doctor that same day and came toting this lovely specimen.

Each year, we watch as friends look quizzically at the tree afraid to ask if it really is what they think it is. Most men have no idea. In fact, one man, flicked it as if it were a foreign type of insect, screwed up his face and asked, "What the hell is that?" Of course, it was always infinitely more fun when we had the tree in the parsonage.

It Is Officially Winter!

Some might assume I making this pronouncement on the occasion of Solstice, or the "official" start of winter according to the US weather watchers. But, no, I know it is officially winter by what I want to eat!

For the past two weeks all I have wanted to eat has been cheese and carbs. My body is all ready to pack on the pounds for a long winter's rest. With the exception of a few business lunches at Indian and Thai restaurants, I have pretty much only eaten grilled cheese and soup.

There are variations, of course...jalapeno jack cheese, cheddar cheese, swiss cheese, muenster cheese. You can have it on wheat or rye or pumperknickel or 7 grain...with tomato and avocado and tartar sauce, if you are lucky! And for breakfast, there is always the yummy combination of tortillas, queso fresco and avocado. YUM!

The soups are incidental to the meal, really, sometimes bean, sometimes noodle, sometimes squash. All they need to be is warm and filling to complement and highlight the center of the meal....cheese, glorious cheese!

MMmmmmm......

Christmas Came Early

Christmas came early this weekend as Josh surprised me with a new kitchen table and chairs. Although we have two dining sets, both are too big for our small abode.

For the past six months we have been eating on the couch in front of the television. Holding your plate on your lap is bad enough, but lately the dogs have decided if they sit next to us and put their noses close to our plates they can catch falling crumbs. Each night as we would sit down to dinner, I would sigh and mumble, "I hate eating like this."

Now I never have to do that again!

Battlecry

Dirt on my face. Weapon in hand. The Battle's raging. We're waging war. There's no time for apathy. No time for laziness. I can't stand by and watch my comrades be taken down. We have to do something. We have to fight. There's no other choice. This generation will not be lost. We will stand! We have the power through our General... Let's go get them back! Here we go. Raise your warcry and let's march.

facegirl22

I am ablaze; I cannot stay silent. I am a holy inferno; I cannot be hidden. I will stay the course, no matter the repercussion.
joeljohnson

I will fight to save my generation with all that i have, leaving no one behind. I will rally other soldiers to help build the army that WILL take back the 96 percent.
tknbk96

"Nothing says ‘God’s love’ like an elite killing machine."

You might imagine that the disturbing quotes and photo above come from a group of disgruntled teens, ready to open fire in their school or even perhaps from the "evil-doer," religious fundamentalists (aka Islamic radicals).

No.

These posts all come from the website of Battlecry, the new evangelical movement for teens. The profiles can all be found on the fundy my-space-esuqe network where teens craft their "Battleplans" for winning over this fallen generation. Referring to each other as "trenchmates," they message back and forth about upcoming battles (at places like Spencer's, Victoria's Secret, and MTV) and ask for prayers and strength from God for all the angst that is being a teenager. They pour all their adolescent passion into this "war," honestly believing that they are "branded by God [with] the mark of a warrior."

The melding of marketing, militarism and melodrama is quite disturbing. The movement centers around a curriculum and traveling stage production that through spectacle encourages teens to join the war and fight for their generation. The rallies feature martial displays of weaponry with Navy Seals parading as god-like on the stage, brandishing automatic rifles and rallying the troops to action. The line between spiritual and actual warfare is invisible.

Of course, the battle is never about global issues that impact us all, like, I don't know, let's say, poverty, environmental degradation, HIV/AIDS epidemic, genocide, or domestic violence. Instead of protesting warfare, this movement glorifies it in the name of God and Christendom.

Scary.

Reporter Sunsara Taylor has taken on this group in a series of articles. Attending the rallies, she reports "from the frontlines," so to speak, even challenging Ron Luce, himself, the founder of this teen Army of God. Check out her work and the video clip of her debate with Luce on FOX (faux) News as well as the watchdog website, Acquire the Evidence.

YIPPPPPEEEEEE!!!!

WooHoo!!!

My prospectus passed! After two years of a pending complaint, after a year of wrangling with the committee (okay, so just one particular member...), and after a grueling fall of writer's block and deadlines, IT IS FINISHED! (The pastor in me loves proclaiming that.)

Of course, by the same token, I've only just begun (thank you, Karen Carpentar for that line of liturgy).

For those of you who have yet to be tortured by my rehearsal of my topic, I am investigating the connection between what we practice and what we believe in the United Methodist Church. I am convinced that the way our Church (UMC) treats GLBT persons reflects what it means to be Church (remember the post awhile back about this very question?). That is, our practices of prohibiting queer people from full participation in the Church reflect our theology of what it means to be the Church. My question is whether or not the theology embedded within our practices match our perceived, historical theology as articulated in the life and ministry of our founder, John Wesley.

In the words of my now passed propsectus,

"This dissertation takes seriously [the] observation that the practices and polity of the United Methodist Church toward homosexual persons intersect and embody significant ecclesiological commitments and it asks whether...the Church has strayed from its ecclesiological tradition in its practice and policy toward homosexual persons, or whether its polity and practices faithfully embody that tradition. This is the central question of this dissertation."

The goal is to have all of the Wesleyan section completed by May. Wish me luck!

It's Beginning to look More Like Christmas

We finally went out and bought our tree this year! In the past we have bought our tree from local stands in town where kids and adults run a makeshift business for a few weeks in a vacant lot, but this year we live in the City where there are no extra vacant lots for charities or neighborhood groups to set up shop. What to do?

We decided we would try the Home Depot closest to our house, after all their trees were supposedly cheaper and they had a bajillion from which to choose. The minute we pulled into the packed parking lot we knew this was a grave mistake. People were everywhere, rushing back and forth with such frenetic energy it made me nauseus to watch them go. Josh cajoled me out of the car promising that it would get better, but it only got worse. The store looked as if a tornado had whipped through it with trees half bound and discarded after being ruled out as the perfect one. The aisles were lined with families all grabbing trees as if there were not, like I said before, a bajillion from which to choose. You could not pass in the aisles because no one was concerned about anyone else. Whole families clogged the traffic flow as they laid stake to the bound trees they wanted, loudly shouting to one another the merits of each tree. I think it took me less than 5 minutes before I became so anxious I had to leave.

Strike one.

On the outskirts of town we had spied a small stand like the places from which we used to buy our trees and decided to try that one. When we arrived we were one of two families there. Talk about moving from extreme to extreme. And while the stand lay on the front lawn of the VFW it was not entirley clear that the people running it were indeed veterans of foreign wars or just the local mobsters in town. Entering the chain link tree fort, we were approached by a man with no neck who asked if we would like a candy cane. Uh, no.

I was convinced this year, after three years of dead dry trees by Dec. 15th, that we should buy a fraiser fir, and indeed this place had one...exactly one. It was a nice tree, but somehow I got the feeling that my desire for this particular type of tree just doubled my price. We walked a bit through the aisles of scrawny firs of various sorts and slipped out unnoticed by the men with no neck.

Strike two.

There was one last place to check. Downtown Union Square had a florist shop on the corner that was selling trees. Although we were unsure there was parking, we headed down anyway. Much to our surprise there was indeed a very tiny parking lot, jammed with other urban dwellers, cars parked this way and that. As we entered the florist grounds we heard Christmas music piped over the intercom. While perhaps just as crowded as the Home Depot, the atmosphere was much more relaxed. Here the diversity of families' shapes and sizes was a welcome relief to the cookie cutter, bland white-bread, obnoxious families at Home Depot. People sauntered from tree to tree, carefully inspecting each from all sides, for here, there were no bound trees. Each tree was displayed on its own stand in a virtual Christmas forest. At once we both sighed a great heave of relief. We had found Christmas tree home.

We knew this was the place for us, even when we glanced at the urban prices substantially marked up from even the mafiaosa place. But it was worth it. For a few extra dollars we bought the Christmas experience we had always wanted. It was urban. It was hip. It was diverse. It was cool. And after all, aren't we?

Religious Rant #2563798

You can read my latest religious rant over at Religion Is a Queer Thing about Paul Barnes, the most recent publicly outed gay pastor in Colorado.

Too Extreme?

Your 'Do You Want the Terrorists to Win' Score: 100%

You are a terrorist-loving, Bush-bashing, "blame America first"-crowd traitor. You are in league with evil-doers who hate our freedoms. By all counts you are a liberal, and as such cleary desire the terrorists to succeed and impose their harsh theocratic restrictions on us all. You are fit to be hung for treason! Luckily George Bush is tapping your internet connection and is now aware of your thought-crime. Have a nice day.... in Guantanamo!

Do You Want the Terrorists to Win?
Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Sometimes I wonder, "Am I too extreme? Am I a shameless ideologue? Am I really all that polemical?"

Well, the answer on this quiz (shamelessly stolen from Teddy) seems to shout a loud YES to all those questions!

The Christians and the Pagans

Ahhh, the age old threat of paganism is alive and well again!This week on MassResistance, an anti-gay blog dedicated to repealing same-sex marriage in Massachusetts, I was reminded of the ever increasing, diabolical forces of "paganization" that are sweeping our nation. Ironically, the very embodiment of these wicked pagan demoniacs was evidenced by the "wacky pseudo-Christians...with their religious symbols and clerically dressed spiritual leaders," clergy that I personally organized to witness at last month's Constitutional Convention.

Now, I could be wrong, but I assumed that crosses, and stoles and robes and Roman collars were all Christian symbols.

While it is always dangerous to look for rational arguments on these types of websites, it seems that this logical leap from Episcopalian clergy to paganism is well-founded in the work of other noted scholars, such as Dr. Peter Jones, who explains the dangers of paganism to our youth and nation in his article, "Christian Letters to a Pagan Planet." In fact, had I been paying attention, I too could have witnessed the "paganization" of the academy at the recent American Academy of Religion (AAR) conference I attended. He cites several examples of the rise of extremist ideology taking over college campuses including, "An "evangelical feminist" [who] railed against the genocidal foundation of America and called for the deconstruction of "normative heteropatriarchy."" (Xochitl, was that you???)

Apparently, the dangers of "paganism" have infected even the ivory towers of religious education, shaping and molding today's youth into radical apostates. For Jones the professors and scholars he heard at the AAR are evidence of the threat to our youth, a veritable "armada of brain-power deployed on our campuses to form the thinking of the rising generation."

Now, here is the funny thing, I don't think Dr. Jones is wrong. In fact, he is right on target. There is a growing body of research and a ever widening circle of scholars that understands the way in which the Christian tradition at times both oppresses those at the margins and offers possibilities of liberation. These scholars in liberation, feminist and queer theologies are not "anti-Christian" because they question Christianity, rather they are part of that very tradition they seek to engage, pushing at its limits, struggling with its history, re-shaping and re-molding it that it might be a living tradition once again. While for some that struggle may lead to a need to move beyond Christianity to becoming post-Christian, or Buddhist or yes, even, pagan, there are others who remain challenging the tradition to live up to its own message.

I have hope for the future of the Church precisely becasue of the radical, new scholarship happening in our colleges and seminaries. Dr. Jones had it almost exactly right, after all these scholars are indeed an armada of brain-power deployed on our campuses to form the rising of the thinking generation!

PS Check out a great song by Dar Williams about The Christians and the Pagans.

Our Dogs Are Stars!

We think our dogs are celebrities, but now it is official. Their paparazzi pics can be found over at Sheep's mum's website (Sheep is their golden doodle friend who looks like, you guessed it, a sheep). You can see both our beloved hounds on the September 3rd page. Today Norbert was the center of the photo shoot as he slobbered Sheep's papa with kisses.

You can see the photos of that shoot on the December 7th page.


Everyone at the park has fallen in love with Norbert. He is just that kind of dog. His fuzzy beard, goofy gait and fluffy tail help him to stand out in the crowd and his winning, uber-extroverted personality refuses to let anyone get out of a canine make-out session with him. Poor Clety, on the other hand, often gets overlooked since he, like his own mama, is more introverted. Kiss a stranger? Ew!

Welcome Kirk to the Blogosphere

Visit my friend, Kirk's, brand new blog over at Goat and Chicken. It'll be good!

A Pastor's Guide to Swearing

Nobody swears like a pastor. Isn't that what they say?

When I was first beginning to contemplate ecclesial work I was convinced I could never be a pastor because of my, well, to put it nicely, my "potty mouth." Ever since a late night driving around the outskirts of Cincinnati with my friend, Tushi, I could not stop cursing. It was as if she opened the flood gate of all the curse words and profanities I had stored up in my 18 year life span. While over the years I learned to refine my vulgar vocabulary, it never really did go away. In fact, when once I slipped and let loose a stinging string of hair-curling words in front of my mother, she literally fell off her chair and exclaimed, "TIFFFAAANNNNYYYY, not even God says those words!" I thought she was going to faint.

How could I be a pastor if I couldn't clean up my vocabulary?

But, after years in seminary and in the pastorate, I am convinced my mom was wrong. In fact, if God were a person I am sure God would use those words. After all, there is nothing like a well-placed "*@!#" to make your point. One of my colleagues once got the advice,

"A good pastor is someone who knows when it's ok to say words like damn and fuck."

How true it is!

Of course, you do need some restraint and the wisdom to know when and where to use the words. Perhaps saying, "Please rise for the call to fucking worship," may not be the best choice
(as was the suggestion of a friend who our clergywomen's group taught to swear). But, I believe that using these words makes us human and helps us connect to others in a more authentic way.
There are times when the, "hmmm, that must be difficult," trained pastoral response is far from
adequate for life's messy situations.

Sometimes nothing less than a good @!*?! will do!

I'm a God Mama!

This week I received what has to be one of the single greatest phone calls of my life. My college roommate, Lizzy, called to ask me to be one of the God-Mama's for her and her partner Joy's baby, Stella.

It was as if she had called to tell me I had just won the lottery or had been voted theologian of the year. Better than being tapped as a leader of the God Squad, I was going to be someone's god-mama!!!

I know that on the surface my reaction must seem hyperbolic...people get asked to be godparents all the time; even I was surprised at my own reaction. Yet, I felt overwhelmed with a sense of privilege and honor that Lizzy and Joy would ask me to be part of their family in that way. Living in Latin America for a time, I learned to appreciate godparents, not just as family members who dress up for the kid's baptism or as people who promise to raise the baby in case of the unexpected death of both their parents (agreeing so only in "theory"), but rather as people who journey with the child their whole life, supporting and encouraging them every step of the way. This is the type of god-mama I want to be!

Buy This Book

My high school friend, Teddy, and his partner, Rob, just published their first anthology together. Entitled, "From Boys to Men," it is a collection of essays about growing up gay. I confess, it is still being shipped at the moment, but knowing their work I can assure you it is well worth the read.

Teddy and I were class treasurers together in high school ("TNT for T") among other silly, adolescent antics which we shared back then. However, those cannot be released to the blogosphere.