Apathy

I haven't paid too much attention to the presidential election of late. I watched a couple of the early debates and basically saw "politics as usual" being played out. The one Democratic candidate I felt most strongly about, New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson, didn't have a snowball's chance in hell, and he was indeed knocked out early in the primaries. The remainder of the Democratic primary turned into a prolonged slug fest between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. The Republican primary was an interesting dance amongst the religious candidates and "war hero" John McCain.

For the remainder of the primaries what little news allowed through my filters was heard while reading, watching, or listening to media regarding news about other issues. The only information of passing interest was that the Democratic party would be making history no matter which front runner won. We would have the nation's first person of color or first woman as the presidential candidate for a major party. Other than that, I did not, and still do not, hold out much hope that things will change very much no matter who occupies the White House for the next four years.

Last night, mostly out of curiosity, I turned on the television to watch Obama's acceptance speech. At first I was surprisingly impressed. Then I realized that his speech was nothing more than a series of sound bytes strung together for maximum effect.

Blah blah blah, we need change. Yada yada yada, we don't need four more years of Bush/McCain. Blah blah blah, the economy is a big issue. Yada yada yada, Roosevelt and Kennedy. Blah blah blah, I have a dream.

I expect we'll hear much the same, cast in Republican terms, from McCain in a few days.

For the first time in my life, I am seriously tempted not to vote for President.

Peace,
Jeffri

Three Boxes

I took the blue box in to the office yesterday and gave it to Ruth-Ann. She was truly surprised and delighted. She didn't realize at first that it had started out as a plain wooden box, and I'd done all the painting and decorating.

Here's the box I did for myself, using the same style box as the one I did for Ruth-Ann. The sides are dark green. The image is of Saints Sergius and Bacchus.


This dark green index card sized box (the same color green I used on the box above) is the one I was having trouble with. For some reason the first coat of varnish slightly smeared the stamped decorations. After living with it for a couple of days, I decided that it has a certain charm as it is and applied the second coat of varnish. The decorative stamp you see here appears on three sides and the top.


Here is the front with the different decorative element. The stamp I used on the other sides did not fit in the available space.


Here you can see the top and front.

Inside are stamped Tarot images. The box was made to hold a couple of tarot decks, or a deck and a spread cloth. Depending on the size of the deck, you might also be able to fit a tea light holder as well.

And the last box I made for another friend. She has a small boutique that she calls InnerFairy. Hence the fairies on the lid.

This picture shows the lid partially open--it slides.

Here you can see the inside of the box. The decorative paper is actually cut from one of the InnerFairy shopping bags.

I've enjoyed making these. There may be more in the future. In fact, I'm pretty sure there will be more.

Peace,
Jeffri

Two Boxes

The first two boxes are done. I wish now that I'd taken pictures of them before I started. The first one is a square box that I painted dark blue. I think the paint color is Night Sky. The picture on the cover is a print of Rublev's Trinity icon. Rachel suggested adding the larger square of paper, and it really highlights the print.



The second box is a gift for Ruth-Ann, so she has a crush-proof box to pack her sacred space items when she facilitates meetings. She has an affinity for Mary, so I went through a lot of images before finally coming back to Our Lady of Guadeloupe. This particular image of Mary is symbolic of the work Ruth-Ann and I have done with Province IX of the Episcopal Church.




I also picked out some new items for her. I bought the hand-woven white cloth at a craft fair a few years ago because I liked it. It sat in a drawer ever since waiting to be used. I thought of it while working on this box and pulled it out to give to Ruth-Ann. The three small cards are different images of Mary, and the tea light holder will hold a votive size candle too. And since we can't always light a real candle in some of our meeting rooms, I also bought a battery powered flickering tea light.

The next two boxes are almost done. I have one last coat of varnish to paint on both of them and hinges to re-attach to one. I should have pictures of them in the next couple of days.

I'm having trouble with the last box. The varnish is smearing the decorative elements, and I have to redo at least two sides.

Sometimes it's just nice to work with your hands.

Peace,
Jeffri

Something To Ponder

I'm still working my way through Sandy Sasso's God's Echo. It's a short book, but lately I've been spending my train rides doing Sudoku puzzles. However, this evening during the commute home I got tired of the numbers and pulled the little book from my briefcase to read. On page 113, Sandy writes

Prayer has its place, but it is not a substitute for courage and responsible action.

In other words, eventually you have to get off your duff and actually do something. God isn't going to do it alone.

I haven't been writing much over the past week. I've been working with my hands to transform some plain wooden boxes. I am taking an idea I had and wrote about, and I am creating it into reality.

Creating it into reality.

Definitely something to ponder as I look at the future.

Peace,
Jeffri

Scripture Is A Living Story

This afternoon when I opened an email from Missy to the NAECED (National Association for Episcopal Christian Education Directors) listserv I noted her email signature:

"A literalist interpretation of Scripture tells us that God is a rock that sent a bird to cause a virgin to give birth to a loaf of bread. And this is supposed to be an improvement on obtaining a chiseled code of conduct from a flaming shrubbery in a cloud. If a literal understanding is all that is required for faith, then I'm a yellow ducky." --Rabbi Ben Silva

I don't know how long she's been using that quote in her sig file, but I think it popped out at me today because my train reading for the past couple of days has been Sandy Eisenberg Sasso's God's Echo: Exploring Scripture with Midrash. Sr. Joan Chittester, a favorite writer of mine, wrote the afterword, but as I'm only halfway through the book, I haven't read it yet.

This is the second book on midrash I've read in the past year, and the first by Jewish author, as well as a rabbi (Sasso is co-rabbi with her husband at Congregation Beth-El Zedeck in Indianapolis, as well as being a noted author). In the section titled "What Makes Us Angry: Eavesdropping on the First Argument," which explores the Cain and Abel story, this paragraph struck me:

These midrashim do more than illustrate the textual playfulness and imaginative creativity of the rabbis. They offer us insight into the world in which the rabbis lived and allow us a glimpse into the economic, religious, and sexual quarrels that plagued their times. In expanding the story of Cain and Abel, the rabbis not only fill in what is missing in the biblical text, they give the narrative new life and make it meaningful for another generation. They also invite us to read our own story into the ancient text. (pp. 69-70)

In other words, Scripture is a living document which gets reinterpreted in, by, and for every generation. Midrash is one way in which our stories become part of The Story (for more on this theme, see my Education for Ministry Sunday sermon) and vice versa. If Scripture is nothing more than a printed set of unchangeable rules, regulations, and behavioral codes, then it should have stopped at the Ten Commandments. Or been only the Ten Commandments. Jesus himself knew better.

As I read and listen to many conservatives who insist that the Bible is to be taken literally and as God's final word, I almost feel sorry for them. They are living the dead faith of a dead story.

Years ago during the pilot for the aborted diocesan "sexuality dialogue" I raised the question, "If our Scripture is a living document, why did it stop being written nearly 2,000 years ago?" Which, of course, brought cries of "heretic" from the representatives of the conservative parishes present. Now I know the answer to my own question. Scripture is still being written, and has been written down through the generations. It is our living story, and each of us who takes the time to wrestle with it contributes to it.

Peace,
Jeffri