Archive for May, 2010

Tomorrow will be a better day …

May 5, 2010

Things are looking up. Heading to the store for some fresh fruit: pineapple and strawberries.

Our entertainment for the past few days has been some major excavation work at the house across the street. It seems their lateral sewer connection failed. The pile of dirt is immense; a large pink dogwood was lost, end of their driveway and two sidewalks demolished.

I know the guy operating the backhoe, but have talked with him very little during the job, not feeling up to snuff and all. He probably doesn’t miss my engineering assistance.

Everyone in our village  pays $28 per year into a community fund to help with such failures. If pooled funds are sufficient, 90% of the cost can be covered (provided proper bidding processes are followed). Ours went a few years ago with the repair at $4,000. Ninety percent helped! The job across the street is running around $12,000.

We are missing lots of beautiful weather in an attempt to avoid the tree pollen. Windows shut and the A/C on when they normally would not be.

Tomorrow will be a better day …

Enjoying the life of a lioness on the Serengeti

May 4, 2010

There are some pretty disappointed critters in our backyard today, I cut the grass. It has only been four weeks, but there was a lot of moisture, rain/storms, while we were gone.

Mother rabbit was hanging around most of each day with her ears visible in the tall grass. I’m thinking she was enjoying the life of a lioness on the Serengeti. Perhaps she wasn’t aware of an occasional coyote, nor did she look up much to be aware of the red tails in the neighborhood. Anyway, without the cover she’ll feel more vulnerable and go back to her predawn hours.

My many friends in the mole family have had their shenanigans revealed. Is there a four-wheel drive hand mower for those soft spots? It’s time to put out my I HAVE TRAPS! sign.

A treat of treats has been the baby chipmunks. In all these years, I had never seen a baby chipmunk. We have four! They are obviously honing their skills, exploring and doing some low-level climbing. One found a hole along the edge of a brick walk. It would disappear, come back out, disappear again. They found maple seeds interesting.

I remember when I saw my first chipmunk in Minneapolis. They always were in the north woods of Minnesota, but I didn’t see one in Minneapolis before the 70s. Now, seeing them in Saint Louis really seems odd to me.

Our late Schnauzer, Katie,  did a pretty good job of critter control, dragging a squealing mole out of the ground cover, finding baby rabbits fun to catch and kill. When she barfed up an entire mole on the family room floor, we found her willingness to share her spoils a little much.

The spot on the carpet is still there twenty years later. Oh, we clean at it and render it invisible. But it comes back,

I’m staying in!

May 3, 2010

Being under the weather for more than a week following our trip to Italy has had a tendency to tarnish a wonderful experience. Upper-respiratory infection aggravated by allergies, energized by the exhausting 27-hour day coming home, and the effects of jet-lag on any attempts to rest,  have come together to create a unique way for really feeling crappy.

Early this afternoon, we wondered where the plume was coming from as it stretched across our backyard. It turns out that a sudden breeze had lifted oak pollen off of our roof as well as the neighbor’s. I’m staying in!

Sunday at noon, here in St. Louis, “Eyes on the Prize” is being shown in three two-hour segments – one segment each Sunday.  I can’t recall how many times I’ve watched many of the six segments, but the whole thing remains gut-wrenching.  Watching the series is well worth being kept aware.

I’m hopeful for a program on the middle passage where anywhere from 16 to 60 million Africans died during their transport on slave ships. Their was apparently indifference in the record keeping to have an accurate number.

Yes, it is easy to become distracted

May 2, 2010

In this morning’s New York Times is an article by Nicholas Kristof which is one of the more thoughtful reflections on the Catholic Church today I have ever read. He speaks so well about the true church, the people, and the relentless efforts by many day after day to fulfill our baptismal obligations, to care for the poor and others in need, to love one another.

Yes, it is easy to become distracted by the betrayal we have been (and continue to be?) subjected to by the clerical hierarchy of the church. But the people I minister to, men in maximum security prisons, aren’t concerned with what goes on in diocesan offices or in the Vatican. If the pope and all the bishops were to drop dead, their lives wouldn’t change; their hunger and need for encouragement, support, and spiritual sustenance wouldn’t be diminished.

When I am standing at a cell door, the temporal presence of the Roman Catholic Church exists in only two people: me and the man on the other side of the door. Building the kingdom, proclaiming the good news, is  a “now” phenomenon taking place at the micro level in millions of instances every second of the day all over the world. What the pope or bishops think or declare about anything isn’t really part of the picture. It seems that the work of the church goes on in spite of them rather than because of them.

That’s an unfair statement. The deposit of faith has been developed, clarified, and passed down throughout the centuries by the same type of people who seem so out of touch today. But what they do and what they teach are two separate things. Once the sheep learned to read, things began to unravel.

The gospel message began to be seen more clearly as getting lost in all the pomp, rituals, as well continued bogus claims about the origins of some of our sacraments. Elaborate schemes to maintain any and all vestiges of power while suppressing  prophetic voices questioning the mythology, are becoming more and more visible and, naturally, more repulsive.

Going through the Vatican museum a couple of weeks ago, I noticed my pace quickening as the reality of that whole farce sank in further and further. How did such a  self-serving charade ever get started? Certainly not from the gospels, the teachings and practices of Jesus.

We humans seem to be unimaginative when it comes to conferring importance on things or people we hold dear. Sacred objects need to be gold. Monuments to saints – even those dedicated to living with and for the poor – are soaring, domed, cavernous structures filled with marble masterpieces, vast frescoes and mosaics, and paintings by the masters. All priceless stuff.

Leadership of our faith tradition are given a hierarchical structure, titles, positions of power, fine places to live. Then, of course, they develop their own laws, norms of behavior, rules of obedience and secrecy, and declarations of infallibility  to keep those under their spiritual care out of the sanctuaries and where they belong.

Read the Kristof article if you can find the time.