the glorious cold

We are on the front side of a cold snap, up here in the interior of Alaska. It’s just starting to get cold, with temperatures this morning in downtown Fairbanks hovering right around 30 below Fahrenheit.

The weather forecasters are threatening us with an extended cold spell, indicating temperatures should drop into the negative 40’s in the days ahead, with no break to the cold in the foreseeable future.  But what do they know?

I like the cold.

More honestly, I like extreme weather.

I find that it is nature’s way of reminding us who is in charge, of the limits to our own knowledge, technology, and power.

The wilderness, or natural world, restores my spirit. Whenever I can, I like to go to the mountains, the forests, or sea to do just that.  I don’t get there as often as Id like.

So when the weather turns inclement, it’s like a house call from God.

It redeems me, renews my understanding of my place in the world, and the universe. Despite all our folly, our destruction of ecosystems and life (possibly even our own), weather reassures me the natural world will persevere.

We may not recognize the outcome, or be able to exist in it, but nature and all its intricacies will remain.

And that comforts me.

So today when I come in from the cold, fingers swollen, icicles and frost on my beard, don’t pity me.

Celebrate with me.

For I’ve been dancing with the gods.

In the oh so, glorious cold.

Read Full Post »

where spirituality is not welcome

“And a great silence was heard by all.”

A few years ago a fellow came to our Fellowship and gave a sermon lecture on spirituality, its plurality in both source and substance, and how the natural world provides that sustenance for some people.

It was an outstanding talk, well prepared and thoughtfully presented.  I sought out the speaker, a rarity for me, interested in getting the name of the numerous books he referenced during the talk.

I immediately went out and stocked up on the books he referenced, some completely new to me, others on my “to read” list that had suddenly shifted priorities.

Among the books and authors:  The Island Within by the Alaska author Richard Nelson, anything and everything by William Berry, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, Wild Mind – Living the Writing Life by Natalie Goldberg, The Great Work by Thomas Berry, and Peace is Every Step by Thich Nhat Hanh.

As you can tell by the list, the topics are wide ranging and sourced from a variety of faiths; the Zen Buddhism of Thich Nhat Hanh, the Catholicism of Thomas Berry, and the more naturalistic spirituality of others.

I wonder how many of our current members heard that talk, and more so how many of them remember it.

Now, years later, this same fellow has joined our fellowship, volunteered for, and worked for (literally, as an employee) the betterment of our so called community.

His recent resignation (see postings “mixed news for democracy” and “streams of thought“) has left a bad taste in my mouth, one that grows increasingly bitter with time and as my perception of the event grows.

Recently I sat through a Sunday service celebrating Charles Dickens (a Unitarian) and his work “A Christmas Carol.”  The play was great, ad hoc, funny, and perceptive, a typical UUFF celebration.

There was, however, for me and perhaps me alone, a noticeable void in the service.  A community member, one who had generously given of themselves, was no longer welcome among us.

As mentioned above, I’ve struggled with why this is so.  At one point, I thought it was the UUFF phobia of ministers, be they Unitarian, Baptist, or otherwise.  Religious professionals are not welcome among us, at least not for any longer than to give a sermon and get stuck back on a plane to the states.

Then there are the conspiracy theorists among us, who felt a power play was in place to wrestle control away from the “old timers” and board members and give it to the new members- referred to from here on out in this post as “the sheep.”

It occurred to me, sometime during Scrooge’s interaction with the ghost of Christmas future, that what drove this witch hunt (odd for a religious tradition that celebrates its originators for being burnt at the stake for heresy) is the fear of spirituality.

Many of our members appear to associate spirituality with evangelical Christianity, and too many reject it as worthless altogether.  They are comfortable being an intellectual, Sunday morning social club devoid of souls on a search for greater meaning.  Which is fine, except that ‘they’ don’t own the rights to dictate that spiritual sterility to the membership at large, despite their longstanding memberships or large donations.

So along comes a growing group of new members (the sheep), ‘perceptively’ led by this former minister of a Christian church, urging UUFF down a more spiritually diverse path.  This new exploration of faith, brought about by new members who arrived at UUFF searching for answers, not scared or scarred by ministers, or by discussions of god or Jesus, has now been properly admonished.

A line has been drawn.

Instead of down the middle of the Fellowship, recognizing both sides have valid contributions to our community, it is outside the front door.

Spirituality is not welcome here.

Christianity is not welcome here.

Don’t call this a church.

Don’t talk of ministers.

Don’t talk of Jesus.

Our principles look great on paper and sound great when we recite them, but don’t expect us to actually act upon them, or let them guide our actions.

And so, without so much as trying, we’ve now become like every other religious organization.  Say one thing, and then do another.

My early experiences at UUFF taught me that was the case, that there were people who made their home at UUFF not because of the principles, or due to a spiritual quest, but because there was no dogma or organized structure to take them to task for their immorality.

I accepted that, feeling that those few didn’t represent the membership at large.

Now I am not so sure.

I am not so sure I can sit through services any longer either, feeling that void in the back of the sanctuary, sucking my energy out, preventing free exploration of mind and spirit.

The part of me that takes strongest offense to the line separating them and us wants to step across it, wiping it away each time it gets redrawn.

Again, and again, and again.

Until it is gone, and we are once again a community.

Read Full Post »

the virgin mary, snow, and plastic flowers

I’ve been walking to and from work downtown recently, depending on when I go relative to kids going to school or my wife going to work.

Today I rolled out of bed while everybody else was sleeping in, taking off to work in one of those beautiful mid-winter mornings in Fairbanks. New snow had blanketed the town during the late morning, and was still drifting down.

Snow in Fairbanks is unique to any place I’ve lived. It falls silently, rarely accompanied by any wind, and stacks quietly on any limbs, wires, or even twigs; forming an intricately woven organic lace of white on every tree, willow, or blade of grass long enough to still emerge from earlier snows.

It was a beautiful day for a walk, even if just to work.

After work, I headed home via the post office. It gave me an opportunity to cross the Cushman Street Bridge and pass by the Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, as opposed to the pedestrian bridge where I usually cross the river.

I grew up Catholic, and although my views on religion stray far from the church these days, I still long for the spirituality and mysticism that can envelop a traditional mass. So much so, as I passed their front door, that I eyed the times for mass and even considered recruiting, or drafting, my family for a Christmas service.

I continued down the path, freshly cleaned of snow (the only disturbance during my early morning walk was the snow blower running over the church’s walks); to the little altar of stone for the Virgin Mary built in the Church’s front yard. The snow had been carefully brushed away from the altar. Within the apse, a statue of the virgin mother stands, surrounded by pots of brightly colored plastic flowers.

The irony of this little scene didn’t escape me.

So I stood there, in the low winter light of the Alaska midday sun, rays filtering through the branches of the snow covered birch trees, snow still softly falling upon me, surrounded by divinity as it was meant to be, in front of a poorly crafted altar to the mother of a god made in mankind’s own image.

I walked on, struck by the folly of man.

Of religion.

Of the obscenity of plastic flowers replacing real ones made by god.

Man does do it better, after all.

Meanwhile the pope is in Rome, railing against the evils of homosexuality, proclaiming how it will be the downfall of humanity.

Not overpopulation.

Not the disease, starvation, war, torture, abuse, injury, rape, environmental ruin or death brought on by overpopulation.

Just homosexuality.

Homosexuality?

Read Full Post »

excavating Christmas

After several moves in the past year or two, we have ended up with a couple of unheated storage units haphazardly packed with everything from caribou antlers to furniture, drafting tables to fishing nets, sewing fabric to tarps (brown, not the classic Alaska blue variety).

Of course, mixed in with the above, is box after box of who knows what. (I know what, but given this is a “G-rated” blog I can’t say).

I might add, none of it is mine.

Except maybe those caribou antlers. And maybe the fishing nets……. Oh, the drafting table might also be mine. And that tarp sure was handy last time I went camping.

Anyways, on this not particularly cold Saturday (about 0 degrees Fahrenheit) I was charged with the task of extracting the Christmas decorations from those storage units. Not an easy task.

Accompanying me on this expedition were the intrepid Jolie and Ali, renowned explorers of the subarctic. Of course, neither of them brought hats or mittens and ended up spending the bulk of the time in the running car while I entered the realm of the lost and forgotten.

Before going on, I should add that when it comes to Christmas, I consider the Grinch and Scrooge as great failures. Once great fighters for the cause, they succumbed to temptation, celebrated Christmas and led many a young recruit away from crotchety obscurity.

May they be crucified upon Christmas trees.

Back to Saturday.

While I dove bravely into the storage units, mumbling about how the temperature inside the units was a good ten degrees colder, and the boxes and artifacts a good ten degrees colder still, the girls sat in the car arguing.

After 30 minutes of shifting boxes around, it came upon the midday clear, that Christmas sucks and I was cold.

Actually, after thirty minutes of listening to the girls fight while I froze trying to get “their” Christmas decorations out, I lost it. Let’s just say, if Santa was indeed watching there is one not so little boy who will be getting coal in his stocking for Christmas.

By the time I was done with my rant, it was clear to not only the girls but to anyone within a mile that we wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas again until they had children of their own if they so much as uttered another word against each other.

Returning to the storage units, fully heated, I extricated the green and red tubs of Christmas décor, and lodged them ever so gently into the car.  (Sarcasm.)

About this time, a light went off in my head, causing me to duck and whirl about in surprise. (Those lights don’t go off very often, and always catch me by surprise.)

My Christmas shopping dilemma was solved. The solution was right in front of me, in those storage units. Inside, box upon box of forgotten possessions sat, waiting to be rediscovered………. under the Christmas tree.

I can wrap those boxes, stick them under the tree, and we can rediscover lost treasures!!!

It’s free!!!!

It’s easy!!!!

The kids will love it, after all, the one time they emerged from the car long enough to peek into storage they were trying to grab on to anything that looked like theirs to take back home. This way, they can have it all!!!

And talk about boxes of stuff. Jane will get more presents then she ever has. Boxes and boxes of fabric, sewing patterns, unfinished projects!!

Yeah!!!!!

I’ll let you know how it works out- I will save myself days of shopping agony!!!

.

.

.

.

Come to think of it, just guessing, I may need a place to stay for a while after Christmas.

After arriving home, and unloading the precious cargo, my two little helpers and I headed inside, me to thaw out, them to pick up the house before we could unpack the Christmas goods.

It took another day, but eventually they did just that. And, for the most part, they took my threat to cancel the next 18 years of Christmas seriously.

By Sunday night, the house was clean, the tree was up, and the kids were excitedly watching Christmas movies.

And I, believe it or not, had enjoyed it. It is, perhaps for a long time, the first time in recent memory that I enjoyed the process of decorating for Christmas.

It may have been the excitement of the girls, or just the process of spending a weekend with them, and at home, that wore down my resolve.

Or perhaps it was frostbite.

Or a thawing of the discontinuous permafrost between my ears.

In the end, the process of excavating Christmas had proved to be as much internal as external.

And in a year of change, why not one more?

Read Full Post »

for a friend

Following your thoughts over the past couple of days,
And am myself swinging between thoughts and feelings of reconciliation and outrage.

Your sensitivity to the needs of the spirit move me,
The morning darkness,
The candles,
The songs,
And prayers.
And make me envious,
Of your skills and knowledge, and wisdom.
Don’t doubt you have those,
Despite the rhetoric from others that do not,
Their view of you,
Spoken behind closed doors,
Is not your true reflection.

In the meantime,
Cling to these days with your son,
He will keep you afloat,
When life threatens to pull you under.
As my daughters have done,
And do,
For me,
When my own shadow,
Threatens to obscure the day,
And the night.

Read Full Post »

streams of thought…..

I wrote a piece a few days ago on a recent event at our Fellowship, where our Membership Director resigned at the request and/or not so subtle encouragement of our board.

The piece was decidedly critical of how this process took place, with some angst directed, right or wrong, at our Board members.

Soon afterward, I got copied on an e-mail from another member of the Fellowship who, despite their own anger at the action taken by the Board, reminded us that the board is made up of “good people,” doing what they felt best for the Fellowship.

I couldn’t agree more.  I like the people on the Board, enjoy seeing them, have shared my stories with them and had them share their stories with me.  I’m not ready to discard our relationships based on one event.

On the other hand, I’m not ready to stop being self-critical just yet.  Yes, that’s right, I said self.  I am a member of the Fellowship, and any failure of it- whether by a member, the Board, or the group at large is also a failure of mine.  And, I am intensely self critical, as I think many UU’s are.  For myself, destructively so.  For the Fellowship, I hope, constructively so.

I hold us to an incredibly high standard.  It has taken me years to acknowledge, internally, that I am a member of a religious organization.  I detest religious organizations.  Abhor them.  They take the highest ideals of humankind, couple them with our darkest fears, then hold them all over our heads like an axe waiting to fall.

UU doesn’t do that.  At least it shouldn’t, and generally doesn’t.  There are no authoritarians, no priests ordained by God, no exorcisms of future governors, no promise of the meek inheriting the earth or of life ever after.

So it is with more than a little concern that I see the Board take such a strong position without fully vetting it within the membership.

That said, I don’t want anyone on the Board to resign.  I don’t want them to take the criticism personally.  And, I certainly don’t want to lose any friendships in this process.

What I do want, is for the Board, and the membership, to take a good hard look at where this fell apart and together come up with a plan to overcome it.  We can’t do that if anyone walks away from the table.

I consider myself an optimist- though this usually surprises people who know me the best.  Perhaps a little more accurately, I’ve describes myself as “an optimist, I’m just not happy about it.”  Or, knowing full well it is not a part of my constitution to be either content or happy, I continue to work towards that end none the less.

I know, I FEEL, the Fellowship has an opportunity to grow through this crisis and to take a great leap forwards- to open lines of communication not yet explored, to envision a future more inclusive, less threatened by ex-Lutheran ministers.  Or by change.

For those members of UUFF that have stumbled across my musings- I hope you have not been offended.  I do hope my streams of thought encourage some of your own- and perhaps somewhere downstream they can merge to create something substantially more enduring and wonderful than they did apart.

Of course, what’s a river without a little white water?

Read Full Post »

Mixed news for democracy

The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.  (Unitarian-Universalist Principle)

The past couple of weeks have proved to be mixture of ups and downs.

First, the phenomenal news of Barrack Obama’s election.  A black man, an intelligent-thoughtful man, president-elect.

Then, news of the Alaska senate and house races.  Stevens up, then down.  Young up (I know, explain that to me).  I’d have felt better seeing a convicted felon reelected to the Senate than the embarrassment otherwise known as Don Young going back to represent himself, certainly not Alaska, in the House.  Of course, Don’s day in court may still come.

But then, during the week in which we were all elated with the outcome of the national election, out of Fellowship comes news that our Director of Member Services had been forced to resign by our Board.

Today, almost a week and a half later, we still have no official reason for the resignation.  Of course, our new membership ceremony was today, and seeing how he had met with, welcomed, and assisted each of them in joining our Fellowship perhaps it wasn’t the time to announce why their decision was made.

Of course, for the many of us who found our Member Services Director compitent, firendly, caring, compassionate, knowledgeable, and passionate; we are left wondering how the Board made this decision.  Particularly, when it appears as though the Board was acting in a vacuum.

Now, at a time when our national Democracy appears to be rejuvenated, we have an action within our own Fellowship that threatens democracy at a very elemental level.  Questions need to be asked, and deserve to be answered.

Who initiated the action to remove our Director?

If meetings were held to evaluate our Director’s performance, why weren’t they open to the membership at large?

If the Board did not solicite thoughts from the membership, how can the Board say their action represents the membership?

Were members asked to participate based only on the size of their annual donation to the Fellowship?

Or perhaps based upon their longevity within the Fellowhip?

If the decision was not arrived at democratically, how does the Board reconcile itself with the Principles we bind ourselves to?

As I spent my Friday evening at the Fellowship, listening to live folk music at a “Coffeehouse” to raise money for our youth group to attend, I pondered these questions, and more.

I watched friends come and go, some on the board, some not.  I spoke briefly with people who had been touched deeply by our Director, and had joined and grown in our Fellowship in no small part due to his efforts.

We spoke of the weather.  Of music.

I didn’t raise the issue of the Director’s dismissal.

And neither did they.

But the anger is there.  And thats good, because we’ll need it.  We’ll need it to remind our Board of the UU principles, that our congregation acts as a democracy.  That in order to enact democracy the Board needs to act with transparency and equanimity, giving voice to all our members, not just the few who socialize with the Board.

In the meantime, it may be time we elected our recently resigned Director to the recently opened seat on the Board.

Read Full Post »

and exactly where was God?

I came across this article today as I was reading the news.

13 Year Old Girl Confirmed Dead

Now, tell me, exactly where was God?

-

Perhaps he was in the shower when she was raped.

Her crime was being raped by 3 men.

Or using the bathroom when they found her guilty of adultery.

When she reported the rape to the militia who control Kismayo, Somalia, she was charged with fornication (adultery)

Maybe in the middle of catching a Pat Robertson newscast while she was convicted.

and sentenced to death by stoning.

At 13.

At 13.

Maybe he was cheering on his football team while she was prepared for her sentence.  Everyone knows god picks favorites.

Kicking and screaming in terror, the girl was carried into the stadium.

Reading the last, suspenseful chapters of the DaVinci Code.

1,000 onlookers watched as her hands and legs were forcefully bound

Just possibly he turned away, unconcerned because she wasn’t an American.

13 year old  Aisha Ibrahim Duhulow was buried up to her neck and a cape was placed over her head, leaving only her face exposed.

Or a Christian.

50 men hurled stones at her face from the truckload unloaded earlier that day.

I wonder if he flinched, just a little, as the first stone struck.

According to onlookers, 3 times nurses were instructed to check whether she was still alive.

Or went back to talking United States foreign policy with George W. Bush.

They pulled the teen from the ground,

Not once.

declared she was still alive

Not twice.

and put her back in the hole for the stoning to continue.

But three times.

-

Now, pray tell me, where was God?

-

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Read Full Post »

Playin Alaskan

I’ve been pointed to two good guest columns on Sarah Palin this week by Alaskan writers Seth Kantner, author of “Ordinary Wolves” and Nick Jans, author of “The Last Light Breaking”.

Take the time to check the columns out, both are honest reactions of observant, thinking Alaskans to Sarah and her fundamentalist, faux Marge from Fargo accent, lets develop Alaska so its just like everywhere else shtick.

Seth Kanter “That Sarah Palin is one unreal Alaskan“.

Nick Jans “Sarah Palin: The view from Alaska“.

Read Full Post »

more palinguage- including a new favorite

Some new quotes.  This one has to be me favorite.

Jesus was a community organizer. Pontius Pilate was a Governor.

Read Full Post »