I Can See Clearly Now.

A friend of mine asked me a few weeks ago, "What're you doing for fun?". Odd question, that. My concept of fun has changed a bunch over the years. When I was in college, I'd've probably told you that whatever everyone else thought was fun was what I thought was fun. I mean, I wouldn't have actually said that whatever everyone else was fun was what I thought was fun, but I doubt I would have bothered to actually think about what I really liked. I pretty much did what everyone else did: drank a lot, shot pool, "hooked-up" (or tried to). I wasted a lot of years checking off items on an ersatz bucket list that didn't bring any real contentment. Don't get me wrong: I had some genuinely good times, and have gotten to know a lot of wonderful people; it's just that I'd've been a lot happier if I'd spent less time in bars, and more time reading, or walking in the woods, or drawing pictures of stuff. C.S. Lewis described the feeling of a soul tricked into trading the real joy of living in Christ for the decreasing return one gets chasing shadows in The Screwtape Letters: "I now see that I spent most of my life in doing neither what I ought nor what I liked". So, what am I doing for fun? Today, I went to church, washed windows with Lady Di, did some laundry, and watched an episode of "Downton Abbey" on DVD. And it was fun.

Poured, Not Dunked.

Deron and Beth's boy got baptized at St. Jude's yesterday. Lady Di and I made a point of going to the late service to be there. Father Floyd Finch presided over the ceremony. He's been among the visiting priests subbing for us while we look for a new rector. Father Floyd's been introducing babies into their new communities for a little minute: he presided over my daughter, Caroline's, baptism 21 years ago. Father Floyd's a round, hearty "Friar Tuck"-looking priest, and he looks about like he did back in 1990(Caroline does not).

I'm Your Handyman, Redux.

Over the weekend, I was elected by our church vestry as junior warden. Even though the Canons of the Church and of the Diocese don't distinguish much between the duties of the senior and junior wardens, by tradition the senior warden is concerned more about polity, and the junior warden more about making sure the doors and toilets are working properly. Our last Junior Warden, Paul, did an outstanding job. He called the position "a glorified handyman"Ah, the handymen through T.V. history: Schneider from One Day at a Time.
George from Newhart.
Eb from Green Acres.
I'm not even as "ept" as the most inept of these. I'm not handy. I don't build things, and I don't generally fix things (when I was in private practice, I used to be able to fix traffic tickets, but I can't even do that anymore). So why, one could reasonably ask, would any rational parish want me as the Junior Warden of my church? Well, I do know a fair amount about the Episcopal Church, and I care about it a bunch. I also care a lot about my church, St. Jude's. Maybe I'm supposed to interpret the position broadly, as the Canons of the parish and Diocese do. As to the nuts and bolts? A couple of my friends, Gale and Leonard, promised to help (and and I made sure Paul kept his keys).

Whale of a Sale.

St. Jude's Episcopal Church does a number of pretty cool things in and for the community. The turkey dinner they have at Thanksgiving for folks that aren't able to put together their own feasts is paid for, in part, by a big yardsale: October's Whale of a Sale.

Parish folks bring carloads of stuff in varying stages of abuse and set it out. Hey, one man's trash is another man's treasure, and all that. Volunteers set it out and price it. This is the calm before the storm.

Talk about bargains! And it'd go down from there. Diane had to talk me out of bringing a bunch of stuff home.


'Course, not every Cinderella got a prince. These brave little toasters didn't make anybody's dance card.


Then there was cleanup. Lookie, there! It's like nothing ever happened (but it did. St. Jude's got a thousand clams or so to prove it).

Freedom.

You gotta love the Freedom speech from Braveheart. In his bid to obtain Scotland a measure of autonomy from England, William Wallace was ultimately arrested and put to death. He gave up his personal freedom for the idea of relative corporate freedom for his countrymen. By not giving up his principles, Wallace was free, even as he was in prison. As the English poet, Richard Lovelace, wrote, "Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage". Make no mistake: jail is not a good place to be. The Apostle Paul urged slaves to get loose if they could, , even though that's not what he did himself when he had the chance to run. Paul did take advantage of relative_freedom_in_jail to write letters and give instructions to the early church.

Before Paul, the Psalmist sang of the freedom of walking_in_the_Law. Yep, that's the same law that Paul said we were freed from". Confusing? You betcha. In the end, William Wallace and Saint Paul were on the same page. Figure out what's important to you, and live that way as completely as you can. That's what'll set you free: Truth.

Pilate Lite.

The Christian Church is in the midst of Holy Week. Holy Week starts on Palm Sunday, and includes Maundy_Thursday (where the Disciples wouldn't give Jesus a little company on his last night as a mortal, through Jesus' crucifixion on Good_Friday, ending finally on Easter_Sunday, where Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. A tradition in the Episcopal (and other) churches, is to include an informal re-enactment of the Passion by assigning members of the parish to read the different roles found in the Gospel accounts of Holy Week. I've been been Peter, the Centurion, and even Jesus before, but the role I best understand is the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate, who, bowing to the will of the mob, reluctantly sentenced Jesus to death. I've been Pilate three or four times, and I get him. In "Peculiar Treasures", Frederick_Buechner describes Pilate as a tired bureaucrat nearing the end of his career in the backwater of the Roman Empire. He's not a bad person, really, he's just looking forward to retirement, and not strong enough to do the right thing. This year's lectionary has Luke's account of the Passion. It's okay, but John's version has the best interchange between Pilate and Jesus (check it out John 18, verses 28-40, HERE, which contains the classic nihilist line "what is truth?"). Any way, Luke's Pilate is not as interesting. Call it "Pilate Lite".