Getting Loose

Amores Perros

  We saw it the other day.  I liked it.  I cannot believe how complex it was.  Three stories, all involving dogs (as well as the overarching theme involving a dog-like concept about love) intertwined in ways that you did not see it coming.  Someone had to sit down and do some serious screenplay writing to come up with this Spanish film.  Nevertheless, I liked it.  If you want an Alzheimer's chaser, go rent it.

It Never Gets Easier

   I have to pick myself up by the psychological scruff of my neck to do three things. 

   One was back in seminary at SMU.  And that was going to Chapel.  Without fail, I had 20 other things I needed to do other than that.  But I was always glad I went.

   Hospital visits.  They always take a lot of time, and again there are so many irons I have in the fire, that I can always find a reason not to . . . but invariably I am the one who gets the blessing by doing the visiting.  That has happened so often that you'd think I'd learn by now.

   Number three--going to the gymn.  I hate it.  In fact for some reason I woke up at 5:15 this morning and went in order to get it over with.  I usually go late at night sometime after 8 p.m.  But last night I was thoroughly and completely in a state of frustration trying to hook up a new amplifier/tuner I had bought for our home theatre system.  It was enraging not having the logic go the way I thought it should.  At one point things began to work OK, and then like a dew in the morning, it disappeared.  I eventually got it fixed in a fashion by midnight, but I never, never thought it would EVER take THAT long.  All of this is a long-winded way of saying that I missed working out last night (I usually go 3 times a week) . . . but . . .  when I go, I always feel better afterwords.

Elders

   Ministry is hard. Ministry is tough. Ministry is only for the called. If you are not called, you will never survive.

   I remember a few years ago attending a seminar in Austin, Texas, for Sr. Pastors of large congregations (those that had over 1,000 members—I’ve pastored two of those critters). And the seminar leader stated point blank that for clergy, churches are toxic environments.

   I was shocked by the statement. I wanted to initially shout out "No! That’s not true." But it is true. For the last couple of days I was at a retreat up in Anderson County for United Methodist Elders (they are like priests in the Catholic or Episcopal church. Most of them, i.e. Catholic, Anglican/Episcopal, and United Methodist clergy were first ordained deacons. And the second order is presbyter/priest/elder).

   At any rate, I got to be with some elders who were feeling wounded by their churches. I’ve known these guys for over 35 years. I’ve seen them go from fresh, wet-behind-the-ears, enthusiastic, excited-for-ministry types, to men who cannot wait to retire. It some ways it is so sad. So very sad. They feel put upon not just by the local congregation, but also by the lack of support they feel from the hierarchy.

   Probably all of us went into the ministry at some unconscious level believing or hoping that we would find love in a way we so deeply craved but could never articulate. We experienced that love in an infantile way in the congregations in which we grew up, none of us really understanding about the politics of the system. They have sacrificed, given 110%, and often were paid very low wages commensurate with the education and training they received [it takes an elder on average 11 years to become fully credentialed (educational and ecclesiastical requirements) after high school graduation].

   And it is not just my generation, I have heard horror stories about men who were two generations ahead of me, and how the system finally ground them down. Heck, back in the very earliest days of Methodism, the average age of a circuit rider was 35. And he had to be unmarried. Circuit riders tended to burn out very early and were superannuated (retired) somewhere in their 40's as a whole.

   There has to be a whole lot of trust for an elder to tell you what is really in his (or her) heart, for we are all so adept at playing games and smiling as if everything is all right 100% of the time. But that image is so false, and we all know it. But we don’t dare let on that things could possibly be less than perfect.

New CD from Eric Metaxes

Here is the newest CD album cover that I designed (with a little help from one of our sons ) for Mr. Metaxes.  I got the idea from Tony Morgan's blog.  What do you come up with?

The Ton-Bon

   We got some terrible news tonight.  Tahnee has had a seizure.   Her current owners called us in a state of panic.  We had never witnessed that behavior in Tahnee, and it must have been very upsetting.  My wife and I both agreed, that if her new owners came to the conclusion that Tahnee needed to be put down, we'd offer to take her back and nurse her and do what we could for her.  There is no doubt in my mind that she is loved by her new family.  Their children play and play and play with her.  She never has had a lot of sense to know when she should stop and rest.  She lives life intensely, to put it mildly.  We've asked to be kept up to date on her condition.

A Stinging Indictment

   One of the most famous films to have ever been produced in Spain is called The Spirit of the Beehive (El Espíritu de la Colmena). It is an utterly fascinating film. Deep, deep symbolism, and I will not try to summarize it here, but suffice it to say some elements involved are Frankenstein’s monster, little girls, a belief in the power of stories and spirits, a remote village in rural Spain, hope in the face of intolerable situations, and a looking at life and wondering if we are much better than the bees who work and work and produce and produce, and then drop dead. What is there to life?

   Many of the actors appearing in the film could not make sense of the script, but they needed the money and followed the director’s direction. Even the film board under Franco could not make sense of the film, allowed it to be produced believing that it would bomb at the box office. But people started making connections between Franco—Frankenstein, the role of a freedom fighter, etc. I was shocked to see that it had been filmed in color. I think it probably would have been far more powerful in black and white.

Lenten Fasting

Recently a parishioner asked me about fasting and Lent. Here is part of my reply:

   If you are interested in trying this discipline, pick out one meal a week, and do it.

   When I first started to fast, I thought I was gonna die I was so hungry. But after mastering one meal a week, then pick a different day and do a second meal a week. What I do is to pick 2 days a week. I fast from midnight until 3 p.m. That is 15 hours. I drink lots of non-caloric liquids during about 9 of those 15 hours (hopefully, I'm sleeping during at least the other 6 hours). I do that on two non-consecutive days. I usually will also break the fast before I allow anyone to discover what I am doing. I try to make it that secretive . . . sort of like what Jesus says about prayer . . . same section from Matthew.

   However, this is not really a Lenten discipline for me, as I attempt to do this 12 months a year.

Electronic Fasting

   Yes, Lent is the time for fasting. But the fasting at my house recently took an interesting turn.

   At about the same time, my computer modem, router and my tuner and the box that is between my TV and the satellite went out. For about three days, all I had access to the outside world was the radio. I got to thinking, so this is what it was like back during the 1940's and before. Radio got boring fast, and I read more than I usually do, and I also went to bed earlier.

   All in all it was not that bad of an experience. I don’t think I am as "hooked" on the electronic stuff as some people are. I could survive without it. It is not mandatory for my life. But it does add interesting portals when everything is working OK.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

   Remember thou art dust, and to dust thou shalt return.   

   I said that to quite a few people last night as I dipped my thumb into the ashes and oil mix.  Many looked at me deeply in the eyes.  Some said thank you.  Some nodded their head as to acknowledge the validity of the statement. 

   There is something very powerful about touch.  A sea of humanity.  Each with their own issues and problems.  And yet before the altar of the Lord we were on a common footing.  All of us mortals with different agendae, different tugs pulling us in disparate directions.

   We are now into the journey of Lent.  Once again, I will attempt to modify what I eat.  40 days from now, we will see how successful I will be.  But there is something about living the journey, walking the trail that leads to passion and triumph.

Birthday Dining

   Today was my wife's birthday.  So I took her out to eat.  That is what she enjoys the best for her birthday.  We went to a fantastic little restaurant that was superb.    We split a wonderful salad (Salade de Chevre chaud aux Pignons et Miel de Romarin, Petales de Tomates confites . . .  are you suitably impressed?), had a great cream of leek soup (I won't even try to print out all the French names), I had a rack of lamb, she had red snapper, and I had a delectable pastry dessert made with hot caramelized pears.  We thoroughly loved it.  I recommend it! 

   But I was bummed.  My wife told me I could not pronounce French very well.  Zut alors!