ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY JUSTIN WELBY ON THE RADIO

CHRISTIANS are being killed in Africa as a consequence of liberal attitudes towards homosexuality in the United States and Britain, the Archbishop of Canterbury suggested on Friday.

Speaking on LBC radio about his opposition to same-sex marriage, he said: "I've stood by gravesides in Africa of a group of Christians who had been attacked because of something that had happened far, far away in America."

Good grief! I find the archbishop's words astonishing. Is Justin Welby saying that Americans with "liberal attitudes" about gay sexuality are complicit in murder?

Clarifying his comments on the mass grave, he said: "What was said was that 'If we leave a Christian community in this area' - I am quoting them - 'we will all be made to become homosexual, so we are going to kill the Christians.' The mass grave had 369 bodies in it, and I was standing with the relatives. That burns itself into your soul - as does the suffering of gay people in this country."

A deep tragedy, indeed and a sight surely never to be forgotten.  Where was the mass grave?  Do the murderers speak truthfully about the reason for the mass killing?  Is it right to take the words of murderers on the reason for the killings and, on that basis, refuse justice and equality to the LGTB members of the Church of England?

"I was in the South Sudan a few weeks ago and the church leaders there were saying: 'Please do not change what you are doing because then we could not accept your help. And we need your help desperately.' And we have to listen to that."

I have news for the archbishop: Diocese to diocese and parish to parish relationships continue between Episcopal churches and African Anglican churches, despite the rants of homophobic African bishops about the practices of the Episcopal Church.  Policies of justice and equality for LGTB Episcopalians have been implemented, even as TEC and African churches continue to work together. The ABC seems to think "bash the Americans" is good church policy. I don't know. Maybe it works for him.

"What was said was that 'If we leave a Christian community in this area' - I am quoting them - 'we will all be made to become homosexual, so we are going to kill the Christians.' The mass grave had 369 bodies in it, and I was standing with the relatives. That burns itself into your soul - as does the suffering of gay people in this country."

Why not lay the blame squarely where it belongs, on the murderers and leaders who pass and implement draconian laws that cause great suffering and even death for LGTB people in their countries?  Why  blame Americans with "liberal attitudes"?

Asked whether he could imagine a day when two people of the same sex married in the Church of England, he said: "I look at the scriptures, I look at the teaching of the Church, I listen to Christians round the world, and I have real hestitations [sic] about that. "

He added, however: "I am incredibly uncomfortable about saying that. I really don't want to say no to people who love each other, but you have to have a sense of following what the teaching of the Church is. We can't just make sudden changes."

"Sudden changes?" Where has he been for the last 20 years?

More from Archbishop Welby on the broadcast, which runs for nearly an hour.

Rev Welby’s callers included former Tory MP Ann Widdecombe, who asked him whether the Church does or does not approve of homosexuality. The Archbishop told her drily: “How unsurprised I am by that question, I can't imagine.

“I just said the Church is quite clear that sex outside marriage is wrong, and marriage has been understood as a man and woman. That seems to be a fairly clear statement.

“I'm not going to pull my punches on that. I think I'm right, you think I'm wrong. We differ.”

Where's the love in saying no to marriage or a blessing to two people of the same sex who love each other? Where's the love in saying to gay priests that they can never marry and must always remain celibate?

It seems to me that unless and until the office of Archbishop of Canterbury is separate from the office of "primus inter pares" of the Anglican Communion, LGTB members of the Church of England will continue to be held hostage without justice and equality because of homophobic attitudes of certain African bishops.

"LONGING TO TAME ME"

There is a remarkable moment in Elena Ferrante’s novel "The Lost Daughter" when the narrator, a middle-aged professor of literature, recalls a scene from her married life. She has just quarrelled with her husband, and wants to run from the house, “forget it and forget everything.” Her two young daughters enter the kitchen. One of them, Bianca, picks up an orange and a knife, hands them to her mother, and asks her to peel the fruit. Make a snake, she says. The girls sit in front of their mother, quietly expectant. “I felt their gazes longing to tame me,” the narrator recalls...

From a book review in The New Yorker by James Wood of another book by Jenny Offill, titled Dept. of Speculation.  I'm not sure whether non-subscribers can read it in its entirety.

Although I wanted children very much, the reality of mothering came hard for me once the children arrived. I was not a natural, and, though I did my best, I always thought I fell short in many ways. And yes, there were times when I fantasized about running away.

When I read the words “I felt their gazes longing to tame me...”, I gasped, because they describe quite well a thread that runs throughout my entire life (from my perspective) of other people wanting to tame me.

This morning, I told Grandpère about my seemingly life-long resistance to taming.  He laughed, but I had the impression that he thought I needed taming, though he denied any attempts to tame me.  I guess it depends upon one's point of view, because I consider him to be the main tamer who tries to tame my inner lioness, at least since my children are grown.  Still, I admit the possibility that the old lioness is yet in need of taming.  I will buy the two books, because the writers seem like kindred spirits.

DEAR SEN VITTER - GEORGE W BUSH DID IT, TOO!

Fox News and friends, including Sen David Vitter (R-LA), are freaking out over President Obama's extension by a few days of the deadline for the sign-up period for health insurance through the Affordable Care Act. Once again, Republicans demonstrate signs of impaired memory about the rollout of Medicare Part D under President George W Bush.

Below is the text of my letter to Sen David Vitter in response to his recent email suggesting that I send him my ideas on Obamacare.

Dear Sen. Vitter,

Your recent email on Obamacare is nothing but a load of malarkey.  If you see those words as acceptable, you must really think I'm stupid.  After a bad start, Obamacare is doing exactly what it's supposed to be doing.  Perhaps your memory is not entirely clear about the rocky beginning and the extension of the deadline in the rollout of Medicare Part D under President George W. Bush.

'In May of 2006, just days before the end of open enrollment, President Bush took administrative action to waive “penalty fees for very low-income seniors and people with disabilities who sign up late” and allowed “the same impoverished beneficiaries to sign up for Medicare drug coverage until Dec. 31.”

“In other words, you can apply after May 15th without penalty,” Bush told seniors during an event in Florida. “And that’s important for low-income seniors to understand.”

Republicans seem to have selective memory recall about the periods in recent history when they were running the show.  Why not spend your time and our tax dollars doing something useful, such as helping the uninsured in Louisiana obtain health insurance, rather than repeatedly harping on the evils of the Obama administration?  The constant reiteration of the same old, same old is beyond tiresome.

Thank you for your attention.

LONG WHINE - PART 2

After my adventure-filled day shopping as told in Long Whine - Part 1, we headed home, where I hoped to find peace for the rest of the day.  Alas, it was not to be.

The wireless on my router worked well to connect to the internet on my laptop when I was still served by my previous provider, but, after it was disconnected, I downloaded the router CD onto the laptop, and I was not able to access the internet.  What now?  I downloaded the CD again and still no connection.

In desperation, I called my son and told him what I'd done and asked what could have gone wrong.  He was puzzled and said the connection should have worked.  After thinking a bit, he asked me if the antenna button was turned on.  I did not know there was such a thing as an antenna button on the laptop, and I had no idea where it was.  He said I should look on the front of the laptop.  At first, I saw only a red light, but, when I looked closer, there was a small switch.  When I slid the switch to the right, the red light changed to blue, and I was able to connect.  What I've written sounds simpler and less time-consuming than the reality, which dragged on for a couple of stress-and-frustration-laden hours. 

In between failure and success with the computer, I took a break to arrange the curly willow branches I mentioned in my earlier post.  The branches were too tall for the vases and needed to be clipped.  Out came the wire cutters to cut a number of branches.  As some were too thick for the wire cutters, I had to saw them with a knife.  Nothing is ever as simple as expected, but, in the end, I was pleased with the minimalist effect.

Finally, I settled down with a glass of wine to test the computer connection, all the while fearing that, as luck would have it that day, I'd be thrown offline at any moment.  To my great relief the connection held.  Around 11:15 PM, I decided it was bedtime, so I shut down the computer, and, when I reached to plug in the laptop to charge the battery, I knocked over my half-full glass of red wine on the carpet.  Oy!  Not bedtime yet after all!

After blotting up all possible liquid with paper towels, I continued the clean-up with my ever-handy bottle of Resolve Carpet Cleaner, with not much hope that it would do the tough job of removing the red wine stain.  After much rubbing and scrubbing, I called it a night and finally went to bed.

The next morning, when I examined the area I could still see where the wine had spilled, so I rubbed and scrubbed again.  Later in the day, when the area had dried, I could not see stain marks, so I moved the chair and the magazine rack back into place.  I haven't looked closely again, because there's nothing more I can do if there are remnants of stain, except call in the professionals.
 
Grandpère's evening was no better.  When he drove to his meeting down the bayou, he went to the wrong house and got stuck in the mud in the driveway.  The owner of the house was kind enough to tow him out, but he was most embarrassed.

End of whine.  I don't know if  I feel better now that I've written about my woes, but it is done.

FEAST OF THE ANNUNCIATION

"The Virgin of the Annunciation" by Fra Angelico

O Blessed One

Mother of God, O holy one,
Inside your body, the Word made flesh,
As an infant suckled at your breast.
The God-child, cared for gently, lovingly,
Grew in wisdom and in grace.

Mother of God, what did you know?
Were you sad? Were you fearful?
Midst the joy of family life,
Did you feel a piercing in your heart?
O blessed Mary, pray for us, sinners all.

June Butler (7/17/07)

Collect of the Day: The Annunciation of Our Lord

Pour your grace into our hearts, O Lord, that we who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus Christ, announced by an angel to the Virgin Mary, may by his cross and passion be brought to the glory of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

(Book of Common Prayer)

TRICKSTERS AND DECEIVERS

"Americans for Prosperity", the well-funded conservative group that has been attacking Democrats in battleground states over the health care reform law, put out TV ads Monday against Sens. Mary Landrieu (D-LA) and Mark Udall (D-CO).

"But what's notable about the ads is what they aren't: A personalized story of someone who's been negatively affected by Obamacare, the kind of verifiable set of facts that can be checked -- and rebutted, as happened with a recent AFP ad that led to significant backlash from the fact-checking community."

Watch the ad. I've seen it more times than I can count. The new tactic for anti-Democratic campaign ads by AFP (think Koch brothers) is to include no facts that can be checked. When I saw the video for the first time, I was caught off guard until the very end, when the woman instructs viewers to call Sen. Mary Landrieu's office to tell her about the horrors of Obamacare. My counter-suggestion to people in Louisiana is to call Landrieu's office and tell her you approve of Obamacare as a stopgap until we adopt a single-payer health plan for the entire country.

The amount of money being spent by the Koch brothers and their ilk is incredible this early in the election game. I hope viewers will become bored and weary of the ads and tune out.

ANNIVERSARY OF THE ASSASSINATION OF ÓSCAR ROMERO

Archbishop Oscar Romero - Tobias Haller

Peace is not the product of terror or fear. Peace is not the silence of cemeteries. Peace is not the silent result of violent repression. Peace is the generous, tranquil contribution of all to the good of all. Peace is dynamism. Peace is generosity. It is right and it is a duty.
(Óscar Romero, Archbishop of San Salvador, El Salvador, January 7, 1978)

Romero was shot to death on March 24, 1980 while celebrating holy Mass at a small chapel near his cathedral, the day after he gave a sermon in which he called for soldiers as Christians to obey God's higher order and to stop carrying out the government's repression and violations of basic human rights. According to an audio-recording of the Mass, he was shot moments after the homily, which he had concluded with an improvised pre-Eucharistic prayer thanking God (the homily in the Roman Catholic Rite more or less signifies the end of the Liturgy of the Word and the beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist or Mass of the Faithful). It is believed that his assassins were members of Salvadoran death squads, including two graduates of the U.S.-run School of the Americas. This view was supported in 1993 by an official U.N. report, which identified the man who ordered the killing as Major Roberto D'Aubuisson, who later founded the Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA), a political party which came to power in 1989 and still rules today. Rafael Alvaro Saravia, Roberto D'Aubuisson's driver, was found liable in connection with the murder by a U.S. court in 2004.

Collect of Oscar Romero and the Martyrs of El Salvador, Archbishop of San Salvador, 1980

Almighty God, you called your servant Oscar Romero to be a voice for the voiceless poor, and to give his life as a seed of freedom and a sign of hope: Grant that, inspired by his sacrifice and the example of the martyrs of El Salvador, we may without fear or favor witness to your Word who abides, your Word who is Life, even Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be praise and glory now and for ever. Amen.

Tobias Haller blogs at In a Godward Direction.

UPDATE: A Facebook friend sent me the link to a fine poem, Say "No" to Peace, that compliments San Romero words on peace.  The first verse is below; here's the link to the entire poem.

Say "no" to peace if what they mean by peace is
  the quiet misery of hunger,
    the frozen stillness of fear,
      the silence of broken spirits,
        the unborn hopes of the oppressed.

"FLURRY" - A POEM

                 Flurry

Small flakes
barely worthy of the polysyllabic
description: precipitation,
brief interruption
of dull, unremarkable, overcast day,
undecided wisps, erratic flight
set light
crystals dancing as if each to its’ own tune
without masterful direction,
dire orchestration
of epic arctic gale memorable, named.
Just a flurry to you, my love?
Flash of
anticipation, interest, slight worry
that outburst might be harbinger,
first stir,
of landscape changing emotional event
unwanted beyond storied thrills
passion spills
to spoil the comfort of an orderly life,
the fall exciting, landing rough.
Not enough,
scant dusting brushed away without consequence,
no weather alert set to scroll,
the toll
all mine in the storm that changes nothing real,
yet adds to drifts of longing built
in flurries.

(Marthe G. Walsh)

Spring has arrived here in south Louisiana.  Azaleas are coming into bloom but are not yet in full bloom.  I'll post pictures in a few days.  Thanks to Marthe for the poem that describes the scene of what is hoped by many to be the last gasp of a hard winter in northern climes.

THE EYE

Stained glass in doctor's office

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thess. 5:16-18)

Yesterday, the ophthalmologist reported that my macular degeneration has not progressed. Thus far, my vision is not affected, and I am immensely grateful.

Since St Paul says I must rejoice always and give thanks in all circumstances, I must also be thankful that I missed the exit off I-10 in New Orleans because it looked different because of road construction. I took the next exit and then the service road that I hope would be the same service road where my doctor's office was located. When I came to the end of the road at Clearview, I could see the service road I wanted just across the six lanes of traffic. In fact, I could see the very building that housed the office, but there was no direct way to get there from where I was. So I took the roundabout way, not the shortest route, as I found out later, and I finally arrived in the parking lot, only to find that the slots were all full. By then, I was late for my appointment, but, most important, I had to use the ladies facilities urgently. (I know, TMI!) In desperation, I parked in a slot for the handicapped and ran to the ladies on the ground floor of the building. Desperate situations call for desperate measures.

Afterward, I went back to the lot to look for an empty parking spot to move my car from the handicapped slot. A woman was just backing out, so I rushed to my car and prayed that no one would take the place before I got there, and my prayers were answered.

Also, I must rejoice that after I left the doctor's office, when I paid another visit to the ladies I scraped my arm on the sharp edge of the doorway and began to bleed copiously. The injury was only a surface wound, but my aged skin is like tissue paper and tears and bruises easily. After I staunched the flow, I applied a band-aid from the supply I always carry with me, and it was home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

POEM FOR ST PATRICK'S DAY - MARTHE G. WALSH

                                      Just In Case

There’s a leprechaun in my tea – seriously,
a pale green porcelain figurine tucked between
the bags of shredded leaves, no cane on which to lean,
but clearly winking, conspiratorially.

Surprised, read the side of the box – the purveyors
of serenity by the cup appear to think
offering “fine collectibles” will make me drink
ever more of their product, reward conveyors
of mulch as beverage with a brand loyalty
driven by some obsessive need to have all twelve
characters in the series, but they troll and delve
into the psyche at their own risk, pointlessly.

This is no secret decoder ring, no cartoon
hero-movie-marketing-tie-in appealing
to six-year-old susceptible to the squealing
delight of laugh track peers, must-have-now-coming-soon
episode of consumption programming disguised
as entertainment, fantasy wish fulfillment
key to an economy built on discontent,
no precious-memory-by-kitsch niche plan franchised.

The little green men may, might, indeed, be coming
for me, but not through my tea or the Lucky Charms
that would only have set off sugar shock alarms
had they been allowed in deprived youth, and numbing
foiled entirely by sensible nutrition
considerations, thrift, parental volition
dismissing all things magical, mythical, missed
as useless to ponder as the frog left un-kissed.

Not prone to hoard, crave or worship acquisition,
put the elf on the shelf, nod to superstition.

(Marthe G. Walsh)