Wanna go suck tailpipes with me?

Where are my colleagues when I need to share some righteous indignation? In the summer people around the congregation scatter into their own Sabbath taking rhythms. I support that movement. However, I have some righteous indignation to share and the people with whom I usually engage in such a discussion are either on vacation or gone for the day.

Apparently, the United States Supreme Court will rule on a case that will dictate whether the Environmental Protection Agency and States can regulate carbon dioxide emissions from motor vehicles. The debate in principle sounds reasonable. Who gets to regulate and under what auspices seems like a reasonable discussion. Just because the premise is reasonable does not mean the arguments presented are reasonable.

Take this quote on the subject from an article from the Associated Press today:

"Fundamentally, we don't think carbon dioxide is a pollutant, and so we don't think these attempts are a good idea," said John Felmy, chief economist of the American Petroleum Institute, a trade group representing oil and gas producers.

Okay Johnny, please join me on 41st Street in Sioux Falls Saturday afternoon, and we can go on a bender where we suck on tailpipes of the idling cars on the busiest street in South Dakota.

Maybe this tailpipe treat isn't as big a deal in Sioux Falls as it would be in Manhattan (New York City, not Kansas), but PLEASE, tell us HOW carbon dioxide is not a pollutant. If carbon dioxide is not a pollutant, why do we need to exhale? If my science is bad, blame my teachers. Kidding, but John Felmy hardly seems like a reliable source, either.

The Associated Press went to a crappy source for a quote on this one.

Have a happy.

Elihu

Ready to share a word?

By the time I offer a sermon next Saturday for a wedding, my preaching hiatus will have reached nearly five weeks. For some of my colleagues serving in large congregations, this is no big deal--a typical homiletical lifestyle. For others, preaching becomes a weekly rhythm, rarely changed. I fall somewhere in between, but the Lent/Holy Week cycle challenges even the most adept preachers. About 9 weeks ago, I instinctively knew of my weariness of expression, lining up colleagues to share their gifts as exegetes and homileticians in order that I rest. I know that I rested: I forgot the process of sermon preparation. My mind finally stilled. This "stilling" took several days. As my wife, daughter and I walked with our friend in the Surrey County village of Guildford near the beginning of our respite, I took photographs of a church whose structure was altered because it inconvenienced a king. I had a sermon illustration in mind. My wife and friend told me to stop it. We were on holiday.

Stillness takes a long time. Physical stillness is difficult enough. Mental stillness ranks higher in difficulty. Only after two weeks of not preaching could my homiletical mind be stilled. This makes me wonder about North American Old Line Protestant worship. How can I receive the gifts of God if I know in my heart it takes me hours, sometimes many days, to become still to the point of reception? How can reception of God's grace occur in many neat packages that cannot last more than 60 minutes? I sometimes identify myself as a closet Roman Catholic, only because I know that in at least some expressions of the Mass, silence takes on as much importance as vocal prayer, music, even Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. Worship for me often becomes like hearing the adults who speak like a muffled brass instrument in a Charlie Brown television cartoon, "Wha wha wha whaaaaa." I know I sound like that cartoon adult as a worship leader. I seek a sacrament. Silence for me is sacramental. After the stillness I can be ready to receive, and possibly share a word.

Thursday evening I awakened from my rest from homiletical expression--gripped by the words of the Gospel of John, Jesus said "you did not choose me, but I chose you." I read this lesson at the South Dakota State Penitentiary to the St. Dysmas Prison Congregation. A powerful word--though I have heard that word many times, after the silence, it was like I heard it for the first time. With a moved spirit, I learned the pilot light of soul was not extinguished, I was ready to receive and share a word.

Surely my next sermon will sound like the creakiness of muscles and joints after a long night's sleep, but the dawning of a new day offers a new opportunity to live in the grace of God and give in the grace of God.

Elihu

Influence weary

Still living in the haze of anesthesia, I pull myself toward the computer. My hiatus from the blog grew out of a state of weariness from influence. Pastors, Michael Jordan, the guy in About Schmidt, they all linger in their working worlds after their "retirement" because they miss the cameraderie. They miss the life of influence brokerage. There may come a day where I find myself hanging around gatherings of fat, old, nostalgic pastors hoping to peddle my illusion of influential wares.

Since April 24th, when I preached the sermon and shared a benediction, I rested any desire to influence others. Eleven days in England with friends and family without any expectation of leadership, wisdom, or pastoral presence. Seven days of surgery and recovery. It took me that long to see the unhealthy grip on my existence that the church and I have placed on myself. The Church for me has failed to be about relationships for me--with God and with others--I serve an instititution--and my faith is challenged.

Where is the soul care?

My pastoral care professor spoke of this concept of soul care. I would love to sit in the office of my professor, sip a cup of tea, and talk about God's love, with no doubt about the presence of that love.

I long for that presence.

Elihu

I lost my connection with a convicted felon

Yesterday I replaced my expiring South Dakota Driver's License. In renewing my identity in this state, not only did I lose the photo that could have gained me access to a Charles Manson look alike contest, but I also lost a conversation piece. No longer will I hold a license with the name of a convicted felon as governor (William J. Janklow). I lost the name of a convicted felon, but I gained the name of a governor who signed the most draconian state abortion law ever (M. Michael Rounds).

I'm sure Mississippi will give South Dakota a run for their money.

Maybe I lost one conversation piece. I suppose I gained a replacement conversation piece.

The South Dakota Driver's License intrigued me from the day I transferred my residence here. As I registered for my license five years ago, I did a double-take when I heard the request for the six dollar fee. Six dollars! Did that pay for the plastic, the photo, the paper of my form, the labor, my use of the parking lot and the use of the Minnehaha County Administration building? Really? Okay, if you insist. Inflation hit South Dakota since then. I paid eight dollars to carry a new license until April 28th, 2011.

The fun thing about yesterday and today involves participating in democracy. Yesterday I signed two petitions, one for legalizing prescription medical marijuana (destined for failure in South Dakota), the other for repealing a cell phone tax. Today I get to choose a mayoral candidate from a slate of 28 Republicans and 1 Democrat (a little hyperbole on the Republican side, but not much). Party affiliation for a mayoral candidate never seemed to be a concern. The mayoral office relates to infrastructure, not social policy. I don't mind the current offering of a Republican mayor. He has worked well in pushing infrastructure needs toward public awareness and implementation. But I will vote for the Democrat today, for the sake of some diversity on the final ballot.

It is a good day when I can participate in the democratic process.

Off to more Holy Weeking.

Elihu

I think I may have an OC problem...

Occasionally I use clips from movies or television shows to illustrate points in sermons. Sometimes I use movie clips to piss off people who think movies are inappropriate in church. This adds up to a lot of movies. Since August 2005, I have used clips in about one third of my sermons. Some of the movies have included:

Shipping News, Tortilla Soup, Dead Man Walking, Motorcycle Diaries, etc.

Recently I recalled that expanding my horizons on the film front might be a good idea, especially after my confirmation students in 2004 let me know in so many words that I needed to broaden my perspective of film in order to connect illustrations with a wider array of populations. My parents are old movie buffs, but I have not had the patience to watch old films. Realizing I needed to expand my horizons to the west and east, I tried a few older films out in the generational theory class I taught for adult education. I started with "From Here To Eternity" and "Singin' in the Rain." To the other side of the horizon, I consulted with a few middle and high school youth about what they enjoy watching. First of all, many of them said they did not have time to watch TV. But given ample time for reflection, many shows and movies blurted out. One show held common esteem--the O.C., a teen/family drama on FOX. I wanted to learn from the perspective of youth and how the show spoke to them. I was glad that I could rent the show, rather than pay 60 dollars for one season at Best Buy. I became increasingly glad after the first two episodes. I kept searching for something I could use in class or in a sermon, but to no avail. Then I started to care about the characters. Then I turned off a basketball game so I could watch an episode of The O.C.

Am I a sick man???

I like the show now, and I am headed back to Blockbuster so I can get another few hours of an O.C. fix met. I don't even know if the show is still on...

Before I go to bed, off to the web for more O.C. research.

Sleep tight!

Elihu

BTW, the other show that was recommended to me, Laguna Beach, I can't watch it. I would much rather watch the fake fake people in the O.C. than the real fake people in Laguna Beach. Just call me the next gourmet TV critic.

Chocolate Lab gets loose

Surprisingly, the chocolate lab residing in our house has never run away. We let him out to roam our yard without a fence or a leash. Because the dog wants to do nothing but please us, he stays close to home, doing his constitutional and sniffing routine. I have recently given him the screen name "CoDependentChocolateLab."

He was let outside this morning--occasionally we forget he's out there. Usually he sets his skinny butt on the front porch and checks out the world, waiting for us to remember his existence.

This day, the doggie decided to take off, and we frantically looked for him for an hour. His cousin--a black cocker spaniel living in Mankato, used to take off often, eating everything in his path. With his bloated belly dragging on the pavement, this blind dog crossed busy intersections all over town. I thought he was a cat with that many lives. Our lab was found a little over an hour after he was lost--happy to be back in the fold. We welcomed him with vanilla ice cream with a dollop of peanut butter on top.

Our pooch is taken for granted at times in this household, but we shall have a sad time when he is gone. He does nothing but love us and celebrate our prescence. He is a saint for tolerating our daughters poking his eyes and ears, pulling his tail and wrestling him to the ground. He is all love.

Not bad for my 30th birthday present.

Elihu

What is Lent for a pastor?

My writing has suffered once again during Lent.

One of my favorite scenes from The Simpsons involves the Simpson children lamenting having to stay inside. Marge suggests "why don't you play the game of Lent?" in a box dressed up like the game of Life. By your lack of laughter, I guess you had to be there...

Lent is a game for me. As a child, Lent was a tight rope--my family received a meal with plenty of soup and bread. Quantity was the goal in food during boyhood. Egad, but I had to go to church. My stomach won out in that game. The food was good.

Lenten services failed to arise in my yearly routine until college, when getting together with friends from Lutheran Campus Ministry seemed like a reasonable Wednesday evening activity--usually a Compline service or something similar.

When I arrived in South Dakota, I learned a new practice. Lent became a keeping up with the Jones' affair for pastors. I call this game: "How much can your Lent suck? My Lent sucks way more than your Lent!"

"I have 2 funerals and two extra worship services."

"Oh yeah, I see your funerals and worship services and raise you two extra Bible studies and a building addition project!"

Give me a break. I have never found Lent to be a time where spiritual growth is cultivated in my life, and usually I can't wait for Easter to be over. I suppose this is sacrilege coming from a pastor, but where is the joy in working myself to death? I certainly make some choices about how I use my time. And actually, the Presbyterians don't find special pride in beating themselves up during Lent--so it's a little bit better.

I have to hand it to my colleague and friend, Rev. Darth, who has invited the staff to come to worship with him on Monday and Wednesday mornings at Augustana College. I have found great peace in that worship service, and the grace of God permeated my hardened soul.

That makes a good Lent for me. Nothing like the Spirit of God dwelling in my being. I didn't have to do a thing except show up.

Elihu

The South Dakota Ignoramus

An ignoramus is not particular to the state of South Dakota. In whatever state you live, you could probably tell me about the ignorami surrounding you. The ignoramus in your midst might even write letters to the editor of your local newspaper. As I have noted before--I keep thinking there could not be another letter from the Argus Leader that would find its way into the line up.

I could not resist this letter.

A real head shaker.

I cannot make this stuff up.

Elihu

A good anniversary

I recently returned from my ancestral land in the Pacific Northwest. My daughter and I connected well with our kin--the result for me has been pure exhaustion. Despite traveling minus my wife, I felt at home. Mountains, trees and water provide a reorientation. I have yet to read Giants of the Earth in its entirety, but I know that one of the characters becomes disoriented when living on the prairie. I associate with that feeling--I appreciate the prairie. God has taught me to see the beauty. The people have been good to me. I have lived almost half my life in the Midwest--but this place can be profoundly disorienting. Is it the land? Is it the value system? I hold a strong desire to express what a sense of place means in a theological framework. How does God provide us a sense of place? What in our sense of place comes from the sinful self? I continue to experience renewed energy to explore the aforementioned questions (among many others) that keep me up at night. Literally. Although I was exhausted, I still read well into the night last night about the sense of place in the Pacific Northwest. I was glad to share with my parents the burning questions and the continuing discernment process of vocation.

On this day one year ago--I began publishing this blog. I have started probably hundreds of journals in my lifetime. I'm not sure if I have ever maintained this level of consistency in my lifetime. Maybe I'm growing up. I averaged just over one entry per week. I am thankful to be reconnected with my writing.

Elihu

Coming out of the fog visiting a new patch

After the Super Bowl, a difficult two weeks in the congregation, and concern over my grandmother's health, coherent thoughts escape me. Along with the city of Seattle, I am slowly coming out of a fog. For me, this move comes from necessity--God help me--I need a sermon tomorrow and a coherent thought would be nice.

Inspiration--a movement of the Holy Spirit--can lift the mind and soul out of a pit. This article inspired me. I appreciate that a nation has chosen to think creatively about a positive future without oil rather than dogma or platitudes. Here's to the Swedes--their cuisine may be milquetoast, but their ideas pique interest.

Speaking of platitudes, during his State of the Union address, GW Bush said the United States was "addicted to oil." Many conservative pundits, including George Will, accused this statement of being meaningless. Supposedly the Republican Party is committed to limited government, and even then their use of government is nonsensical at best. The sin of our government relates to an addiction to mammon. It's my sin as well. I find it difficult to let go of privilege when it means a better life for others. Oil is a prime example of a privileged commodity. Opening energy opportunities appears to me a democratic move. Though I prefer Hugo Chavez over George W. Bush at this juncture--it would be nice if they were both put out of business.

After Sunday's sermon, I get a break from preaching until Ash Wednesday. I am traveling to Seattle to be with my grandmother. She could live for a long time--but when the brain fails to work properly (as her brain health deteriorates), the person I have known my whole life may not be that person for much longer. The opportunity to invest in primary relationships cannot be overlooked. I pass on these investments often. Christ, have mercy.

That mercy needs to move over my homiletical work as well.

Peace,

Elihu

I can't watch

I have to seriously adjust my media patterns tomorrow.

No Seattle Times.
No Seattle Post-Intelligencer.
No Tacoma News-Tribune.
No ESPN Radio.
No ESPN.com.
No Sports Illustrated.
No CBS Sportsline.

At least for a week.

I even switched my home page to cbc.ca

I cut down on my sports intake over the past several months--but I can't even take a discussion of how the Seahawks blew it. It's gonna go down to zero.

I can't stand it.

Maybe I can catch up on my other reading.

I'll let you know how that goes.

A Depressed Elihu

Only Seattle Seahawk blog entry written by a Seattle area native in Sioux Falls, South Dakota?

Though I do not often write about sports on this blog, one look at my blogger profile reveals that I follow many teams--and I follow many of them closely. With the internet game feeds and Sirius, I don't feel like an exiled fan in the Northern Great Plains being forced to watch the Minnesota Vikings or Twins. These teams have nice followings, and they are compelling franchises--they are just not part of the fabric of who I am.

The Super Bowl for me this year takes me to an exciting place--Seattle has not had a major professional sports championship since the 1979 Seattle Sonics of the National Basketball Association. As a nine year old I remember running out in to the street and jumping up and down, glad for my favorite basketball players--Gus Williams, Jack Sikma, Dennis Johnson, Lonnie Shelton and Downtown Freddy Brown. The yellow and green t-shirt from that season is still alive, worn by brother Beaker's wife--though with a baby on the way, I'm not sure how much longer she'll be wearing that.

As a sports fan who reads sports publications and listens to sports radio (a lot less than I used to), coverage of Seattle area teams is often muted because the density of professional teams becomes less significant the farther west one moves on the U.S. map. West Coast games are missed by most of the country because often people in the Eastern and Central times zones are moving toward their beds rather than following a team from the west. This phenomenon provides the foundation for what is commonly called in public discourse "East Coast Bias." This entry is not a debate about ECB, only to provide background for what a Seattle fan might be experiencing these days.

I feel a mild euphoria these days--euphoric that a team I have followed since my childhood has made it to football's grandest stage. The euphoria is mild because the Seahawks are not in the highest echelon of my fanhood: this is how it breaks down in echelons:

Seattle Mariners/Washington Huskies/Kansas Jayhawks
Seattle Seahawks/Edmonton Oilers
Seattle Sonics

The euphoria comes from civic pride: the cartoon above depicts one kind of Seattle fan--I like it because it is the COMPLETE opposite of what kind of fan would be found in the Northern Great Plains (let alone anywhere else in the country). This makes me proud because the culture in which I was raised is distinctive and contributes to who I am. I wonder if I could ever move back to the Northwest because I wouldn't be different anymore...

I love hearing the stories about the futility of Seattle Seahawks and sports history. I love the stories about Seattle culture. I have particulary enjoyed being a Seattle area native the past two weeks. I have run around Sioux Falls looking for people with whom I can enjoy the game, share the excitement and beam some civic pride (a difficult venture here). Thank you to the friends who will share those moments with me. I'm not sure what they're getting into. I want my team to win the game only because even though I want to remain distinct as a native of the Pacific Northwest, I wish that somehow that Seattle will not always be seen as culturally or morally inferior. I'm not sure a football game can accomplish that--but when more people tune in to the Super Bowl than any other event during the year--the Super Bowl is as good a shot as any.

I talked with my 83-year old grandmother the other day--she said to me "I never gave up on the Seahawks." I can't say that I did, either, although following the Seahawks these days is more difficult considering my Sunday obligations... My grandmother and I watched many Seahawks games together over the years. This national stage allows me special reflection over relationships in my life and a means to relate and share. Sports have provided a context for my family to become closer--an entry point to other conversations about the stuff of life.

Regardless of the outcome, I will be on the phone with my siblings and family about the meaning of this game for weeks to come--we are all meaning-seeking creatures. This meaning-making creature is ready to enjoy the game.

Elihu

Here's to Sioux Falls, South Dakota

During today's normal morning routine, I breezed through the Seattle newspapers. Though I spent a few minutes looking for new stories I also looked for continuing coverage of the gay civil rights bill in Washington, and some hometown perspective on the State of the Union address. One of the lead stories in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer covered a group of folks who gathered at a local pub to watch the State of the Union address. This gathering involved one of three chapters in the Seattle/Tacoma area of Drinking Liberally, groups of left leaning folks who get together over an adult beverage and talk politics.

The Drinking Liberally website offers an interesting map of its 131 chapters--I thought there might be a 50-50 chance for a chapter in South Dakota. Even though South Dakota is generally a heavily red state, this is also the state that produced George McGovern and once had two Democrat U.S. Senators (although it was questionable whether either of them were truly Democrats--Tim Johnson just voted in favor of Scalito). I think this could be an organization I support--although as public figures and pastors who are not Episcopalian--I need to have a conference with the Pastor With Whom I Sleep to consider the consequences of being a part of such an organization. The other observation of the Drinking Liberally website is that moving west along Interstate 90 from Sioux Falls--there is not another Drinking Liberally chapter until reaching Spokane. There are also no other cities over 100,000 until Spokane along I-90, either (Billings, Montana is close). An interesting correlation.

Even though the glass will be empty this morning, I raise a glass to my town of residence, Sioux Falls, South Dakota! Thanks for at least hosting a Drinking Liberally chapter. That makes my remaining time in this state a little more comforting, even though I may never join the organization. The unfortunate factor is the lowering of my righteous indignation quotient about the one dimentional nature of South Dakota politics. Righteous indignation is much more enjoyable when the blacks and white contrasts are much more stark.

Here's to Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

Elihu

Obama in '08--on one condition

After seeing this picture I have to say that I would at least support Barack Obama for President in 2008. I will support him on one condition. If he delivers at State of the Union address, that he would not allow any of his supporters to give ANY standing ovations during his speech. This practice is annoying regardless of political persuasion. This practice should be banned. First Amendment, Shmirst Amendment.

I changed my mind after seeing this picture of the triune doofuses--three of the whitest, most privileged guys setting the course for the country. Where is the perspective?

My fear in supporting Obama (I'm writing as if my support actually means something--forgive me), is that if he loses he will become as politically insignificant as John Edwards or John Kerry. I liked Edwards better than Kerry from the beginning. Kerry is another privileged doofus. I couldn't bring myself to vote for him (and before any libs get all huffy, my non vote for Kerry didn't mean a damn thing in South Dakota--even more of a red state than those in the South--Bush is VERY popular here) Edwards had some good ideas, but little clout or experience. Where is he now and what effect does he have after losing on the Kerry presidential ticket? Unless Feingold gives the presidency a good college try, let Hillary lose in 2008 and build up further disgust in the Bush family when Jeb wins.

Elihu

Brain science, youth and juvenile justice

Part of the process of aging and maturing involves the recognition how much different we are from our parents and how much we are the same. I notice any mention of this to many women I know becomes an irritant--do we really want to become our parents? What was once awe steadily becomes suspicion--which in maturity eventually becomes acceptance of identity. We are products of both nature and nurture--and I do not believe I will ever be able to distinguish either pole in the magnetics of my identity.

My parents and I rarely discuss politics in this season of our lives. Maybe we have too many raw memories of getting together in the 70's and 80's during the holidays as a family where the well-prepared meal and festivities turned into a shouting match because I had an aunt who would inject her views into any conversation. My colleagues in my current congregation might call her a "freaky Bible person." At this juncture in our lives, getting together 3-5 times a year is a time to celebrate the family and to watch our daughter do whatever it is that she is going to do. Once in awhile, any one of us my lob a discussion topic out there as an experiment in conversation. On the last trip in December-January, I lobbed a discussion about juvenile prosecution as adults. I believe this is a sick practice, one of the most disgusting symptoms of a zero tolerance culture. In my interest and study in congregational systems, I have also studied the brain. Though I do not pretend to be a neuro-scientist, I have learned enough to know that there is not enough we know about the brain. We do know that brain development is fragile and tenuous--it is neither fair or just to punish for a lifetime someone whose brain is not fully developed. Throw in all the ritalin, paxil and other chemical soups we create and give to children--and the brain reaches new levels of complexity. Punishing children as adults is nothing short of barbaric. I lobbed this discussion to my parents several weeks ago--I was visibly disgusted with a story related to this topic and my mother said "I agree." My father seemed surprised at the discussion, at least reflective. He asked, if this is true, what do we do?

What do we do?

Our anxious political culture would not allow a politician to say juvenile punishment for crime needs to change. In an anxious political climate (big time anxious), no politician interested in keeping their high status job will be interested in acknowledging the complexity of the brain and say that trying children as adults is barbaric. Even the most liberal of politicians do not want to be pegged as soft on crime.

I hope the discussion of juvenile criminal justice (oxymoron?) will once again enter public discourse. Hope springs eternal after reading an article in the Seattle Times originally published in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. This article may not be a scientific journal article, but at least an article in a mainstream publication may bring back some helpful conversation about justice and children.

I have also been inspired to reflect upon this topic after hearing about the child of a colleague who is being punished for understandable brain activity and a system that encourages non-reflective formulaic anxious responses. Zero tolerance is a preferred value over honoring the complexity of the brain that God gave us as a gift. As a father, I see that I set up all kinds of systems that separate me from my daughter--I don't know if I have the courage to break these systems. I see that it will be harder for both schools and the juvenile justice system to break the barriers society has created when zero tolerance is the primary value.

Zero tolerance culture was created in the name of safety and security. Relationships are not safe and secure--they are difficult and take hard work. I often fail in this work and know that society often fails as well. This condition is known as sin. Relationships are the only way we learn the love of God. Since the beginning of time, we have been running away from that love in all forms.

Christ, have mercy.

Elihu

Sabbath practice and sermons

Another colleague of mine known as Theobilly and THE c.a.b. posted this comment:

Rev. Smails,

Amen. If not for Sunday nothing would ever get done in my pastoral life.

So how do you celebrate/observe the Sabbath on Friday?

I just try to stay around the house and play with the kids, I like to take a walk but not always possible. I struggle with the whole keeping sabbath deal. but i would like to.

why not post a sermon or two on the blog?

i want to see the simpsons episode with prarie home companion. it took me awhile to get the hang of the show.

___________


Sabbath practice begins with work stoppage (Walter Brueggemann reminds me of this). The biggest temptation is to read church email--so I put the halt on that practice. Sabbath has become more difficult since the pastor with whom I sleep has been working feverishly on her Doctor of Ministry--every free moment goes into homework and thesis. Even time away from school work the work hangs like a cloud. We used to keep each other on sabbath pretty well--it was a play day, movies, walks, etc. Another sabbathesque practice takes place on Sundays--we try not to buy anything. I can fudge on that, but my womanpanion is rather strict about that.

On posting sermons...some of my colleagues cringe when I say I do not write my sermons. From one who cares about writing as I do, my sermon preparation goes against my writing avocation. I am not sure if my sermons would make any sense beyond me, and on a good day, my congregation.

I shall consult the Simpson's geeks I know and see if they know of what episode I speak.

I am off to play volleyball this afternoon--a good Sunday practice--my temptation during the afternoon is to lay around like a log.

Peace,

Rev. Smails

Proud of my home state

Today a gay civil rights bill passed both houses of state government in Washington State. I know that some people believe that this is a sad day for Washington State. I am thankful that leaders in the state courageous in governing. The question is framed well by one of the senators: does a gay or lesbian person have the right to exist in society? I think the questions need to go much further--but a basic civil right has been established in the law of Washington State--for this I am proud.

I remember my week as a Washington State Senate Page in 1985, running errands for various Senators and observing state government in action. I was a freshman in high school at the time. Amazingly enough, I was curious about Republicanism in those days--I trusted my grandfather who was a supporter of Ronald Reagan--I'm guessing he was a Reagan Democrat. He was a campaign manager for Democratic State Senator Avery Garrett, who sponsored my week as a page. During that week, I had many conversations with State Senator Pete Von Reichbauer--I remember thinking that supply side economics was a compelling theory. I also held a fascination with the actions of the Soviet Union and that somehow SDI could keep the United States safe. My curiosity never led me to side with either party in the United States, only led me to ask more questions. When my grandfather was angry that I decided to study Russian, Soviet Politics and History at the University, I began to realize that questions about politics as usual in the United States are always threatening to the two party system, and my mistrust of current party politics began. The story about gay civil rights has reminded me today that developing my own observational skills of politics began with my week in the Washington State Senate.

Though I remain suspicious of two-party politics, I am thankful for what Democrats in Washington were able to achieve.

More on the freakin' prayer service

The blog malfunctioned a bit today. I received a comment on the "prayer service" from my friend Hawk. He offers fine perspectives on liturgical matters. With the malfunction, I have to post his response:

Dude:

My guess is that someone somewhere thought that this is what the Episcopalians do. Using the BCP there is a service of Ministration @ the Time of Death which typically never happens. The service is like the RC "Last Rites" although it can happen hours or even days after the death. There is also "Prayer for a Vigil" which the BCP comments, "It is appropriate that the family and friends come together for prayers [i.e. Prayer Service] prior to the funeral [i.e. night before]. Suitable Psalms, Lessons, and Collects (such as those in the burial service) may be used. The Litany at the Time of Death may be said...

Anyway, you get the picture. I think "Prayer Service" is actually the Protestant way of saying "Wake" or "Vigil" without sounding to papist. Maybe a way to get rid of the "Prayer Service" is to point to its papal roots (or does that work anymore?).

Hawk

My post on the prayer service had as much to do with my mood as it did my ignorance. I hold little patience for congregations that do not know why they do things, yet continue to do them anyway. This is one of my patterns. I get pissed off about something I have to do yet choose not to deal with the confrontation about the ideals to which I hold tightly--then in the midst of my brooding, God shows up anyway. Sounds a little like Jonah. Tonight's prayer service was an example of grace. A grieving family and community had an opportunity to experience God's presence.

Still Learning,

Pastor Elihu

P.S. My sermons are completed. Miracles do not cease to exist. Our Children's Minister said I "must have taken speed" to get 95 percent of the sermon done by 830 this morning. No speed. But it's done.

Loathing completion

Life is much easier at church and at home if I manage to complete my sermon on Thursday. I get the sermonic machine rolling earlier in the week--a little Greek, some theological reading, some midrash with my colleagues, some prayer (help me, God. Please.). I begin on Sunday night (Friday is my sabbath day). Gaining closure on the questions, ideas remains elusive. Conditioning renders my adjusted homiletic calendar useless. I guess God cares not about completing the sermon at a time that it is convenient for me.

My parents used to give me the business as an adolescent because I waited until the last minute to get a project done. I think if I started the day the assignment was made it would not have made a difference. The closure of ideas and questions creates pain. I hate letting the ideas go. I suppose the work is not my own in the first place--the only way a sermon is ever completed is that Sunday comes. Every week.

Pastor Elihu

Excuse me today for being cranky

This blog suffers from recent neglect, although I wonder if I should put off writing a few more days until I get my head straight. Do the great writers produce well when cranky? My thoughts on the following topics are developed, except the filter might be out of balance. I have much to write today.

Elihu

Breaking a New Year's Resolution--responding as one of the "coast people"

I generally do not make New Year's resolutions. Change has to come from other places than a calendar. I promised myself recently that using the letters to the editor from the Argus Leader as blog fodder was past its usefulness and did not reflect the peace I have reached with the state and its people.

A mythical line has been crossed and I have to call attention to it. More than once have I heard the reference to "people from the Coast" or "Coastal people" and ascribing sweeping generalizations to people from the East or West Coasts of the United States. I make sweeping generalizations. At least I try to be careful with them. My generalizations about the Midwest and/or Northern Great Plains are often affirmed by Garrison Keillor (also known by my friend Theobilly as the "guy (who) makes fart jokes"). In my early days of watching The Simpsons--there is an episode where the family is gathered around watching "A Prairie Home Companion" on TV with the audience engulfed in laughter. The Simpsons sit there with a blank stare. Until I moved to these wonderful Northern Great Plains--I did not understand the laughter attached to Keillor's work. Now I have lived the stories that Keillor describes.

Several friends and colleagues and I have wondered if the film depicting the lives of two gay ranchers known as "Brokeback Mountain" would ever come to Sioux Falls (it has). It turns out that one of the writers spent some time in South Dakota, and one of the stories in a recent Argus interviewed the writer. I looked forward to the buzz around the article and film--which has been minimal. The generated buzz did cross the line in the form of this letter. I was really pissed off when I read this letter at first--but I have since calmed down. With this letter I am reminded of the burning questions that keep me awake at night and why I would have any desire to subject myself to the pain of becoming a doctoral student. The assumptions of this writer reflect a theology of place--that regional differences matter in how people look at God, the Church and faith. That theology of place assumes that people from the "Coast" are morally inferior. I tire easily from that assumption. This woman is disturbed by Brokeback Mountain, even though she won't have the opportunity to see the movie in Lesterville, and I doubt she will try to see the film.

As a theologian, if I can somehow provide a bridge for the church to somehow have a conversation about faith and Church recognizing regional particularities in a productive way--then "here I am, Lord."

Elihu

What is a freakin' prayer service?

Rev. Darth and I were talking today about the 15% of the job that we both dislike (especially in South Dakota)...

The prayer service.

If you do not know what a "prayer service" is--please tell me. If you do know the meaning behind a prayer service, I would like to know that as well. I have consulted Cliff Clavin and Google. Google gave me this link.

When I write my book about South Dakota culture someday, I will describe what amounts to a second/first funeral. You get together the night before the funeral, gather family and friends with the body of the deceased--read Bible passages, have a reflection from the pastor and family members, maybe some music and prayers, even a little liturgy...this sounds like a funeral to me. I found it jerks the family around and it amounts to another funeral on the next day. One funeral seems like plenty to me.

Please excuse my ignorance...I have not spent my entire life in the Church, and the Church in the Pacific Northwest is a bit different than what I have experienced in the Midwest. But I never received information about a prayer service linked to a funeral in the life of the Church during my seminary training.

I am supposed to lead a prayer service Thursday night. I am tempted to start the service by offering a Trinitarian blessing (just to shock out the Presbyterians) then asking the question: "What is a freakin' prayer service?" I am certainly an advocate of prayer--but I don't believe the prayer service is for prayer. The event appears to be a visitation run amok. I think the prayer service in its current form was created by a moronic doormat co-dependent Lutheran pastor who was looking for a reason to hover over a grieving family. I know these folks exist--one of my fellow Lutheran pastors is well known for spending about 72 hours straight with a family when a death occurs.

If someone can explain to me the purpose of the prayer service-funeral tradition, I will gladly publish the writing and put my foot in my mouth. No colleague or funeral director can explain the origins of this practice, and it slips into the tradition of "well, we've always done it that way." I want to know WHY.

Please.

Pastor Elihu

Refreshing political dialogue from the Great White North

Regular readers of this blog will not be surprised that I have followed the recent Canadian parliamentary elections. I look forward to discovering if any United States residents assume that because Canadians voted for a party called "Conservative" means that Canada is moving toward a Republican-style government...ha.

What I found refreshing about the coverage from CBC Radio One on the morning after the election was the panel discussion involving fringe candidates. The panel consisted of a Communist Party candidate, a Green Party candidate, and a Christian Heritage Party Candidate (you can probably guess where this guy was coming from). They reported how their candidacies were respected in the Canadian process--they participated in debates (a novel concept), were received well by constituents (for the most part). The process was honored as opposed to nitpicking over the content of their ideas. I enjoyed the exchange of ideas--but the process that upheld a broad exchange of ideas and gave listeners the opportunity to consider that range.

For all the grief I ever gave Minnesotans about their cultural proclivities--I have always respected their political process. Make fun of Governor Jesse "The Body/Mind" Ventura all you want--Minnesotans respect a diverse political process. A Green Party candidate may actually win an election in the next 20 years--the Independence Party has offered respectable candidates, one being former Congressman Tim Penney. Minnesotans have also given leadership opportunities to respectable conservative voices, namely multiple-term governor Arne Carlson. South Dakota politics offers some of the most milquetoast political dialogue I have ever witnessed, even though the politicians themselves can be interesting on their own. Take our convicted felon four-term Republican Governor and former Congressman, Bill Janklow. George McGovern continues to live the life of an activist for positive social change. I never thought much of Tom Daschle, but I found it a novelty that people outside of South Dakota were interested in his race with John Thune (I like him even less).

I dread the upcoming elections in 2006 and 2008, mostly because I think the candidate I truly wish to be involved in the presidential election, Barack Obama, is too inexperienced to be a serious candidate for the presidency. To clarify, I think Obama a good candidate right now, but I think his lack of experience would get shredded in public discourse. If he runs, I want Obama to have the best shot possible. That time will come in 2012. Some of my older colleagues and friends say: "what about JFK?" He was only a one term Senator! I think we live in a different media era, where points about experience can be dissected to the point where too many will believe lack of experience will be a problem. About the only Democratic candidate I can get excited about is Russ Feingold. I had the privilege of voting for him in the 1998 Senate election. If the city of Madison, Wisconsin did not exist, Feingold would have lost in a landslide. Some have called Madison "The People's Republic of Dane County." Feingold is the closest thing to Paul Wellstone we have in the Senate today.

I digress into content. As is the case with my service as an interim pastor, I want to see good process. I saw a good process in Canada-even though the Conservatives won--which was not my preference--the Liberal party reaped what they had sown. A pocket lining finance scandal eroded the trust they had built over 13 years in leadership, and the Canadians wanted to build new leadership. The process worked well, and I hold high admiration to my neighbors to the north.

And to my fellow U.S. citizens I say about our process of choosing government: Sacre Bleu!

Elihu

A time for balance in Appalachia

Each passing day brings the urge to write, but the ability to release my thoughts to public consumption lacks significant force. I compare this state to a chest cold and exercise. I know I should exercise--and I crave exertion, but the visualization of labored breathing and painful movement of phlegm keeps me from putting on my running shoes. So my body rests in order to achieve balance, with the hope I do not drift into inertia, or even sloth. What the holidays may lack in meetings at the church, the presence of people accelerates. I live for these gatherings with family and friends, but I lose what fills me up and brings me back to life: solitude offers me the opportunity to ponder my place in the cosmos. I give thanks for my God, my relationships and my vocation. I arrived in Hayesville, North Carolina early this morning, thankful for the several hours of travel not required to speak with anyone. A blessing came in not sitting next to anyone chatty on the airplane trips. I sit alone in a simple room after some time to sleep--balanced enough that letting words out of my head seems the appropriate thing to do. I approach some sort of balance. After writing, I will put on my running shoes and take in some Appalachian air. I need a good dose of ruach.

Connecting the past two weeks with my family leaves me with special snapshots in my mind of my wife, daughter and other family members who made the journey to Sioux Falls. With good rest and a vocational charge at the Hinton Rural Life Center in Hayesville, NC, I can greet them Friday night with a smile. I hope I have grown over the past 2-3 years. I have taken these vocational and collegial journeys and gorged upon their stimulation like a hungry person might consume food in the presence of a feast. For the past two years I came home from these trips exhausted, not worth a damn to my family for a few days because I gorged upon the conversations and connections--staying up too late, not listening to the utterance of my soul to take some alone time. I cannot miss anything...or can I? Is the engorged self really the self. Is a conversation at 3 in the morning all that important? What I have lacked in friends and colleagues is not going to be solved in one sitting. Friendships, colleagues, relationships in general require care and wisdom to grow. I pray to God for that wisdom.

I look forward to writing again. Thank you for joining me.

Elihu

The power of a mnemonic device

Morgan Spurlock is a hero of mine.

I admire the questions that Spurlock asks through his provocative documentaries. Congressional debates on minimum wage sound like adults talking in a Peanuts television show--while Spurlock gives his viewers a glimpse at minimum wage life in an episode of his documentary series "30 days," where he guides viewers through walking in someone else moccasins for a 30 day period. I hope that Spurlock's series on F/X "30 days" comes out on DVD soon.

I hooked in to Spurlock's work, like many others, through the documentary Super Size Me. This is one of my favorite films of all time. I showed it to my confirmation class, parents, in-laws, even my daughter watched it. She was too small to comprehend the film...or was she? I am no Piaget, nor do I have more than trivial knowledge of cognitive development. But I know that music can register with a child. I know this personally, because I would not have earned an A on my 8th grade U.S. History exam without Schoolhouse Rock teaching me in music about the Preamble of the U.S. Constitution. I still know that song.

At least six months passed since I last watched Super Size Me, maybe longer since I sang the theme song. In those days, my daughter would sing that theme along with me. A few days ago at the dinner table, much to my shock and awe, the song came out again without my prompting.

Super size, super size, the American way
Super size, super size, the American way
Going fat, going broke, either way, you're gonna pay.
Super size me. Super size me.

At first, I sat in disbelief. Then, when I realized what she was singing, I laughed in amazement, and called to my wife to listen.

For the most part, she has not repeated some of the less choice words that have come out of my mouth--although she yells at the dog like I yell at her (as well as the dog). I can learn much from what comes out of her mouth--she is a mirror of my communication.

Words of grace and words of warning.

Elihu

Christmas is ruined? Lord, have mercy.

My daughter and I watched "Merry Christmas, Charile Brown" on the average of once per day during this Advent. I loved this story as a child. For some reason the storyline of Charlie Brown struggling with the meaning of Christmas in relation to commercialism is more tastefully executed and thought provoking than anything I have read or heard in public discourse in recent memory.

As a teenager, I recall coming home from Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd in Olympia, Washington during the Advent and Christmas seasons and finding my mother upset because one of our pastors saw it as his homiletical duty to rip on the retail industry and its relationship to Christmas. During that time in our lives, the retail industry provided employment to my mother, and essentially food on our table, clothing for our bodies (at a discounted rate from the employer), and an opportunity to help my brothers and I pay for our college educations. Certainly I am no paragon of virtue--I like stuff. I am a pagan heathen. My family sending my mother into employment was another story of a stay at home mother moving into the workforce. I am sure that my mother selling women's undergarments was a key reason for ruining Christmas for a local pastor. To some degree, my mother's employment encouraged the family to get stuff that we did not need. Such are the lives of sinners. I buy all kinds of junk I do not need.

One of the things I miss about Lutheran liturgy is that I had the opportunity to sing "Lord, have mercy" almost every week.

Lord, have mercy. All kinds of people are complaining about how their Christmas is going. Some conservatives complain that the athiests and liberals are ruining Christmas because the culture has drifted into using the greeting "Happy Holidays." Liberals make speeches that conservative complaint about Christmas greetings carry no substance when they encourage market forces for people to buy, buy, buy without any reflection on why, why, why? Idealists on each side of the political spectrum complain that people cannot seem to separate themselves from buying stuff and that Christmas is ruined through the work of the retail industry. A recent Sojourners article pushed me to this reflection when one more writer declared that Christmas is ruined. Many people have come to the church looking for assistance during this season--hoping to pay for food and maybe a gift for their families. Without our assistance, their Christmas is also ruined. Christmas is ruined...

Lord, have mercy.

First, a little perspective. Since the post-Civil War era, Christmas has been ruined in America. Rebecca Edwards in the Christian Science Monitor chronicles the history of American commercialism and Christmas. The public often sees commercialism and Christmas as a recent issue. I would guess that Christmas was even ruined before that. The Evangelists known as Mark and John did not include Jesus' birth into their final draft about the claim about the centrality of Jesus in salvation history. I am sure that Mark and John also had horrible Christmas holidays and did not want to remember Jesus' birth.

The way Christmas is set up on the calendar, people will always complain during this holiday season. Regardless of the hemisphere of residence, Christmas is in a season of extreme temperature. It is either really dark, or the sun shines well into the night. Both of these natural rhythms in the year tend to send our bodies out of balance--either craving the sunlight or the peaceful darkness in hope for some rest. In the midst of this state of imbalance, Christmas is a time to get together with family. When I get together with family at Christmas, I recognize how much of a sinner I am, and I see the sins that have been passed on from generation to generation. The chance to be reminded of family divisions, personal failures and being presented the frightening opportunity to reconcile is anxiety ridden. I eat too much in this swirl of anxiety, and I imagine this is a struggle for other as well.

If the above paragraph is true, then I ask and plead, Lord, have mercy.

On this Christmas Eve, I plead for anyone who cares to take in my words to plead to God for mercy. Certainly because you and I are sinners, but mostly because it is our tendency this time of year to be complainers. My plea is for the people of God to be gentle with one another, because when faced with our shortcomings and temperature and light extremes, we have a hard time welcoming peace. In the midst of all the hustle and bustle of the season, we celebrate a God who comes to us in Jesus not because we make it happen, but a God who comes because we are loved by God, and that because God comes, we are called to sit in awe. If only but for a moment.

Lord, have mercy.

Elihu

Food that is not "Norwegian spicy"

When I served at a congregation in Hudson, South Dakota, I often ate with some of the local senior citizens at their local cafe. One day, one of the folks inquired about my favorite meal. I had become accustomed to the bland food in the Northern Great Plains, even though I avoided the local favorite--Scalloped Ham and Potatoes. My favorite was lasagna, to which one person replied, "exotic!"

I knew that bland was the norm--I didn't know that basil was an exotic spice.

Urban legend in Sioux Falls holds that ethnic restaurants that would normally serve spicy food do not do good business until they tone down the spice. One Chinese restaurant in town, Peking, has gone the way of non-spice that confirms urban legend. I had never known Chinese to be bland...until Sioux Falls.

One member of another congregation--a proud Norwegian once said that if the food I served was not brown and/or white, that he would make in brown or white by adding potatoes or by adding gravy.

Over this holiday season I have served this side dish (could be a main course) frequently. Some in this area have called it "interesting," while transplants have marvelled and found it to be a culinary oasis of spice. I pass it on from the book "Vegetarian Entertaining" by Diane Shaw.

My mother in law (another proud Norwegian) is not against spicy food, but doesn't quite have the spice thing down. I usually ask her about a particular dish--is it spicy (like a hot curry) or Norwegian spicy (like basil).

This dish is not Norwegian spicy. It has a good kick. Enjoy!

Cold Sesame Noodles (aka Spicy Thai Noodles)
6-8 servings

1 cup chunky peanut butter (no added sugar, salt or shortening works best)
1/2 c. soy sauce
6 tbsp. dark sesame oil
1/4 c. rice vinegar
4 tsp sugar
2 tsp chili paste w/garlic ( I have used Thai Kitchen Red Curry Paste, and that works well)
1/4 c. hot water
1 lb. linguine, cooked and drained
1/2 c. minced scallions (white part only)
1/4 c. chopped peanuts

Combine the peanut butter, soy sauce, sesame oil, vneagar, sugar and chili paste. Add hot water 1 tbsp at a time, whisking until well-blended and smooth. Add the drained linguine to the sauce along with half the scallions. Toss until noodles are coated with the sauce. If the mixture is too sticky, add more hot water and toss again.

Turn out onto a serving dish and sprinkle with the remaining scallions and chopped peanuts. Can be served cold or at room temperature. Enjoy!

Peaceful Advent...

Elihu

Wanderlust longing creates Yukon dreams

When XM Radio picked up Major League Baseball in its lineup, I began to question my investment in Sirius. Howard Stern and Martha Stewart will not attract my listening time, and I could live without NFL Football if forced to make a choice (but believe me, am I ever on the Seattle Seahawks bandwagon). I like the music stations, and the BBC, Air America and the diversity of American opinion is a worthwhile investment. I can also listen to collegiate sports.

A few weeks ago, Sirius picked up CBC Radio, and has added an all-Canadian music channel known as "Iceberg." I was thrilled. Sounds Like Canada in the morning and As It Happens in the evening. These radio shows remind me of what NPR and the BBC used to be. I remember turning on these broadcasts over the years and depended on stories that covered the continents in a way that no other media outlet covered. In a 12-hour window I had stories on Kazakhstan, Uruguay and Ireland. At some point NPR and BBC became overly devoted to stories from the Middle East as if George W. Bush himself were calling the shots. If I wanted most of the stories in a publication or broadcast to cover the Middle East and American politics, I can read Time or Newsweek. I need perspective. I get caught up in my own world easily and my mind can turn to mush.

Last week, Sounds Like Canada, the morning show on CBC Radio One broadcast from Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory. One of the journalists set up shop in a local bar to talk about the future of mining in the Yukon. Many are anticipating a boom similar to the 1800's when Whitehorse was about the size of San Fransisco. I also learned about a Newfoundland band on the show called Great Big Sea. I only heard one song ("Captain Kidd")--it was a hearty song took me to memories of many boat rides on the Puget Sound. I love the salt air--I could almost taste it with that song.

Brother Bingo once talked with me several years ago about cheap land available in the Yukon...I Googled extensively on the subject, but could find no links. I can dream. I may not own the land--but I am ready for a trip to Whitehorse, Dawson and eventually see the Newfies in St. John's for a lager while I listen to Great Big Sea. I hope my family--any of them--would like to join me.

Elihu

Melting Snow

I take some pride in that I do not brood over things I cannot control.

Melting snow does not make the list. Without the snow, South Dakota is painfully ugly in the winter time. High temperatures in the mid to upper 30's has turned our winter wonderland into a drab collage of carbon stained slush and the worst of earth tones. Sunshine does not even make it look good.

I would love to will the weather colder, but my will is futile.

Melting snow is for spring training time, not mid-December.

Dammit!

Elihu

Saying Good-Bye to Cassettes: What is their Legacy?

I like to believe I overcame my life as a pack rat.

What am I supposed to do with this musical format of the 80's? I have a hard time throwing away my a-ha cassette.

They will go for nothing on e-bay.
Why waste my time selling them for a nickel at a garage sale?
I think the local used music store would ask me to pay them to take an a-ha cassette off my hands.
Along with the others:

Spandau Ballet, They Might Be Giants, REM, Clint Black.

Cassettes are the outcasts of the music industry, along with their sad cousins, the 8-track tape.

Vinyl has fabulous sound quality, while the CD and MP3 are convenient and easily manipulated.

What will be the legacy of the cassette? Do they have any redeeming value in music history?

Vinyl lasted decades and still has a cult following (can you imagine having a cult following for cassettes?).
The CD may be on its last years, but it introduced us to digital music.
Love my iPod...

A friend/colleague of mine in a conversation a while back and I shared some laughs about "the mixed tape." How could I have shared love with my wife without the mixed tape? I think I put together at least 8 tapes when we were dating...but why save the tapes? The sound systems I have don't play the tapes at a decent sound quality--and the tapes have deteriorated from time in the sun, overuse, and our daughter getting a hold of them.

The cultural place of the mixed tape is profound when referenced in an episode of "Family Guy," when baby Stewie is hot for his babysitter and makes her a mixed tape.

I will get rid of the cassettes. I may regret it someday when one of them is selling for a couple of grand...but I am not that kind of collector.

I saved the covers to the mixed tapes for our scrap books...

(Special Note to Brother Bingo: If I need to correct any of my musicology, let me know.)

Elihu

If You Want A Funky Christmas...

When I was a boy, my father and I would occasionally watch television and come upon James Brown. The Funkmeister himself on Soul Train, or Sonny and Cher, Flip Wilson or some other variety show. We would both watch in fascination the man shuffle his feet and truly get down. We would laugh--not because the King of Soul was funny. James was so far from our experience.

James moved from fascination in my musical appreciation when I worked with Bingo at a music store in Seattle in the winter of 1997. On the regular rotation of music during the shopping season was this fine album that you see here. By the time I left my short stint in Seattle and my only direct foray in working retail, I was looking forward to the time James made the music rotation.

This CD is oh, so cool. I would almost guarantee that no one else is singing "Santa Claus, go straight to the ghetto."

Any James Brown Christmas is good (I have one other), but this one has the best cover.

If you want a funky Christmas (I never thought of a funky Christmas until 8 years ago), get this CD.

Elihu

Citgo politics heating up

The Cold War made inquiries into politics of the left-right continuum a secretive chess game with propeganda pawns. Gathering information in the 00's is not a stealth activity. The apathy of the American public about acquiring news creates the road block to intelligent public discourse today. We no longer have the Iron Curtain to blame for any lack of knowledge.

I recently wrote that I was going to be buying Citgo products more often in response to the populist move to provide Citgo heating oil for some impoverished residents of Massachusetts at a reduced rate. My brother Bingo did not like that I called Chavez wacky. I still think he is. Though Chavez portrays himself as a champion of the poor, he creates conditions that subsidize gasoline to the point of irresponsibile environmental degradation. Petrol at ~15 cents per gallon seems dangerous. Chavez makes classic populist moves. I find that George W. Bush's conclusion that Chavez is threatening to U.S. interests laughable--and the apathy of the American public will carry this through. Bush must think he can stir similar anti-left sentiment the way Reagan used to denounce more quality Latin American advocates for the poor like Daniel Ortega. What is amusing is that you have two heads of state running cults of personality proclaiming each other dangerous. Cults of personality are dangerous in general. The problem with Bush is that he has access to many more weapons and resources, and he happens to enjoy destruction.

A colleague and friend recently identified me as a pugilist. I took that to mean I will use provocation to encourage discussion.

Fair enough.

The fact that I drove an extra two miles to buy Citgo gasoline last night is not a statement of allegiance to Hugo Chavez (although a Bushite might say it is...I do not care). Conversations about poverty and how it can be addressed need to happen. Until conventional wisdom is disrupted and typical patterns of thought are redirected (including the tired usage of the left-right political continuum), renewal will be slow to happen.

However, my faith does not place hope in the renewal of society through government. Or the market. I am a benefactor of both the government and the market. I ask God that I can be made into a faithful participant in both--doing justice, loving kindness and walking closely with my God.

In the meantime, I'll also remain a pugilist.

I am surprised to find interest in the politics of Citgo. Maybe I shouldn't be:

Even someone in South Dakota has taken interest.

I certainly was not the first one to think about buying Citgo products.

Captain Capitalism said that Kennedy-loving liberals and Democrats would be flocking would be flocking to Citgo.

I may be going to Citgo--but I don't care for the Kennedys, and I'm not a Democrat.

But I do participate in the market. I am going to buy Citgo gas.

And other Citgo stuff.

Elihu

My Connection with "Intelligent Design"

When I attended the University of Kansas as an undergraduate, my family and friends thought it was funny to send my greeting cards, post cards and other paraphernalia related to The Wizard of Oz.

This is but one of many reasons to make fun of Kansas. A top ten:

1. The Wizard of Oz.
2. Sen. Sam Brownback.
3. School board evolution debate/Intelligent Design.
4. A state that placed their major city in Missouri.
5. A US Senator (Bob Dole) who brought erectile dysfunction into public discourse--spawning thousands of products and commercials for "male enhancement."
6. A lack of creativity in naming high schools. They have an unusual attachment to naming schools after directions. Take the Shawnee Mission School District. When I attended KU, their schools were named North, South, East, West and Northwest. Even Sioux Falls, South Dakota is slightly more creative (Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt).
7. The Topeka Sizzlers.
8. Great headlines for high school sports. One of the high schools is the Topeka High Trojans. Another high school (creatively named) is known as Seaman high school. Urban legend says a sports headline once read: "Trojans Stop Seaman."
9. An accent that mixes a Southern drawl and a Chicago pronunciation of "ass" or "sausage" or "God."
10. Kansas State University in "Manhattan," Kansas. Actually, to my knowledge, KSU is distinctly more popular throughout the state, but the people who are loyal to KU are fiercely loyal.

Kansas has many fine attributes like any state. I enjoyed my 3 years of school there. I made great friends. Lawrence is probably one of my top 10 favorite municipalities--a quintessential college town. There is natural beauty that an outsider would not expect to find in Kansas.

In reference to #3, Kansas isn't necessarily the Mecca of Intelligent Design, but it is the source of public discourse about the "failings" of evolution. The Lawrence Journal World reports on an Intelligent Design story to which I have a loose connection to the subject of the story. Dr. Paul Mirecki was the teacher of a Bible overview course I took at the University of Kansas. At a state university, Dr. Mirecki was going to teach the Bible as only a piece of religious literature. It was understandable the conservatives in the class took issue with this methodology. He handled the challenges well. If the article accurately reports the situation--it sounds like the good professor did not handle teaching Intelligent Design as mythology well.

I hope the Univeristy does handle a course on Intelligent Design well--The University of Kansas does not need to become #11 on the list.

On a related note--I tend not to get involved in the discussion of Intelligent Design, let alone making fun of it. The issue for me is that I do not care to engage in an anxious debate where many people seem to be asking the wrong questions. I think our discussions about Biblical truth and its relationship with science are off kilter. Not to mention the crux of the discussion seems to be who can be louder with their arguments.

No thanks.

I did receive an amusing example of poorly framed questions from my fine colleague, Rev. Darth (check out the link to his blog on my links). For some high quality laughter, take this exam.

Enjoy!

Pastor Elihu

Connection with my idealistic tendencies

I admire people who read well. Their libraries are stocked with a variety of genres with ability to make poignant references in conversations without sounding like a book snob--it is merely a desire to access the literary gifts of others into public and private discourse for the pure edification of ideas and their development. I admire stewards of the written word.

I struggle to read well. Consistency is the issue. I wish I knew more about literary classics. I could stand to be better versed in theology. There are so many good ideas in the world, yet so little time to ponder their breadth.

I begin reading many books. I finish few of those books. Now that I have some income, stacks of magazines, books and articles do not mock me any longer--they either take their place in a handsome form of storage, or I ignore the mocking and simply quit collecting.

One article never mocked me, yet I could not throw it away. I wanted to throw it away because it was a cover article in Time Magazine.

"How to End Poverty."

Really?

Those who know me well know me as an idealist. My Meyers-Briggs Type preferences are INFP. Supposedly this means my hallmark in life is idealism. I don't go for blind idealism. The Time article sat on a short stack (meaning that I could actually read it) for 4 months or so before I finally looked at it. I was skeptical. For idealism to move to active passion, quality ideas need to make the foundation. The ideas were good enough for me to buy the book highlighted in the article by Jeffery Sachs. I read about 15 pages while my daughter splashed around in the bath tonight. I may have moved farther along, but the little girl said "all done." This is part of my problem. Distraction happens easily. How long will it be before I pick up the book again?

My idealistic tendencies have been stirred. I hope that I can be stirred to greater action.

Elihu

Creatively sticking it to George W. Bush--I'm going to be buying Citgo gasoline whenever I can

My grandfather often found it blasphemous that I found American politics boring, even more so when I studied Soviet/Russian, Scandanavian and African political systems in college. By no means am I an expert, but I learned enough to have a conversation. The topic interested me enough that after I graduated from Minnesota State U., I might go get a Master's in Political Science. Seminary won out obviously. Maybe Political Science will be the degree I work on after I retire.

Soviet/Russian politics were more of a novelty. Anything Russian or Soviet in my youth held great mystery. The Beatles and Sting wrote songs about what might be going on back there. What was really going on behind the Iron Curtain? I wanted to be on the front lines of that conversation. At least beyond my grandfather's beloved Time magazine.

African politics, though interesting because of their struggle to move beyond dicatatorship and to find harmony with modernity and tradition--did not offer much improvement over what I saw in the United States.

Scandanavian Politics, on the theoretical level, were quite compelling. Each country's systems offered stable government with multiple viable parties across a wide political spectrum. I was also drawn by their generosity--Scandanavian governments consistently give away the highest percentages of their budgets to humanitarian efforts.

If you are a regular reader of The Mad House Gazette, you know that I am no George W. Bush lover. In this country, that basically leaves me with the Democrats. What I dislike about the 2 party system is that it takes good ideas and morphs them into something that will supposedly please more people. I would guess that people on the left and right would have some innovative and useful ideas for the health of the United States. These ideas get morphed into what becomes the corporate, media driven political parties we see on television. These talking heads trade barbs and collect more money to feed their media machines of self-promotion. Democrats and Republicans are both part of this circus and I distance myself from them as much as I can.

I also believe in being a citizen. I vote. One thing I admire and miss about Minnesota is that they are able to put together some viable 3rd and 4th party candidates. Tim Penny ran with the Independence Party. The Green Party can even make a little noise. In South Dakota, 3rd party candidates tend to buck left and right and move toward wacko.

In today's Christian Science Monitor, I read a story about Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez teaming up with a politician from Massachusetts to provide subsidized heating oil for the poor in the Bay State. Certainly a populist move from Chavez--also a much more creative move than anything that Democrats can put together. Chavez is a bit wacky, but at least he is creative. I did not know that Citgo was related to Venezuelan oil, but I think they gained a customer.

Elihu

Jesus is watching you...urinate

Even though I am a big time sinner, I still take comfort in how Jesus tells his disciples that he will be with them always.

I have faith in the presence of Jesus, but there are times that image is taken too far.

If a man needs to visit the lavatory in the congregation I serve, Jesus is looking out of the corner of His (this is the only time I have ever capitalized the masculine pronoun for Jesus, but hey, this depiction of Jesus is pretty important) eye at my execution of the #1.

I wish I had the minutes for the committee that Jesus should watch men pee.

I haven't found much in the Church that surprises me, but I wanted to know the thought processes that brought a wooden carving of Jesus into the bathroom.

Jesus is looking out after you--but I hope that Jesus isn't watching you pee like this image.

I am thankful for a lot of things...but Jesus watching me pee is not in the top 100.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Pastor Smales

The liturgical game: a pilgrimage passed on to the next generation

I recently returned from a family weekend trip to Lawrence, Kansas. We wanted to take our nephew to a college basketball game--someplace special--a pilgrimage of sorts. Pilgrimages have captured my imagination for years. My grandparents' and aunt's travels varied travels inspired my dreams with their stories and artifacts. Today I say thank you to a high school English teacher, Mr. K, for recognizing and cultivating my wanderlust in the scope of literary history. In Mr. K's class we studied Chaucer's Canterbury Tales--I loved the Prologue and its discussion of the long pilgrimage.

Difficult to say if Mr. K was prophetic when he signed my high school yearbook. He wrote "Don't goon on too many long pilgrimages." An internal debate of my life these days involves pilgrimage frequency. How often can I go on a pilgrimage? There are many opportunities. Can I bring others? Will my family come with me? When I go by myself, how much is too much time away? How will I share the pilgrimage? The early life longing to depart was only a longing, today pilragmages are planned and experienced, and I have moved into another season in my life where it is time to share the gift of the pilgrimage.

Our nephew grasped the concept I attempted to share--even my wife and his grandfather in their own way understood what I was trying to do--and they became joyful participants along with my wife's mother and our daughter (though they were only recipients of the post game stories). There are particularities to a college basketball game in Lawrence. In my life as a theologian I have come to notice liturgy in public events. Back in 1988, I had no idea that a gathering of 16,000 people in Allen Field House was a liturgical event. Coming to a game 17 years later, I see the liturgy in a basketball arena. It is one of the reasons I like college athletics. The attendee is drawn into a sacred participation with layers of meaning, formed into a story. Music, movement and narrative give recognition to a sacred event. I named this observation to our nephew in the post-game discussion. My wife and I named the liturgy of the event. Our 11 year old nephew asked "what is liturgy?" I am glad the pilgrimage provided a midrash for that question. God provided a holy space, indeed. Six people representing 3 generations "goon" on a long pilgrimage. That pilgrimage carries a dual responsibility--to be thankful in the moment, and to share the experience so that others may enter into a holy space.

First snow of the season

Snow can still throw me into a state of youthful giddyness. The novelty of snow lives with many natives of the Pacific Northwest--I remember entire winters when we would receive nothing but a brief flurry. Even with a blanket of an inch or two, the white covering would be gone by lunch. Snow days were truly heaven sent. In the fourth grade, we received about 13 inches of snow in the Seattle Metro. That snow stuck around for nearly two weeks--we missed seven days of school. Urban legend held that we only had one snow plow in King County, so we were stranded at home, many folks in their rear-wheel drive cars couldn't get around. This meteorological event was a fourth graders dream! I've never sledded so much in my entire life. My brothers and I went through three pairs of jeans a day--snow pants would be a silly investment--but we had a dryer and a supply of Brittania jeans for all of us. I didn't even mind that I was still going to school in June because the blissful memory carried through the entire year.

The first snow has come to Southeastern South Dakota for the season. Every first snow and every big snowstorm brings back memories of snow-filled joy--the aforementioned story is only one. The other big snows of my life:

+Halloween storm in Mankato, MN, 1991. Four feet in less than 24 hours. Wow.
+SE Wisconsin in December 2000. It snowed everyday that month but 3--my family was there for Christmas and my brothers, wife, doggie and I relived that big snowstorm of our youth.
+SE Wisconsin in 1999. My wife and I were struggling with sermons. The snow came. We had to cancel worship services so as not to endanger the congregation trying to get to church.

What is it about the snow that enlightens souls? Is it the clean white blanket on the ground? Is it that the land is sleeping and our own longing for rest? Is it the white that brings a spot of hope in a dark day?

I'm not generally a person who has to look outside to feel balanced, but I can't help but look outside today. God does nice work...

Elihu

Reflection on American Civil Religion

On the day my wife and I celebrated the rite of ordination, we certainly recognized a distinct transition in our lives--but the future also remained a mystery. I am not one to complain about how seminary did not prepare me to do certain task. I believed that the task of the seminary was to prepare us for theological study and reflection. Spiritual and theological disciplines comprised the majority of our learning, while the practical applications served as a supplement.

Days of observance such as Veteran's Day and Memorial Day represent a struggle for me as a resident theologian. In Sioux Falls resides many clergy who can serve as a chaplain of American Civil Religion--so I have not been asked to lead any services on these days of rememberance. Leading Services in American Civil Religion was not a class in seminary--but I was asked to participate as a pastor in services in smaller towns. I can see why the presence of clergy is important in attaching meaning the work of the State. The government calls upon women and men to sacrifice their lives for the good of the State, without the possibility of debating the integrity of their mission. I have noticed that people seek meaning and respect in such matters of life and death, and recognizing the presence of God is important.

While serving in a large country congregation a few years ago, I was asked to lead services on Veteran's Day and Memorial Day. Theological perspective or tradition does not seem to matter in the context of American Civil Religion, only the presence of clergy and a "short prayer" or "a Bible reading." It does not matter that I am a Lutheran, nor am I asked to share a sermon that interprets a particular text for the life and faith of a particular community. American Civil Religion is its own entity with its own set of rules. At one time or another, many clergy have been given a lesson from a veteran about etiquette with the U.S. Flag--in my first congregation, a veteran gave me a booklet on flag etiquette. To my knowledge, this etiquette has not been a subject of theological debate, only a set of rules to be accepted and followed. I feel uneasy about this kind of participation in American Civil Religion. As a pastoral theologian, the gifts I bring to interpretation are valued. This does not necessarily mean the congregation is called to agree with what I share in my sermon, only that as a community of faith we are called to enter into the questions that the word of God presents.

Earlier this week a member of the congregation I serve, a practitioner of American Civil Religion came to my office to question something that I said in my sermon. Actually, it wasn't really a question, it was a statement that my use of the word "hell" in my sermon was "inappropriate." This was not a matter of discussion. Supposedly "a lot" of people had been talking about this. My use of hell was to convey the fury experienced in what appeared to be an unfair action by God. I believe that the tradition of lament in the biblical witness deems the use of hell as a faithful representation. In American Civil Religion, the word "hell" has no place. Hell is not vulgar--it does not inappropriately depict sex or defecation. Hell represents fury and torment. To say the use of hell is inappropriate is a statement of American Civil Religion. To the practitioner of American Civil Religion who came to my office, I would not apologize, nor would I acknowledge "a lot" of people who didn't like my use of hell. I asked him what he thought. He said hell was inappropriate in church. At least we clarified that thought.

Hopefully at some point the community of faith can talk about the why.

P.S. Pat Robertson has taken another leap into the public attempting to dictate the direction of American Civil Religion. I do not mind participating in American Civil Religion that seeks meaning. I reject American Civil Religion that is abusive. To say Pat Robertson is abusive is not a revolutionary statement, but when he makes an idiot of himself, it is good for a laugh.

Pastor Elihu

A tip for the best in roots music

Today I received a tip from John, someone who has expanded my musical horizons for years.

The list connected to me by John in my collection is varied: U. Utah Phillips, Evolution Control Committee, Alison Krauss, Nirvana, The Posies, Devil in a Woodpile, Ween--only to name a few. John knows his stuff--he works at Smithsonian Folkways Recordings.

John has a radio show from 8-9 Eastern on Monday nights.

Here's his intro to that new radio show:

Hi There,

Just wanted to let you know that I'm rejoining the ranks at WEBR with my new radio show, "Free Dirt." It's a one-hour show each Monday night from 8-9pm Eastern time, featuring roots music in all it's forms. What does that mean? Well, Americana, classic country, alt.country, folk, bluegrass, blues, gospel, and cajun for starters. It also will include roots traditions from around the world, i.e. music from foreign lands that has inspired and been inspired by american roots musics.

If you're in Fairfax County, VA, you can listen to it On Cox digital cable channel 37, and basic cable channel 7. On Comcast Cable in Reston, we are on channel 27. You can also hear it over the web at http://www.fcac.org/webr.
Enjoy!

Cheers,

John

Our lives should be filled with good music. Accept no junkfood.

Peace,

Elihu

My daugther, the carnivore

For at least since 1991, I have skewed my eating habits toward the vegetarian side of the fence. I can only describe the looks received when making the reluctant proclamation about my dietary relationship with veggies and other non-animal death products in this way: my grandmother thought I was in some sort of cult. My grandmother is from the Pacific Northwest as well. I've had it easy being a vegetarian back in the Northwest. At least only some folks from the homeland merely thought suspiciously of me. But I also knew that there were many others who had made a similar dietary choice as me.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota has been rated by PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals--aka in SD--"People Eating Tasty Animals") as the least vegetarian friendly city in the United States. My observations are anecdotal, but to not eat meat does not merely create suspicious looks...but it becomes an offensive statement to residents of this region. So I only try to stay away from meat. I am reminded of this hostility when I drive west on Interstate 90. A billboard by the side of the road reads "In South Dakota, we REJECT animal activists." On that drive I might see a bumper sticker that reads: "Eat Beef--The West Wasn't Won On Salad."

I wouldn't consider myself an animal rights activist--I've just found that it is the best health choice for me, and I believe it to be good stewardship.

I found it interesting that my daughter put away about a half pound of taco flavored beef tonight. She ate it like she was a vulture. Her eyes were fixed as if she was stocking up her body for hibernation or waiting for the next kill. I wasn't offended. I was in awe. This growing girl needs food. She may become Miss Beef America--I'd be okay with that. Regardless of how our diets my diverge, I was still in awe of the consumption I saw.

Now I am starting to understand what my parents saw when they watched their refrigerator empty in front of their eyes at the hands and mouths of my brothers and me.

Elihu

Weaning myself off of ESPN Radio

As a native of the Pacific Northwest and a sports fan--I am glad that in this day and age for the internet and sports radio. I can follow the Seattle Mariners, Seahawks, Sonics and the University of Washington in reading the Seattle Times and P-I online. I can also listen to the games on either satellite radio or through a web feed. I also listen to ESPN Radio to get other tidbits about what is going on with these teams.

Recently I had an epiphany that the ESPN radio thing became a sick attachment. I'm not sure what pointed me toward this reflection, but I tuned in to how much the broadcasters shout and imply that their topics are matters of life and death. I can't tell you the degree of elation I would experience if the Mariners won the World Series or the Washington Huskies won another national championship in football (not likely soon) or in basketball (a growing possibility). But I can't say that any of these topics warrant 24 hours worth of radio shouting. It is pure entertainment, nothing more. Since I don't aspire to be a hedonist, I realized that ESPN Radio wasn't making me any smarter--so I'm just checking in from time to time. ESPN.com will serve me adequately. I have merely moderated my ESPN radio time.

With all that empty airtime I have been listening to the BBC World Service. The Brits don't seem to do much shouting. This is good radio journalism. I still prefer the CBC, but I can't pick that up anywhere but through a web feed. Between the Monitor and the BBC--I have enjoyed the coverage--and I have learned many things as well. There is even some entertainment value. I love to hear a Brit say Addis Ababa.

Elihu

I did go back to the Monitor: a sweet reunion

After a four year hiatus, I am once again a subscriber to the Christian Science Monitor. As I have shared in earlier posts, newspapers are an important part of my family's heritage. The newspaper was a family activity--not like a game the whole family could play, but as a valued contribution to the well being of the household. This was especially true in my Gram and Granddad's house. The clergy proverb about the importance of "a Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other" resonated with me in my growth as a homiletical practitioner.

I would love to have a conversation about the declining influence of newspapers in the information age with my Granddad if he were still alive. I would also let him know that the Monitor was better than his beloved Time magazine. As a student of the Journalism School at the University of Washington, he proudly stated that Time magazine was one of his textbooks. I think since Time has become a corporate whore over the years, he found the publication more difficult to defend--I remember Granddad questioned my interest in the Monitor--it was somehow sacrilege to him, much like my study of Russian at the University of Kansas. I told him I was going to be a foreign correspondent for Time, for Pete's sake! Was that not enough? Secretly I wanted to work for the New York Times as I got older, but I hate those people now for making me pay to read Maureen Dowd online. I'm still torked about that.

I also find it interesting discussing the Treeless Edition of the Monitor with other Monitor subscribers. A colleague of mine says that holding the paper is important to her. Holding the newspaper does not necessarily get me to read it. What caused me to end my subscription in the past was the stack of Monitors that sat waiting to be read. It also comes a day late by mail about as soon as your mailing address crosses over from the Eastern Time Zone. The articles have always been keepers. I was truly appreciative when I found a gem for a sermon or a conversation in the Monitor. I waited for 2-3 years to use an article I found that discussed global warming and the opening up of the Northwest Passage--a change that could direct the US to be Canada's dancing monkeys in the future (I'll have to do some digging to find this link. I will try to get that one posted). The Treeless Edition does not mock me as much. Another benefit--isn't a laptop for bathroom reading a classy accessory?

The real return with my renewed investment? I have been glad to read articles about Iceland, foster children, a good book review about the myth of meritocracy in the Ivy League and alternative perspectives on the common news of the day in the past two days.

Peace,

Elihu

An ode to the other pastor in my house, my wife

It is coming upon 4 a.m.

I am awake because my life is a bit out of whack because:

a. I have had my gums scraped as treatment for gum disease (I don't recommend gum disease as a hobby).
b. I have been ill for over a week--equilibrium toussled by massive amount of stuff in my sinus cavities, taking naps to recover, turning back my clocks, and generally not knowing what time it is.

My wife will attempt to get up in about an hour with hopes of continuing to work on a project for her Doctor of Ministry degree at Luther Seminary (our Alma Mater and the place where we met--but you won't find that on the LS website). She may not be the most organized person--but she goes about her work with grace, passion and a desire to connect all of these with her family life--life with me and life with her daughter. She facilitates good morale in any place she goes--a laugh or a smile is not far away in my wife's presence.

I hope that God provides her stamina to see this feeding of her gifts continues--I know she feels stress and the pull of many parts of her life. I know that many are clouded by the burdens of their minds--but if you have a prayer for my wife and her work, please offer that prayer. She is passionate about the action of caring for people--I love to watch that gift development grow.

Time to go back to bed.

Pastor Smales