Text of a message Mrs. Psycho and I sent out this morning:
Pastor Jones is back in the news today (first he says he will, and then he won't), and we have decided to donate $20 to the local mosque for the express purpose of providing a copy of the Quran to someone who wants or needs it. We'll inform our local newspapers, also, in the hope that other non-Muslims will follow our example. Maybe we can out-weigh the "pastor's" destruction, for a net increase in the number of Qurans.
We are pretty damned short of money, but we will find $20 in our budget for this purpose, and we hope to persuade some of our friends to do the same.
Considering that "Pastor" Jones' church-and-used-furniture business only has about fifty members, our "action" may be bigger than his.
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Religion. Show all posts
Friday, September 10, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Pain in the Past, Hope for the Future
Yesterday, I had a sudden insight into something that I thought I had already accepted and assimilated: the fact that I have caused terrible pain to the people I cared most about.
I thought I had already owned that, and owned up to it, but suddenly it sank in just a bit deeper, the false hope and disappointment I had created by my careless actions.
It is hard to accept that reality. Apparently I can only do it in small increments.
Still, the reality is what it is. I did do those things, and I had that effect. All I can do now is to admit to what I have done, apologize for it, and try to do better in years to come.
I know that I am not saying anything that I haven't said before, but periodically I can see these things that I am saying again more clearly.
Quakers have a way of saying, "I'll hold him in the Light" to mean they will be praying for him. My wife and I have a joke, "We'll hold him in the Light so God can see him better". But maybe when I am held in the Light, it helps me see more clearly, too. And maybe I have been granted a bit of enlightenment, in spite of everything.
I thought I had already owned that, and owned up to it, but suddenly it sank in just a bit deeper, the false hope and disappointment I had created by my careless actions.
It is hard to accept that reality. Apparently I can only do it in small increments.
Still, the reality is what it is. I did do those things, and I had that effect. All I can do now is to admit to what I have done, apologize for it, and try to do better in years to come.
I know that I am not saying anything that I haven't said before, but periodically I can see these things that I am saying again more clearly.
Quakers have a way of saying, "I'll hold him in the Light" to mean they will be praying for him. My wife and I have a joke, "We'll hold him in the Light so God can see him better". But maybe when I am held in the Light, it helps me see more clearly, too. And maybe I have been granted a bit of enlightenment, in spite of everything.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
My Favorite Christmas Story
[This is a story I enjoy reciting aloud to groups of people. It usually gets a good reception, if they stick with it and get past an opening that sounds like it's just a rude joke. It's a retelling of a story I read in an anthology some years ago -- no idea of title, author or publishing history -- does anyone recognize it?]
Our story begins on a cold, wet, slushy Winter night, many years ago, when a group of impoverished swineherds were sitting up with their charges, cursing and quarreling and fighting over the jug, when the ground before them suddenly split open, and with a gout of flame and a roiling cloud of sulfurous smoke, a hideous demon rose before them.
"Are you scared? Good. Now listen close: five miles to the south there is the ruin of an abandoned tavern, and in it you will find a whore who has just given birth. Bow down before her child and worship him, or I'll break your heads."
The demon vanished, and the swineherds hastily hurried off. Soon they came to the ruined tavern, and in it they found a skinny, ragged girl clutching an ugly little baby covered in black hair. They bowed down before him and then hurried off as quickly as they thought safe, except for one of their number who paused to take off her shawl and tuck it around the child, saying, "The mite looks cold."
Once they were alone again, the child said, "Mother, those people bowed down before me because they were afraid of Father and Father's demon, but I don't think that is why the woman gave me her shawl."
"No, dear. I think she did that out of friendship."
"Is friendship important?"
"I think sometimes it is."
Soon after, the mother and child were joined by new visitors, this time three Princes out of the East.
They too bowed down before him, and then the first approached and set down an urn full of silver coins, saying, "People will do almost anything if you give them enough silver."
The second Prince then approached, and opened a chest of opium, saying, "People will do things for opium that they won't do for any amount of silver."
The third Prince offered the child a vial of arsenic, observing, "If you meet someone who can't be bought with silver or opium or anything else, you can always get rid of him."
Then the three Princes bowed low and retired, leaving the mother and child alone again.
Eventually, the child said, "Mother, the Princes bowed down to me and gave me gifts, but they did that because they thought they could gain power by helping Father, didn't they? I don't think any of them was a friend."
"No, dear. Princes seldom have any friends."
Last of all from out of the West came the child's father himself, a far more terrifying creature than his servant. He looked down on his son and said,
"It is good. This child will grow and be loved and feared by all for his powers of illusion-making and prophesy, and he will be sought by all kings for their courts. And soon the Great King will be born, and you my son will be his teacher and counselor, and shape him into the king I need, to conquer the realm I need, to raise the army I need for the final battle, and all will occur as I desire."
Saying this, he departed, and the mother and child knew they would not be disturbed again that night. After a long silence, the mother finally spoke, saying,
"Dear, is it true what your father said, that you have the gift of prophesy? Can you see the future?"
"Yes, Mother. I can see the future more clearly than Father can, and I know something important that Father doesn't know."
"What's that, Merlin?"
"I know that Arthur will be my friend."
[I love that story.]
Our story begins on a cold, wet, slushy Winter night, many years ago, when a group of impoverished swineherds were sitting up with their charges, cursing and quarreling and fighting over the jug, when the ground before them suddenly split open, and with a gout of flame and a roiling cloud of sulfurous smoke, a hideous demon rose before them.
"Are you scared? Good. Now listen close: five miles to the south there is the ruin of an abandoned tavern, and in it you will find a whore who has just given birth. Bow down before her child and worship him, or I'll break your heads."
The demon vanished, and the swineherds hastily hurried off. Soon they came to the ruined tavern, and in it they found a skinny, ragged girl clutching an ugly little baby covered in black hair. They bowed down before him and then hurried off as quickly as they thought safe, except for one of their number who paused to take off her shawl and tuck it around the child, saying, "The mite looks cold."
Once they were alone again, the child said, "Mother, those people bowed down before me because they were afraid of Father and Father's demon, but I don't think that is why the woman gave me her shawl."
"No, dear. I think she did that out of friendship."
"Is friendship important?"
"I think sometimes it is."
Soon after, the mother and child were joined by new visitors, this time three Princes out of the East.
They too bowed down before him, and then the first approached and set down an urn full of silver coins, saying, "People will do almost anything if you give them enough silver."
The second Prince then approached, and opened a chest of opium, saying, "People will do things for opium that they won't do for any amount of silver."
The third Prince offered the child a vial of arsenic, observing, "If you meet someone who can't be bought with silver or opium or anything else, you can always get rid of him."
Then the three Princes bowed low and retired, leaving the mother and child alone again.
Eventually, the child said, "Mother, the Princes bowed down to me and gave me gifts, but they did that because they thought they could gain power by helping Father, didn't they? I don't think any of them was a friend."
"No, dear. Princes seldom have any friends."
Last of all from out of the West came the child's father himself, a far more terrifying creature than his servant. He looked down on his son and said,
"It is good. This child will grow and be loved and feared by all for his powers of illusion-making and prophesy, and he will be sought by all kings for their courts. And soon the Great King will be born, and you my son will be his teacher and counselor, and shape him into the king I need, to conquer the realm I need, to raise the army I need for the final battle, and all will occur as I desire."
Saying this, he departed, and the mother and child knew they would not be disturbed again that night. After a long silence, the mother finally spoke, saying,
"Dear, is it true what your father said, that you have the gift of prophesy? Can you see the future?"
"Yes, Mother. I can see the future more clearly than Father can, and I know something important that Father doesn't know."
"What's that, Merlin?"
"I know that Arthur will be my friend."
[I love that story.]
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Monday, December 21, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Unexplained . . . .
Over at Shakesville ( http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2009/12/question-of-day_10.html?dsq=25496616#comment-25496616 ) the Question of the Day is whether you have had any personal experience of "the unexplained": ghosts, UFOs, telepathy, &c.
It reminded me of when my brothers and I were little, and we would make up our own radio shows, complete with commercials and theme songs. One of our favorites was introduced with a thin, spooky voice singing: "Unexplained . . . unexplained . . . Unexplained Phenomena!" [THUMP THUMP!]
Here is my answer, inspired by a couple of dozen earlier ones:
I have always described myself as suffering from tinnitus (in the form of prolonged high-pitched whines akin to the behavior of malfunctioning electronics), but after reading a comment at Shakesville, I'm thinking of starting to call it "exploding head syndrome": http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exploding_head_syndrome
In response to someone who has been troubled by undulating walls, I observe that I can deliberately make a wall or ceiling begin to seemingly undulate, if I stare at it long enough. It's just an artifact of the way the nervous system is put together, not a physical phenomenon. You don't need to be scared of it. In fact, it can help to pass a boring interval.
In response to several references to sleep paralysis, I told the story of how I once came into my little son's bedroom and saw him staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He seemed so strange, for a moment I thought he must be dead, but when I spoke to him, he blinked and then closed his eyes and relaxed into normal sleep. I woke him to sleep. Wow.
In response to someone whose "UFO" turned out to be a blimp, I said that I once saw a blimp passing overhead, and for a moment of terror and elation was convinced that I had slipped into some alternate world.
Regarding ghosts, I don't believe in them, but if I ever see any evidence of their presence, I won't go out of my way to ignore it, either.
But my one genuine unexplained experience is having read a summary of a comic book story (Superboy & the Legion of Super-Heroes #195, 1973: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wildfire_%28comics%29) before it was ever published, and possibly before it was written. Pretty minor, right? But I have no rational explanation for how I could have the vivid memory of reading a text page in a comic book which described the debut and apparent death of ERG-1 before he was published. Spooky....
It reminded me of when my brothers and I were little, and we would make up our own radio shows, complete with commercials and theme songs. One of our favorites was introduced with a thin, spooky voice singing: "Unexplained . . . unexplained . . . Unexplained Phenomena!" [THUMP THUMP!]
Here is my answer, inspired by a couple of dozen earlier ones:
I have always described myself as suffering from tinnitus (in the form of prolonged high-pitched whines akin to the behavior of malfunctioning electronics), but after reading a comment at Shakesville, I'm thinking of starting to call it "exploding head syndrome": http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exploding_head_syndrome
In response to someone who has been troubled by undulating walls, I observe that I can deliberately make a wall or ceiling begin to seemingly undulate, if I stare at it long enough. It's just an artifact of the way the nervous system is put together, not a physical phenomenon. You don't need to be scared of it. In fact, it can help to pass a boring interval.
In response to several references to sleep paralysis, I told the story of how I once came into my little son's bedroom and saw him staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He seemed so strange, for a moment I thought he must be dead, but when I spoke to him, he blinked and then closed his eyes and relaxed into normal sleep. I woke him to sleep. Wow.
In response to someone whose "UFO" turned out to be a blimp, I said that I once saw a blimp passing overhead, and for a moment of terror and elation was convinced that I had slipped into some alternate world.
Regarding ghosts, I don't believe in them, but if I ever see any evidence of their presence, I won't go out of my way to ignore it, either.
But my one genuine unexplained experience is having read a summary of a comic book story (Superboy & the Legion of Super-Heroes #195, 1973: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wildfire_%28comics%29) before it was ever published, and possibly before it was written. Pretty minor, right? But I have no rational explanation for how I could have the vivid memory of reading a text page in a comic book which described the debut and apparent death of ERG-1 before he was published. Spooky....
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Reflections
If I had it to do all over again, how would I do things?
If I could rewrite my life so that it did not include the pain I caused to my wife, and to R, and to N, and to others . . . .
But in that case, I would not have had so many good, rewarding experiences, ranging from the birth of R-boy to the simple good times I had with each of my lovers.
So I am in the position of feeling terribly guilty over actions by which I benefitted immensely, some of which I simply could not wish undone.
So what does that make me?
Maybe just...an American.
If I could rewrite my life so that it did not include the pain I caused to my wife, and to R, and to N, and to others . . . .
But in that case, I would not have had so many good, rewarding experiences, ranging from the birth of R-boy to the simple good times I had with each of my lovers.
So I am in the position of feeling terribly guilty over actions by which I benefitted immensely, some of which I simply could not wish undone.
So what does that make me?
Maybe just...an American.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
You Not Read This
The following passage is highly offensive and blasphemous, and you should not read it:
"the pain of consummation soon melted away. Muhammad was so gentle. I hardly felt the scorpion's sting. To be in his arms, skin to skin, was the bliss I had longed for all my life."
You also should not read the rest of the manuscript, which is why Random House is withholding publication.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121797979078815073.html?mod=opinion_main_commentaries
Now say thank you.
"the pain of consummation soon melted away. Muhammad was so gentle. I hardly felt the scorpion's sting. To be in his arms, skin to skin, was the bliss I had longed for all my life."
You also should not read the rest of the manuscript, which is why Random House is withholding publication.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB121797979078815073.html?mod=opinion_main_commentaries
Now say thank you.
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