Demeter

Demeter has been on my mind a lot lately.  You know, the goddess of the harvest?  But Demeter was more than the goddess of the harvest.  She also presided over marriage, life and death, fertility.  A bit of research reveals that she was really seen as Mother Earth -- "De" possibly deriving from the word for "earth" and the "meter" in her name meaning "mother."  So while being divine, she was first and foremost a mother.

The Demeter myth I always loved most is the myth concerning her daughter, Persephone.  Hades, the king of the Underworld, falls in love with Persephone,  so he kidnaps her and whisks her away to his kingdom of the dead.  Meanwhile, Demeter is heartbroken.  She doesn't know where Persephone is, so she traipses all over the world looking for her. Because of her grief, she neglects to take care of the things that are in her power such as the growing of grain, production of fruits, basically all vegetative life itself.  A huge draught covers the world and nothing grows.  Famine threatens all mankind, so Zeus finally has to intercede.  He knows Hades has Persephone, and he demands that she be returned her to her mother.  Hades agrees as long as Persephone did not eat anything while in his home.  Unfortunately, Persephone did eat something.  She ate six pomegranate seeds.  So a bargain is struck.    For six months, Persephone could be with her mother.  But, for six months, she had to stay with Hades in the Underworld.

This was the myth that helped the ancients explain the seasons.  Spring and Summer were the months Persephone spent with her mother, and the results of Demeter's immense joy was the rich vibrancy when the earth flourished.  Autumn and Winter were the months Persephone spent with Hades, and Demeter's grief was so great that nothing would grow.

That's the myth in a nutshell.  There are more components to the story that encompass Demeter's travels while looking for Persephone.  But this was the part that keeps circulating in my head.  And I never really grasped it... until now.

Rachel, my oldest daughter, left for France this week to study abroad in Paris.  We have been planning this for years, actually.  She went to Paris with her French class in high school, and ever since then, she knew she wanted to go back.  One of her best friends is there with her, and we all know that this will be a life altering experience.

What I didn't expect is how my heart and soul would react to her absence.

She is a junior in college, so I have grown use to not having her here at home all the time.  But her college is less than an hour away, so we still see her often enough.  This last week has been full of little good byes to friends as they went back to college and co-workers at her shop where she worked.  We have run errands for last minutes "must haves."  And we have laughed and shivered with excitement and cried with separation anxiety. And then the reality hit us both as we had our last goodbye at JFK, and I watched her go through security.  That was it... From that moment on, she is on her own.

And the grief that fills my deepest core mirrors the cold, hard, snowy landscape outside my window.  I have no urge to do anything - to read, knit, play cello, cook...  I just want to curl up in a fetal position and cry.

I finally understand Demeter.

But after I give in to my emotionally illogical side, I sit up, pull myself together, and remember that Paris is no where near Hades!

And not all separations are negative.  And she is suppose to grow up and away.  And this is all part of Rachel the girl becoming Rachel the woman.  And we raised her for such a time as this.  And she was never meant to stay home, with us, forever.

Rachel has a term of endearment for me.  I am a bit of a tree-hugger, and she has always been surrounded by various environmental experiences.  Such as the time I tried red worm composting under the kitchen sink.  Or my current endeavor with bee keeping.  We have flowers beds, herb and vegetable gardens everywhere.  We have had pet hamsters, mice, rats, fish, birds, rabbits as well as our loving dogs.  So in her studies of French, she has lovingly dubbed me Mere la Terre.

Mother Earth.

Now I feel I have finally earned that name.

But boy, am I glad my emotional state does not affect the weather...

Although, we have had record breaking cold temps all week.  And it did snow last night for the first time this month...

Hmmmmm.......

Green

"One morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green..."  -The Hobbit

Green.  The color of growing things.  Life.  My favorite color with so many shades.  I wear earthy green the most, yet I tend to decorate with sea foam green.  Green must be God's favorite color as well since He uses it so much.  He throws in reds, purples, yellows against a green/blue background.  And for a moment, they take our breath away - the sound of admiring ooo's and ah's fill the air as we startle at the vibrant red of the hollyberry or the scarlet tanager.  And for a while, we forget about green for it is too common... too ordinary.

Maybe that is why I identify with green.  It is constant.  Calming.  Rooted.  Providing a backdrop for the extraordinary.  Unnoticed until absent.  I like that.  Gives me peace... makes me sigh... because green is everywhere providing home anywhere we go.  That is the magic of green.

I have a short quote on my desk - it says "Be content with obscurity."  Simple. To the point.  Yet rages against my egocentric soul.  I want to be noticed, praised, the best, famous...  When I die, I want the world to know that I lived.  Because if not, then what is the whole reason for even being here?

And then I found that quote in this section of the Bible -- "pursue things over which Christ presides.  Don't shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you.  Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ... See things from his perspective.  Your old life is dead.  Your new life, which is your real life -- is with Christ in God.  He is your life.  When Christ... shows up again on this earth, you'll show up, too -- the real you, the glorious you.  Meanwhile, be content with obscurity, like Christ." - Colossians 3

Obscurity has a two part definition - the state of being unknown, inconspicuous, or unimportant.  But it also means the quality of being difficult to understand.  I don't think it is one or the other but both... To be obscure is to let our own glory be found in Christ -- to be about the things that He is about, to let his love shine out of us.  And He never sought his own glory. This concept of being the background which allows another to be seen is so contrary to our nature - and it is difficult for our culture to understand.

Green.  Inconspicuous.  Allows red and purple and yellow to shine forth.  Counter culture.

Find your glory in being green.

Retreat

They pulled me into their circle,

this group of white clad brothers.

A stranger.  A pilgrim.  Empty.  Dumb.

But they pulled me in...

...with a smile

...a small wave of the hand.

They ushered me into their 

Celebration of Life!

And there... in the round...

We greeted.  Embraced.  Blessed.

Shared...

Body of Christ.

Blood of Christ.

Life Eternal.

Osama

[I wrote the following in my journal a year ago in response to the death of Osama bin Laden.]


"God does not delight in the death of the wicked."  The weight of that statement bears down on me today.  I know God (according to the Bible) often commanded that certain enemies be wiped out.  But even David wept when his long time enemy, Saul, was finally killed.  He even wrote a poem about him.

God sees our enemies before they become our enemies.  God saw little Adolph in Austria at his mother's knee.  God saw Osama the day he was born.  Gaddafi, Idi Amin, Stalin, Mussolini - the list goes on.  God saw them all, and God knew them.  They were His creation, and they delighted Him just because they lived...

God also saw when it all started to go bad -- the abuse, the misleading teacher, the wicked mentor, the false propaganda.  God saw it all as the innocence of youth was lost and perversity set it.  I watch the Super Nanny (when I can stomach it), and I marvel at these horrid little children and the parents that put up with them.  Then I think - Hitler, Osama, Gadaffi - they did not just "happen."  They were "made."  Who messed them up?  Who taught them evil? Who made them into the monsters they became?

That is why God weeps when they fall.  They could have been so different.  They could have "used their powers for good instead of evil."

After Star Wars came out in 1977, we all hated Darth Vader.  He was the embodiment of pure evil.  By the time Return of the Jedi came out in 1983, we were hoping Luke was right and something good still lived behind the mask.  After the last three movies were released, and we saw the morphing of Anakin Skywalker into Darth Vader, we gained a deeper understanding into his character.  Now, when we watch the original Star Wars, Darth Vader doesn't seem quite so scary.  We look at him, and we remember little Anakin who won the speeder race on Tatooine.

I think that must be God's perspective as well... He looks at Osama and sees the little boy he once was and the man he could have become.  And since God does not rejoice over his demise, I cannot either.

But emotions are running high, and they are mixed.  I do understand WHY most of America is rejoicing...  We are all experiencing relief, vindication for loss lives, a sense of justice.  We are more hopeful that our men and women fighting in Afghanistan will return home sooner.  We are joyful that oppression of the Arab world may be lessened now.  We pray for the demise of the Taliban now that they have lost their leader.  There are many positive feelings the death of Osama produces.  And there is a deep sense of gratitude to those Navy Seals who risked their lives to bring an end to an evil regime.

I am also pondering another statement.  Jesus said, "Behold, I make all things new."  So in the midst of all these mixed emotions, I turn my face to the sun, breathe deeply, and wait for the day when ALL things are new... But what if, when that day comes, Judas, Hitler, Osama are all there -- restored, new, doing what they were originally created for before they were tainted?  What if Dahmer and Bundy and Timothy McVey are all there, too?  Would we be grateful that we serve and love a God who truly makes all things new?  Or would we be angry to share the kingdom with people who screwed up so horribly the first time around?

I loved the end of The Return of the Jedi when the spirit of Anakin Skywalker, once again dressed in the robes of a Jedi, stands with the spirits of Obi Wan and Yoda.  Despite it all, Anakin has been restored.  And while all the rest of the universe is celebrating over the end of an evil regime, Luke quietly smiles because a much bigger battle has been won.

I believe in that God...

Guns

Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.

- Martin Luther King, Jr.

My youngest daughter, Emilie, will be 16 in December. With that momentous birthday comes the pure ecstasy of driving a car.  I remember counting down the days until I could get my permit.  And I will NEVER forget the first time my parents let me take the car out alone without any supervision.  Pure freedom!

The State of Pennsylvania puts new drivers through some pretty strict requirements before they can get their license.  In fact, after witnessing the rise in fatal motor vehicle accidents amongst 16-18 year olds, the State has even more requirements now then when my oldest daughter got her license.  New drivers must now log 65 hours of documented supervised driving - up from the previous 50 hours.  Ten of those hours must include night driving, and five must include driving during bad weather. Drivers and passengers under 18 must wear seat belts and can be stopped by police if they are not.  During the first six months, a newly licensed driver may only have one passenger under the age of 18 in their vehicle unless there is another adult in the vehicle as well.  And after the first six months, if the driver has proven to be a good driver (no accidents or violations), he or she may have up to three passengers under the age of 18 in the vehicle.

In addition to the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation requirements, the high school’s semester long driver’s education course goes into great detail explaining various driving laws, meanings of road signs and lane markings, emotional and physical factors that go into driving, handling road rage in yourself and in other drivers, dealing with distractions, and a host of other topics that all ensure that the new driver has every possible assurance of being a success behind the wheel.

Why do we take so much time and effort to assure that our young drivers are fully able to drive a car?  Because in the hands of an inexperienced driver, a vehicle can become a weapon.  A quick on line search revealed an average of thirty to forty-thousand people die in car accidents each year in the United States - that number including pedestrians struck by vehicles as well as drivers and passengers.  

So, here is the crux of my issue.  We spend all this time to assure our drivers are able to handle the massive weapon that an automobile could become, yet we do not demand the same requirements for someone that buys a gun.  I understand the dictum that if we do not allow civilians to own guns, then only the criminals will have guns.  Yet the latest massive shooting sprees are the result of otherwise "ordinary" citizens, without a criminal record, who buy a gun and go berserk.  How many times, after a horrific shooting, have we heard such comments:  “He seemed like such a nice guy.  He was very quiet and unassuming.  He was a like-able guy.  I never expected this from someone like him.  I am so shocked that it was him.”  And when the newscaster states “police have yet to discover a motive,” my gut response is -- “MOTIVE!  Let’s focus less on MOTIVE and figure out how the heck did a crazy like that get a gun in the first place?” 

I think of our law enforcement officials who have the heavy burden of carrying a weapon.  If a shooting occurs while they are on the job, the officer must relinquish his weapon for a time while the incident is reviewed.  When it is assured that the officer was in the right, his or her gun is returned.  

What if the civilian requirements for buying and owning a gun were the same as the training and handling requirements that law enforcement officials endure?  What if, like driving, a person must acquire a learner’s permit and log hours of both physical handling and classroom training.  The gun would be kept in the training center where the prospective owner must log so many hours of physical usage such as safe handling, target practice, cleaning and maintenance.  Along with the physical handling, he must also log hours of class time where physical and psychological matters are discussed such as anger management, personal protection, and most importantly, conflict resolution options other than firing a gun.

My husband will never forget an incident that occurred early in his medical career.  He was working in an emergency room when a psychotic patient grabbed a scalpel and threatened the medical workers in the unit.  A police officer (and a friend of ours) happened to be in the unit at the same time.  He drew his gun on the patient, but with extreme control, he directed the man to put the weapon down.  “You don’t want me to use this,” he assured the patient.  But most importantly, the officer himself did not want to use the gun, either.  Steve was so impressed by our friend’s restraint in a time of extreme chaos.  I know Paul would have used his gun if it meant protecting the ER staff, but I also know, with his amount of training, he could effectively disable the weapon wielding patient without killing him.  Steve witnessed the proper and respectful use of a gun in the hands of a trained professional, and the impact made on him was huge.

Emilie must complete 65 hours of supervised training plus a driver’s education course, and she still cannot get her driver’s license until she has been driving under a learner’s permit for six months.  The State of Pennsylvania hopes that these strict requirements will cut down the amount of teenage motor vehicle deaths within the state.

Perhaps a similar approach to gun ownership would cut down the amount of deaths by homicide as well...

More Labels

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing-- to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts. 

- John Keats

A friend and reader commented not too long ago on my reading list.  Knowing me the way she does, she was surprised that I was reading Christopher Hitchins, a devout atheist.  But as the above quote indicates, how does one's gestalt take form if we only engage in the things that strengthen our bias?

As far as our personal gestalt is concerned, most of us can be labeled theist or atheist.  Under the label of theist, we are labeled Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist to only name the big five.  Under my particular label of Christian, there is Protestant or Catholic or Orthodox.  Under Protestant, there is Lutheran, Anglican, Episcopalian, Methodist, Baptist, Presbyterian, Mennonite, Quaker.  I could keep going.  Really.  Because there are more.  For instance, under the label of Baptist, there is American Baptist, Southern Baptist, Primitive Baptist, General Assembly of Regular Baptists, Independent Baptists, and many, many, many other Baptists that I am probably unaware of.

Now, from the ages of birth to seven, my classification was such: Theist, Christian, Protestant, Baptist, General Assembly of Regular Baptists.  At the age of seven, my parents started looking for a different church that had a more active youth group for my teenage brothers.  We decided to change to the First Baptist Church of our neighboring town.  However, this was an American Baptist Church (ABC), and the General Assembly of Regular Baptists (hereto known as GARBS) did not recognize the American Baptists as legitimate believers.  Their doctrine was too liberal in their eyes, so they refused to transfer our membership over to the ABC.  So, under the fear of hell fire and the promise that their children would become apostate, my parents changed churches anyway.  

At the age of 14, my parents and I (brothers were out on their own by now) longed for a more local community, so we decided to attend the little Methodist church in our own hometown.  If you think it was heretical to hop between Baptist conventions, can you imagine the horror when we decide to attend a church with an opposing doctrinal basis?  After all - Methodists were from an Armenian background that did not believe in the security of the believer.  Baptists came from a Calvin background - once saved, always saved.  My family had REALLY stepped over the line now...

As a young married couple, we tried a Weslyan church, stepped outside the box even more by going to a contemporary “hippie” church, ended up in the “seeker” driven church movement, dabbled in the emergent church, until we ended up where we are now.  

We don’t go to church.

Funny.  Theists are suppose to believe in god of some form. Yet the divisions in just one sect of Christendom defies the prayer of Jesus that his followers be unified.  Other theists are just as bad - how many sects of Judaism? Buddhism? Hinduism?  Islam?  Practically every day on the news, I see reports of Sunni Muslims killed by Shiite Muslims.  Don't they ALL read the same Koran?

Yet the atheists seemed remarkably united by the simplicity of their unbelief.  Interesting...

I’m tired of labels.  

Sometimes I thinkI am an atheist - I don't fit in to any of the prescribed religious institutions that exists.  Concerned friends believe I am apostate.  Today I told my husband, "I can't go back to church now; they'd burn me as a witch."

But underlying it all is this sense that Someone is always with me.  Alone in the car, I am having a conversation -- with Someone.  Since childhood, I have had this feeling like my life is a movie and I am an actor on the screen.  And it is all playing out before me.  And I just have to go along with the plot line and scene changes and chapter movements...  But in all that, I still have this sense of Something that is Bigger than I am.  And I like it...  I am not willing to give up that Awe and Wonder and Immense Love that some people like to call God.  

Yet I am not a Theist in the prescribed definition of countless of churches, temples, and mosques.  I simply believe that Love is what makes the world go around.  And Love seems to be the thing that eludes most organized religions - at least in my experience.  And I think the man Jesus did a really good job of living a life of Love.  So, he's my hero.  And I look to his life as a model for my own.

For those of you that totally track with my thoughts in this blog - be at peace.  You are not alone.  There are quite a few of us out there.

And for those of you that have made it this far in life and have found that religion answers your questions and fills all your needs, pray for the rest of us.  Maybe some day we will figure it all out too.

Labels

Labels exist for the convenience of the labeler.  -- Dennis Palumbo, author


I like labels.
     Labels keep me organized.
     I have labels in the kitchen.  All the tea tins are labeled with wipe off marker so I know exactly what kind of tea lies within.  And if I get different teas, I can wipe off the old label and put on a new one.  I have labels on my spices in the spice drawer.  I write the spice on the top of the lid so I can just look down and know which is which without having to take each jar out of the drawer to see what it is.
     I have labels In the linen closet on the bins that contain our bed sheets:  T for Twin, D for Double, and Q for Queen.  So when everyone is making up their beds, they know exactly where the sheets are for their bed.  And if they are putting clean sheets away, once again, they know where to put them.  Perfect.
     I have labels in the TV room on the colorful file boxes where I keep all our DVD's.  Romance and Comedy. War and Adventure. Kids.  Exercise.  (Now the trick is to get everyone in the house to put the DVD's away in the appropriate box when they are done watching them. Ha.)
     I have labels in the office which is where one would expect a plethora of labels to exist:  labels on file folders, labels on three-ringed binders, labels on check boxes... To do, Download, Job Report, Expense Report, Reimbursements, Receipts, Mileage Log...
     I don't just like labels.  I LOVE labels.
     I guess I am a bit OCD.  Or - I suffer a bit from obsessive compulsive disorder.  But my OCD just compensates for my ADD.  You know - attention deficit disorder.  So, because I have an issue keeping focused, I label everything to help me remember where everything is.  So I guess I am  OCD and ADD.
     Hmmm.  Something's not right here.  Feeling a little funny about the label thing right now.  I mean, labels are great when they are completely accurate.  If I write PG Tips on the tea tin, I know that when I open that tin, I will get a PG Tips tea bag.  But I don't really like the fact that I think I can slap a label across a person and expect to know exactly what I will get when I encounter them.
     I may be an organized person, but I am not OCD.
     I may forget things once in a while and get distracted, but I am not ADD.
     These days, I find that I am cautious when I meet someone for the first time.  I don't like to tell them I am a Christian.  That label puts me into a specific demography of which I have never quite fit.  I don't want to tell them I am a Democrat or a Republican or an Independent.  I don't want to tell them I am a doctor's wife or a stay-at-home mom. All those labels place me into specific tea tins, and I don't believe I fit into any particular one.  In fact, I would have to be chopped up into several pieces in order to be placed into each of the appropriately labeled tins.
     Yet, I must admit that I label people on a regular basis.  Per the opening quote - it is convenient for me if I can put friends and acquaintances into certain groupings:  "Oh, he's a right-winged conservative.  She's a flaming liberal.  He's gay.  She's bi-polar.  He's a jock.  She's the cheerleader type.  That family is materialistic.  That mom and dad are helicopter parents.  He's slick like a politician."  I have even put labels on others that could accurately be placed on me.  "She's a typical doctor's wife." or "And he calls himself a Christian!"
     In this political year of heated debate and polarized perspectives, I am more and more aware of the labels I use regularly to demean and criticize those who's opinions differ from mine.  And yet I am reminded of the words of my hero, Jesus.  Unfortunately, his tiny country was occupied by a cruel and oppressive regime  - the Roman Empire.  Despite the heated political tenor of his time, when asked the two greatest commands, he answered:  Love God with all you have, and love others the way you love yourself. And he lived out that dictum by surrounding himself with people from all walks of life:  men and women, conservatives and liberals, Harvard grads and vo-tech laborers, countrymen and foreigners, oppressors and oppressed, healthy and sick, rich and poor, joyful and sad.
     I "attempt" to live by his words.  I don't struggle so much with the "love God" part.  But I find that every time I tack a label onto someone, I am unconsciously providing a reason to not love them.  And I find that the label I so smugly place on an Other is usually a label that defines the parts of my own self that I so want to change.
     Maybe that's why Jesus said to love others like you love yourself.  Perhaps we are all so full of self-loathing that we dissect out those ugly parts of our own ego and tack them on to the Others around us. Maybe, if we are kinder to our self, we will be kinder to others.  Maybe, if we try to love our self, we will be able to love others.
     I'm going to try.