The Slasher Flick as the Male's Expression of the Anima

Have you considered the "Dead Teenager Movies." I rented Final Destination 3 the other day and they had an extra on the DVD that talked about the "Dead Teenager Movies." To make it simple these are slasher flicks where teenagers die in large numbers, various examples: Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday the Thirteenth, and Halloween. There are many others, but you get the picture.

The move often centers on two main characters, the slasher and the heroine. I suppose it might be a hero but often the movie brings a woman to the forefront. In the beginning of the movie we often find this woman taking a stance on sexual improprieties, and in some ways appearing chaste. The funny thing is that it isn’t necessarily their choice it just happens to work that way, they are never unattractive and often picked because they are attractive, but not the "Hot ditzy chick." This woman/girl is girl next door pretty, the one you take home to mom. She is also strong willed and able to defend herself and even often conquer the antagonist of the film.
Take also into account that most of the people who come to these movies are male teenagers. Why is it that a male wants to come and watch a woman who will undoubtedly have the chance to score but will not, and also at some point will be bound, either by rope or in a cage of sorts conquer.

I have an idea. One of Jung’s most popular archetypes was the Anima/Animus. The Anima is (for men) the female aspect of the soul, and the Animus (for woman) being the male aspect. Theoretically all people have both parts of the soul represented by archetypes and through life will try to express appropriately both sides. When one side is not expressed appropriately the collective unconscious will try, often through dreams, but also through fantasies to allow this aspect of the self to be expressed.

As one comes to a slasher flick males get the opportunity to express many different aspects of these relationships. First the male understands his own feminine sexuality (not to be confused with homo-erroticism) and at the same time sees expressed some form of ultimate woman, one who is "touring the facilities and picking up slack (listen the cake song, short skirt long jacket). This woman is perfect; she is feminine, attractive, and tough. At some point in the movie she will be bound, expressing the males desire to bind his own anima, and then she will be loosed, and the male will figure out that embracing the anima is not embracing weakness but strength.
To conclude, I think these movies represent something that has shifted to the periphery in our culture, something that needs re-connected with. We have been given this false version of masculinity that has no room for a natural femininity. This need, suppressed but the consciousness, is then expressed in by those who make the movies, and by those who passively watch them.

However, it is important to note that passive experience of the anima in a movie is not equivalent to appropriate expression through the conscious mind.

Let me know what you think.

Haven't posted in a while

Haven't posted in a while, sorry between my Myspace and Facebook accounts and the fact I have to use the public library I don't get to post much. I am currently working on an article that I hope to post, it will be about the archetyple of the Faustian deal in relation to integration of the shadow.

You're like a bear man!!!

Went to the casino's last night, not to play the slots but to see a concert. The Big Bad Voodoo Daddy were playing. When the song "You me and the bottle," came on and I started dancing I thought back to college. It was BBVD and the movie swingers that lead me to wanting to learn to dance. Shoot that goes back to freshman year at college, what did we call it, "The ultimate guy movie." It was a great show got a phone pic (really blury) pic with the lead singer. Got a few signatures on my ticket. They commented on my dancing and I told them about watching the dance scene in Swingers and then wanting to learn to dance. The dude just smiled and nodded, letting me know he rememebered the movie.

It was a dream to dance to BBVD live... after the dance we Lindy bombed (Ramdomly started dancing to a funk band) the Casino. We were dancing between slot machines, it was great.

Mother's Day

Who needs the attention at the death or dying of a loved one?

My pager went off at 10:30 PM, I wasn’t looking forward to going on a call but they really wanted me in the ER. I left the oncall room, put on my chaplain’s lab coat, and began to walk. As I got to the ER I got the info from the nurse. 19 year old girl coughing up blood, three hours earlier she felt decent, the day before she had been released from a clinic saying she was "Okay." She died the day after mothers day (this is very important), it was 12:30 a dark Monday morning. She left 3 sisters, a mother, and a daughter 3 years old. I can make no judgement as to whether she was a good mother I just knew her baby knew who she was, sometimes that speaks enough for me. Regardless it is none of my business, at least not anymore, if she was a good mother.

See I witnessed the death of three mothers that day (when working a 24 hour shift a day goes from 7 AM to 7 AM Monday morning) it was one hell of a mothers day. I called my mom to tell her I love her, she said, "You must have heard the same sermon I did." My reply was, simply, "probably." It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been to church that day, God speaks regardless.
Have you ever tried to connect with a 3-year-old. I am a pediatric chaplain (at least currently) it is my job to know how. If I can just get her eye early in the night, make a face, do the stupid removing the thumb trick. I did all those things. I remember at one point of the night she was being overlooked, please don’t judge the family you weren’t there and sometimes when emotions get high even the best lose direction, she came to me and held my hand. Her mom had been in the ER under constant work for two hours now, maybe more… I squatted down to look her in the eye… she said something about her mommy and pointed to the crisis room… I don’t understand 3-year-old eese. She just walked toward me, leaned on me so I hugged her.
I am not a huggy person… I get it from my father, but this girl needed attention. I picked her up and she put her arms around my neck. I generally don’t opt to hold children, this was a exception. While I was holding this baby her mother was called. I shut my eyes and imagined the magnanimity of growing up with no mother, knowing that your mother died on mothers day… but then I looked at my watch 12:15 AM. Mothers day was over.

On a death call whom do I give attention to? The family was in shock they were in mourning and they were taking care of each other. I did my chaplain duties, I took them in to see their fallen kin, I walked them back and forth from the chapel, I made sure paper work was taken care of, I listened, hell, I got water for those who needed it, these things were easy. My heart broke for a three-year-old girl who lost her mom…

I am just arrogant enough to tell this story because it is a neat story about me. I can’t help that… Another chaplain said he pictured this as a statue with the inscription, "The chaplain comforts the dying mothers child." That feeds my ego, at least on one level. It also makes sense of tragedy… at least on my side. The family still has to make their own sense… but I will never forget the child saying, "Mommy," and pointing to the crisis room.

Somewhere in the midst of shit there is grace. Somewhere in the midst of Hell there is hope. Somewhere in death there is life… Sometimes I ask why I am the one who has to stand there in the middle. Maybe because I am just arrogant enough to do it… maybe because it is the only way I am humbled… maybe because when I don’t have the strength to control life, God does.

A year ago I was afraid to walk into the ER during crisis… I am not sure when the fear dissipated… maybe God increased… not necessarily in my whole life but this one aspect. Fuck… I don’t know anymore. I was talking to a chaplain who has walked this a lot longer than me, I asked him, "What is wrong with us that we choose to do this?" I think about that every time people ask me how I work as a chaplain at a pediatric hospital. "Some folk are just wired that way I guess…" or at least that is what I tell them, and even sometimes that is what I tell myself.

See it isn’t hard, at least not the way you think. I looked at my shoes the other day. My work shoes, they were new a year ago this week. Now they are old, but more comfortable than ever. I got a shoeshine in the airport… made em look real nice. A week before that I looked at them while attending to the death of a 15 year old girl. Her dad asked me, "Why would God take my baby."

I thought about that in the airport when I put my feet up on the foot rests and said to the shine guy, "They been through a lot man, whatever you can do I would appreciate." I ended up tippin the guy three bucks for a four dollar shine, I wish I could have tipped him more.

What I said to her dad and what I thought were two different things. What I said was, "I don’t know." What I thought was, "Because she got hit by a car." I know its cold a bit macabre, but it makes sense to me. I looked at my shoes while standing on a blood stained floor. The airport shoeshine guy made em look nice a week later, but some blood never gets washed away.
Maybe the significance, you know the reason I am talking about death and shoes, is that my work shoes are also my dancing shoes. Ecclesiastes tells us, "There is a time to mourn and a time to dance." Tradition be damned… I gotta make sense of this life somehow.

Anyway I don’t reckon I will ever have any statues built for me… and most of these families will never remember my name… but I am called to stand in the place between shit and grace. My blue coat is often like the shroud of death. Its okay sometimes, because I know someday I will cross the river Styx… I just hope someone remembers the two coins to pay the boatman.

We've been talkin bout Jackson ever since the fire went out

This in the news:

Dirty to Deep South

Memphis, TN: Justin McCreary is expected to announce today that in late August he will be moving to Jackson Mississippi. Jackson houses the GE Mongomery Memorial VA hospital. The hospital has a second year CPE program still in infancy. Justin's decision came through much prayer and consideration. When asked to comment on the move Justin said, "Get out of my face you stupid reporter." We can expect a word from Justin in the next few days concerning the move and some of his experiences as a pediatric chaplain in Memphis.

Down to the Crossroads

(All these pics were taken by my buddy Amanda (Bob)

These pictures are from a recent trip a few friends and I had taken to Clarksdale Mississippi for a blues festival (actually the annual "Juke Joint" Festival). Clarksdale was an interesting town, I like to think of it as the current home of the blues, I know I stay in Memphis and in theory I should claim it, but c'mon Beale is a sell out. There is a lot of music history in this small town. If you ever get the chance you should stop through on the weekend and check out some of the Juke Joints.

I know it just looks dark but that is the crossroads of 61 and 49 there is a myth that says Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil here. That isn't Robert or the Devil lurking in the darkness though it was me, and I was an hour late, it was 1:00 AM I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees

I went to the crossroads, fell down on my knees

Asked the Lord above, have mercy now, save poor Bob if you please

-Robert Johnson, Crossroad Blues

This is us dancing at a juke joint in Clarksdale MS at the Juke Joint festival two weeks ago. I think it is a neet pic, the slim guy in grey is me.

This is the group of us with Mr. Tator. Mr Tator recorded with Jimbo Mathus and has been described as the last "true" streat corner performer. I felt lucky to get this pic.

This is Ground Zero, Morgan Freeman's club in Clarksdale. It was allright but reminded me more of a honkytonk. It is sort of commercial, I liked the small juke joints better.

I just liked this picture of me.

Searching for Experience

This morning I was driving to work meditating on Johnny Cash/U2's song the Wanderer. I don't know if the song is meant to be overarchingly religious or if they simply use religious imagry. But even if it is not itself religious the imagry says a lot about the modern conception of religion in America, even if some of the comentators are right and he is talking about cold war Russia. Lets look at this one section.

I went out there
In search of experience
To taste and to touch
And to feel as much
As a man can Before he repents

This section is spoken (even differently that most of Cash' stuff is like it is spoken. This section underscores the carnality of human desire. On a top layer he is talking about food in the line, "to taste and to touch." I think we can relate this interpersonally as well, not only with sex, but also with desire. The singer leaves and wanders searching seeking to find as many experiences as he can, maybe to "get them under his belt," before he decides to change, before he repents.

I often wonder (wander) myself looking for experience, looking for life, a way to understand it in its fullness, its joys and pains, its happiness and suffering. And often catch myself thinking, "I can do this now, but when I am older and more settled I will have to think differently." What have we done to our religion that says, all fun must come before repentence, all fun must come as a youth so that in old age we can live more uprightly. I wonder if Jesus would want Christianity the way we understand it in the west. A Christianity where one spends all his time trying to stay pure, well maybe, but maybe Jesus would tell us we don't really understand purity.
See, I don't want to, "sin that grace may abound," but I also don't want to use my religion as an excuse to make my lack of experience and regret okay. CS Lewis contended we ourselves don't understand what being a Christian is. He seemed to think we have turned the word into a synonym for good, "Wow, that guy must be a Christian he is so nice." The culture has identified ethics and whatnot that align with concepts of right and wrong, good and bad, and many people choose to call those ethics Christian. They are similar ethics to that of the prechristian philosophers like Socraties, Plato, and Pathagoras. I would never say a Christian should ignore morality, and I would never say morality isn't normative, but I would say that in trying to keep othres from sin we have also crucified our freedom in Christ. For those of you who know me this harkens back to my philosophy of the use of language, but I think of this much more broadly, when I ask the question, not necissarily who is my brother, but who is my weaker brother. some of my weaker brothers are weaker so they can be manipulative and get their way. One author called it the "proffesional weaker brother."

Experience something today, taste, touch, feeling... even if you have already repented. These don't have to be bad things.

Confliction and Contemplation

A year as a Hospital Chaplain Resident has taught me a lot about... well... me. In this time I have done a lot of inner exploration and discovery. I had the experience to open my mind to different authors and look at different way people understand the psyche. The other day I was listening to the U2/Johnny Cash song "The Wanderer" and the words hit me hard. If you have never heard it, i am sure you can find it at you tube but the imagry is amazing. What strikes me so much about the song are the dichotemies.

I went drifting Through the capitals of tin
Where men can't walk
Or freely talk
And sons turn their fathers in
I stopped outside a church house
Where the citizens like to sit
They say they want the kingdom
But they don't want God in it

I can't say I know the meanings I just know the confliction, I was watching Reba Yesterday and they broke in with some breaking news thing, it was about this Imus guy. I didn't care and didn't think it should have been breaking news. I read what he said and it appalled me. But does that mean he should be fired. "Where man can't walk, or freely talk."

I think about the direction separation of church and state has gone, I am a fan, believe me, you can't be a true Campbelite without it, but I wonder if there is overkill instead of balance. It tests our freedoms the most when we have to defend people we diametrically oppose. Evelyn Beatrice Hall said Voltaire said, "I disagree with what you say but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Not a direct Voltaire quote but maybe a reflection of his thoughts.

The world is conflicted.

This is the phrase that gets me the most in the song:

I went out walking
With a bible and a gun
The word of God lay heavy on my heart
I was sure I was the one

No comment necissary

But the inner conflict of the world is a reflection of my own inner conflict, my own incongruities. Are any of ya'll incongruent?

This is sort of what my inconcruencies look like.


If you pay any attention to any of my later posts this is a modification of a zen garden of mine that stays pretty constant. The sun that was setting is now bleeding over the water. The raft I am sitting on is now in more conflict with the shadow to the right and light is now shining in the darkness. Light is now battling what Jung called the shadow. The shadow basically is that part of the self that we don't want anyone to see the thing we hide, often even subjectivly from ourselves. Often the shadow is the thing we hate most in others. When I look at people and wonder why in the world they might act or say something stupid, I contemplate what is going on within myself. I wonder what is this in me. Do I do this thing, or do I supress this thing because I like to do it. Does my mentality present an emortional binge and purge? It is like saying, "You can't do that it is wrong," but in truth feeling jealous because in the end they can do it and I wish I could too. facing the shadow is difficult, light must shine in the darkness, and the darkness must overcome it.

I am not so sure about this one, it is just the one I was thinking about. The lines oppose one another, why? I don't know they just do. There is a certain macabre to it. A balance, an annoying balance. Something as much above as it is below. Something just as low as it is high. Opposition... Frustration... like no matter how high one can go there is more burried more within that battles against the self, more that opposes the hights with which one can travel.

For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to
do—this I keep on doing.

So as I travel higher I go lower, I find that in the end my nature is currupt, maybe. Maybe yours isn't but there is a firmament around my true self, my real self... that corrupts me. But I do not stop looking nor do I flee from the things within myself, though it is easier to look to the issues of others and ignore them in me. Both of my gardens represent a battle with my shadow.


I know what your asking, "isn't this too much information?" My responce would be, "probably not, I think you are pretty screwed up yourself."


So how do I arrange this in my mind?

All I can do is just keep looking, because the darkness... well, it just can't stand the light.

Yeah I left with nothing Nothing but the thought of you I went wandering

Inner Peace

I have begun utilizing the Zen Garden as a relaxation technique. I actually have two miniature zen (or Rock) gardens. One represents an overarching theme, and the other a more "in the moment" picture of life.


This first garden is the current representation of my psyche. It is very personal but speaks to me of change and growth. There are two rivers feeding into one. One river is very familiar to me, the other is one that I do not know, a new trait, a new aspect of the self. Maybe growth from transition.
This next garden represents an overall theme that doesn't change from day to day but is morely seasonal. The sun is setting over the ocean. There is a raft on the ocean watching the sunset. The white rock is the raft. The dark rock by the white rock is a recent addition. I can only explain it as a Jungian archetype. It is part of the shadow. In this case there is an aspect of the self that is becomming more prevelant that maybe I don't have to fear. The dark stone at the center is the sun cooling off in water awaiting the next days rising. I remember the description of the sun setting in water in Bislama (a Pijin dialect in Vanuatu) "Sun he drown"
So that is the current walk through my less than conscious self, stay tuned for more.

Just a feeling

I usually am not one to post the lyrics to a song, but this is how I feel at the moment, I think I am just tired. However, I do love the imagry of this song. I remember two months ago when a friend of mine died this was one of the songs that played eternally in my soul. My only version of this song is in the album, the actual LP, there is just something special when I hear things like this on LP. I remember years ago when this song was introduced to me as a child. It was the only tape we had in the car, and anytime my mother would drive me anywhere over and over again we listed to this short album. It brings back memories for me of simple times, trips to camp, and sleeping in the car when someone else would drive. The entire album is amazing if you ever get the chance to hear it I recomend it. So anyway, maybe you are like me and don't need to hear the song, knowing the lyircs and tune are always enough for me, I can sing them forever in my mind.

So from the album "So Far" I present to you Crosby Stills Nash and Young, "Helplessy Hoping."

Helplessly hoping her harlequin hovers nearsby
Awaiting a word
Gasping at glimpses of gentle true spirit he runs wishing he could fly
only to trip at the sound of good-bye

Wordlessly watching he waits by the window and wonders at the empty place inside

Heartlessly helping himself to her bad dreams he worries
did he hear a good-bye or even
Hello

They are 1 person
They are too alone
They are 3 together
They are for each other

Stand by the stairway you'll see something certain to tell you
confusion has its cost
Love isn't lying its loose in a lady who lingers saying she is lost
And choking on hello

They are 1 person
They are too alone
They are 3 together
They are for each other

2 differrent movies, 1 plot, one happy camper

(Halt, movie spoilers)

Okay so you read my title, I am sure it drew you in, your thinking, what are these two movies? Well the first, I ended up seeing because "The 300" was sold out, was "Wild Hogs." After the movie all I could say was Wunderbar!!!! Four men stand against fifty bikers to reclaim their honor, it is on the field of batter their true selves.

The second movie I went to see on a Saturday afternoon, cause it was sold out friday, was "The 300." Leaving the the theater I was clapping my hands saying "bella bella," I mean what else is there 300 men stand against millions, and Esther's Husband, on the field of battle where they reclaim their honor (or something), but the true gift was that on the field of battle they found their true selves.

Both movies not only inspire those in the movies themselves to do greater things IE... a large Spartan Army, and the Town of Madirid standing against the Del Fuegos, but they inspire all the watchers to do the same as. One uses Comedy the other blood, and blood, and did I mention blood.

I give both movies a thumbs up, you know what that means, two thumbs... standing at attention ready to look the world in the eye and say, "sure we're just a set of thumbs but we're gonna kick your ass."

A few things I like

In no particular order but numbered for your convenience

1. Hot Oatmeal on a Cold day
2. New Castle after it has just started getting warm
3. Finally beating Freeza in DBZ Buddakai
4. Christian Imagry
5. Esoteric things, with a history (for example, I collect records)
6. A fast and perfect lindy swingout with a good follow
7. Bach played from an LP while I journal and drink coffee early in the morning
8. Female Jazz/Blues Singers
9. My balcony, my pipe, slow Jazz, and a warm breeze
10. A Hug from someone who cares and someone I care about
11. Cheese Fries from Huey's (on Madison)
12. Midtown (is Memphis)
13. Pizza and wine while watching Gilmore Girls
14. Classical Guitar
15. Liturgical Singing
16 on the list, 1 in my heart... Grandma's Front Porch Swing, especially after a morning of work with Grandad.

This was just something I thought of this morning.

The Creek pronounced crick

One of the other major memories of aquatic bodies is the creek, pronounced crick. I understand the creed differently than the river, let me explain. As a child many of my happiest memories came from the time I spent at my grandmother and grandfather’s house a few miles down Peter’s Run Road in Tridelphia West Virginia. I remember I would always anticipate the drive and even break down the various sections of the drive. It was close to a thirty-minute drive but my strongest feelings associate to the last five minutes.

From the main road we would turn left onto Peters Run Road. For three miles we would follow a creek on the right. As I would drive I would see the hill and vegetation on the left, and a series of bridges on the right. We would pass "Ye Ol’ Country Church" on the left then a hill with a series of steps for drainage (this road was prone to mudslides). As we pulled toward my grandfather’s bridge I would begin to get a deep anticipation. The bridge was small and some would say it was a little nerve racking to drive over yet it was a strong bridge.

I remember as a child putting my hands in the creek and feeling the cool water run across them. Many Creeks in West Virginia had turned orange from the coal mines, my grandfather’s was not one of them. We were never allowed to walk in them barefoot because people had the tendency to throw bottles from their cars into the Creek. I didn’t need to walk barefoot, Sometimes I would enjoy just standing on the bridge and looking down.

In the summers on some Saturday morning’s my father and I would go and drop a minnow trap. Grandfather’s Creek fueled my ability to go fishing. The minnows would swim in the trap and not be able to swim out. As I got older friends and I would go to this place and drop the trap ourselves, sometimes we would just use a sane, at that age we were old enough just to go into the creek in our shoes, unless we could get a hold of some waders. I remember feeling the cold water rush against the waders… it was calming.

The drive filled me with anticipation. It was a different anticipation from descending into the river. The later was an anticipation of rebellion, and the joy that comes with freedom and the ability to keep from being chained. Grandfather’s house was utopia. At my grandparents house I had no desire to break the rules, actually I was filled with a desire for just the opposite. At my grandparent’s house I wanted to act well (this is not to say my brother and I didn’t get into our own stuff there). I would never sneak down to the creek when I wasn’t allowed, and I didn’t get into things I wasn’t supposed to. I was trying to be anything, I just had no desire to have my grandparents view me unfavorably.

As I got older I would help my grandfather tend to his yard and sometimes his garden. After a morning of hard work I would join them for lunch and then we would sit on the front porch, Grandma and I in the swing, Granddad on a wicker rocking chair. I once preached a sermon called, "A Glass of Iced Tea and a Front Porch Swing." To me this picture was heaven. I had no where to run to, and nothing to run from, I was safe behind the Creek, suckling at the bosom of the hills around us.

It was a different kind of freedom from the river. The river involved chaos, crossing the Creek involved peace. Cosmologically the Creek is at the opposite end of the river. The river was a place to descend into, a place where chaos ensued and we allowed ourselves to be swept into chaos, the Creek though it was calm like the words of the song, "Ripple in still water, where there is not pebble tossed, no wind to blow." The ripple in these waters came from the hand of God himself, an angel that came and stirred the water once a day.

We looked out across the big Pine, across the river to the road where cars and trucks would go to and fro busy with life. We would watch life from the outside I liken it to Lazarus looking at the rich man. He could see, but he was not there.

Memories fill my mind of the old horse swing that hung under the pine, in the summers. I remember the snow on the hill in front of and behind, being driven out on a snow day from school, Granddad getting out his old runner sled, and then letting loose. From the hill we would leave with a "swoosh," toward the Creek, we would see how close we could get, yet we could never make it in. That was fine though, the winter was not a good time to feel the cool water of the Creek.

Across the Creek we were free, but it was a different freedom. The deer would be down in the winter by the dozens, the turkey in the summer by the hundreds. The garden, full of green beans and corn in the summer, in the winter the snow like a blanket allowing the land to sleep. Across the Creek was hope, the anticipation of the drive reminding me of what is to come. Across the Creek… maybe I could say heaven, but it seems more like Eden. A body reborn, casting off the fallen nature, resurrection in its best form.

I woke up dead this morning

I woke up dead this morning
Not another drop to drink
I woke up dead this morning
The wine and beer extinct
I woke up dead this morning
The angel waved goodbye
I woke up dead this morning
From hanging my head to cry
I woke up dead this morning
Where’d the time all go
I woke up dead this morning
So many things I’d never know
I woke up dead this morning
The remnants of a hug
I woke up dead this morning
I left the song unsung
I woke up dead this morning
My sickle left at home
I woke up dead this morning
I can’t believe he’s gone
I woke up dead this morning
I couldn’t take the fight
I woke up dead this morning
Because you didn’t wake up last night

By Justin
In memory of Waide Messer, a chaplain, a friend... We didn't just pass in the night.

Down to the River to pray

I have been reading "Memories Dreams and Reflections," basically Jung’s autobiography. Reading through it has been interesting even just into the second chapter. Reading the memories and dreams that were important to Jung are astounding. He talks about smelling for the first time, seeing the Alps in the distance for the first time, and seeing the stars for the first time. He discussed his awareness of the world around him and his understanding of it, even down to 3 years old.

If I were to think along these lines I would have to talk about growing up on the Ohio River. I don’t know if any of you ever grew up around water, there is something interesting growing up near water. Even though highly polluted the water from the Ohio is what I would drink, after a lot of filtering, and as a young child I was not allowed near the river itself, because of the undertow. I was told as a child that the direction of the water under the surface did not have to match the direction on the surface, that currents ran through the river all different directions, not just south. I imagined a river within a river flowing a different direction, I imagined fish passing each other going different directions, but just swimming, though I could imagine some animals talking, I have never much imagined fish that way, they were just fish.

I image that is partially because I don’t hunt but I do fish. I couldn’t kill a squirrel, a deer, or a black bear, I could imagine them with a voice but fish, they had no voice. That isn’t to say I kept any of them I caught them in the ol Ohio and nothing that came out of the Ohio was safe to eat. I think that is part of the majesty of the river, so powerful so dangerous with its undertows and poisons. I wasn’t allowed near the river as a child, so it isn’t strange that every day in the summers I was there.

You see, the river was cut into a valley, we had to descend to the river. I remember as a child my first time fishing, or at least as I remember was at the Dam. The Dam was itself a monster, maybe not a monster but a harness. Like the bridle of a horse the dam controlled the direction of the river. I have imagined canoeing from my house to my friend’s house in St. Mary’s. I think it would be a fun trip and I would have to survive the local dams along the way. It was an hour and a half drive how long of a canoe would it be? Maybe someday I will.

I think the most astounding thing about the dam was the echo. I recall my brother and I learning our voice hearing for the first time our own echo. The question came, "Dad, who’s yelling back." Dad explained the echo. I always looked forward to the dam because of the echo.
Descending toward the river was always a positive thing to me. Being close to the river and going through what I needed to just to be close. The river in one sense was my father and mother, in one way it was a river. To descend toward the dam I had to be sure footed (as my zodiac says I am) because the dike that had been built was walled by rocks some limestone some granite, some that were sharp some that were smooth, but all that were dangerous. It would be easy to slip and fall, rolling down the bank, but worst of all, spilling my tackle box. I have fallen many times but have never spilled my tackle box.

My old gang hung out by the river, every day we went down to pray. To which God’s I cannot be sure, but we did pray. With every drag from a cigarette every word we couldn’t say in front of our parents, we were baptized by the river. It was that baptism that symbolized freedom for me maybe even us. We named our places, they were like temples to us, temples with simple names: the hill, the rope, the rock bar, the beach, the dam, the rope swing, these were the places we would "hang" these were the places we would worship. For what is worship to a child truly but that chance to be, even if in farce, an adult?

That isn’t to say some had more dominion than others did, I was not the head of this priesthood, but a simple worshiper at the temple. Justice was like the river, swift and harsh. Not entirely physically but emotionally. It was at the river we learned to reduce one another to tears with words, it was at the river that we sacrificed our own scapegoats. We all played each roll; we each took a place as high priest, worshipper, or scapegoat. We had our own code, it was never written, but it was thorough and clear.

At our homes we lived under our parents, at the river we were free. My feeling climbing out was always different it was sadder, it was lower. Yet I was a surefooted Capricorn, and I could always survive away from my temple, away from the holy mother, the great river.

"Playing the Whore"

Playing the whore in Ezekiel

I have never read through Ezekiel, so I thought I would. I have come through to chapter 24 and it has been interesting. Over and over again Israel and Judah are accused of "playing the whore." I had to think about this phrase. The NRSV says whore the NIV says prostitute, but I am assuming whatever term they are using is the derogatory one. What then does it mean to "play the whore?"

At first I thought this would be a letter about sexual behavior between… well everybody, but that is only a part, and oddly enough doesn’t seem like the biggest part.
First off God is punishing partially because of his own reputation, his daughters should have been reared in his law and should know it, this doesn’t seem to be the case.

13But the house of Israel rebelled against me in the wilderness. They did not walk in my statutes but rejected my rules, by which, if a person does them, he shall live; and my Sabbaths they greatly profaned.
"Then I said I would pour out my wrath upon them in the wilderness, to make a full end of them. 14But I acted for the sake of my name, that it should not be profaned in the sight of the nations, in whose sight I had brought them out. –Ezekiel 20: 13-14

This is a statement relates to his people in the wilderness God wants them to remember their stories, remember their history.

I like chapter 22 it seems like at the core of treating God right is treating each other well. Being honorable to God is being honorable to his creation. (this is not to discount the idolatry) There is a nice little sentence here and many throughout the beginning of the book about how we are supposed to treat aliens in the land. Extorting them is a major issue. What is the extortion talked about here, it is a sin called usury, and Ezekiel will talk about it later. Dealing with aliens in the land is a very important theme throughout the prophets, see Amos as well. The Israelites were originally aliens in a strange land, not only was Abraham asked to go somewhere new, but Israel existed as a people group in Egypt as aliens. Ezekiel places this as one of their great sins, mistreating immigrants. How do we treat our immigrants? I like that this passage doesn’t make the distinction between legal and illegal. What do we say about them?

6"Behold, the princes of Israel in you, every one according to his power, have been bent on shedding blood. 7Father and mother are treated with contempt in you; the sojourner suffers extortion in your midst; the fatherless and the widow are wronged in you. 8You have despised my holy things and profaned my Sabbaths. 9There are men in you who slander to shed blood, and people in you who eat on the mountains; they commit lewdness in your midst. 10In you men uncover their fathers' nakedness; in you they violate women who are unclean in their menstrual impurity. 11One commits abomination with his neighbor's wife; another lewdly defiles his daughter-in-law; another in you violates his sister, his father's daughter. 12In you they take bribes to shed blood; you take interest and profit and make gain of your neighbors by extortion; but me you have forgotten, declares the Lord GOD. –Ezekiel 22:6-12

Mistreatment of our elders. Mother and father treated with contempt. I wonder the extent of this. They were commanded in the decalogue to honor Mom and Dad. We live in a world where the elderly are shifted to nursing homes and ignored, not by everybody but it is something that cannot be ignored. Talk to your local DHS get the low down on the local nursing homes, go to nursing homes and find out when people are visited. This commandment is not just for children but it is for anyone with parents. We learn to treat our parents as we saw them treat theirs.
Shedding blood. People are being paid to do it, people are being dishonest so they can do it. I live in a city that has the second highest rate of violent crime in a country that wants to increase its military so it can send more troops to die. God seems a little unclear about the shedding of blood in some places, you know the commanding of the Israelites to slaughter entire villages in Joshua and the Judges. God seemed pretty clear though at mandating when fighting was necessary. But maybe I shouldn’t put this passage to war I should just put it on one on one treatment of each other.

Ritual prostitution, sex as worship, finally we have gotten to some sex. The sex Ezekiel brings up is used for direct worship of other God’s. However, this isn’t all of what it means to "play the whore" it seems like the other piece on sexuality seems to be inappropriate relationships within the family system, and more specifically the step family system Ezekiel never talks about sex before marriage, divorce and remarriage, or even visiting prostitutes. I know these things get covered later in the New Testament but it is funny to me, playing the whore doesn’t have to do with as much sexual sin as it could.

The next piece is my favorite when it comes to high interest rates and whom we apply them to. This time it isn’t just to the immigrant society but to their own people. I wonder if they got 3 or 4 high interest credit card offers in the mail, of course they start low but then get much higher shortly after. Ezekiel seems to be very clear on this, using interesting to make prophet is wrong. I think I might send that to my creditors.

So what is "Playing the Whore?"

• Mistreating the immigrant population
• Mistreating parents
• Murder, unlawful shedding of blood (in some places the clergy are critiqued for this)
• Inappropriate sex, meaning, relatives, neighbors, and ritual prostitutes.
• Usury, the art of making profit from others misfortune.
  

What I find interesting about this list is that these are things that most cultures would find unethical. It goes back to chapter 20, God is paying attention to his reputation because his children are even committing sins that the other cultures take issue with, not to say they don’t do. The thing is Ezekiel expects priests to be priests they are held to (and rightly so) a higher level. But everyone else is expected to be people, it isn’t like they aren’t allowed to mess up, they can mess up, that is why they have the law, but these sins are the ones God expects everyone who is human to understand. You don’t mistreat people because they are immigrants, you don’t mistreat the elders, you don’t murder, you don’t sleep with whomever you want, and you don’t make money off of other people’s misery. It seems then that God is saying, "You, of all people should know better."

It is interesting to my personal self and my country to this list. We don’t have shrine prostitution anymore, but there are many other ways to be idolatrous. How do we as a country treat our immigrants, parents, each other in relation to life, sexually, and financially? Are we good to one another, fair and upright in all our dealings, honest? I just don’t know. I don’t think that we should read Ezekiel’s message and translate the doom to our nation, but I think we should read his message and get at the heart of God, what does he really want? Hell I don’t always know, but I know there are some things that aren’t negotiable. This list is a good start. And what is funny is that it isn’t like it is a strict list. These things seem common sense to me, we treat people like humans. Do we even do that?

Recipe for a good birthday

It's simple

One of those things

You ever have that friend who lets you know in advance that his or her birthday is comming up. Like a month in advance they start just radomly placing it in conversation and then as it gets closer and closer they are shameless about it and just start telling you they accept gift cards and personal checks.

Well I am that friend

I was born in Wheeling West Virginia at 2:10 AM (eastern standard) on January the 18th in 1979, and I accept gift cards and personal checks.

God Bless

Justin

You wanted it, now you got it... pic's of me dancing. Enjoy.

Its about time

I have come to a very important decsion in my life and I think the blogging community needs to know about. It is theological, philisophical, and an all around good decsion. I have chosen a theme song.

I know, you have been waiting for years for me to make a final decision. I thought long and hard about this for years. I have gone over many different songs many different bands, but it took forever for that one to arise and beat out all the other songs. You ready for it?

You sure?

This gonna blow your mind. To me this song is not just a good description of me but also a ministry statement.

Well no sense in making you wait longer.

Justin Timberlake: Sexy Back

Wine, Women, and wisdom?

I had a weekend, they come at the end of every week. It was neither good nor bad it was somewhere in the middle. Actually, I made it bad. All the baddness came from my choices and my fears. And I left me rather sour for Monday morning. Chaplain, what do you do when you don't feel like it. When there is frustration with God, how do I bring his presence.

The position of minister is bigger than me. It is beyond what I can understand or know or even be. It is an ordained job where the divine presents itself in flesh to those in pain.

There was a three year old getting brain surgery this morning, so at least for that time, my weekend didn't matter. It was as if God was standing before me saying, "When your done with self pitty I have something for you to do." I felt I did fine, but I wonder what I could have done if I lessened my self...

Holidays?

I remember an episode of MASH where the whole camp is looking forward to a Christmas celebration. The kids from the local orphanage are on their way and everyone is happy. Then tragety hits. One of their patients begins to drop blood pressure. All through the 25th they fight to keep him alive even though they know he won't make it in the long run, they know he is going to die. Over and over again they shock him, put him through CPR, why when they know it is pointless? Because he is a father and they don't want the kids to lose Christmas.

They finally lose him at 11:45 PM. The death certificate will still read TOD 11:45 12/25. What do they do? they push the minute hand on the clock 15 minutes ahead and fill out the death certificate.

I know this is fiction but it was what went through my mind this morning as I sat at a an emergency code. The man had been coding since 5:30 it was now 7:45. Thy stabalize him he is good for some time then he codes again, over and over. Why? Why not just let him die? The family is on the way. Six children comming from more than an hour away.

It is also the day after thanksgiving. What does this do to the holiday, what does this bode well for in giving thanks. At least it wasn't yesterday, no that would be horrible, because yesterday the wife was sitting in the Critical Care Wating Room, she slept there all night in her clothes. Hospitals don't close on Thanksgiving. I am on call the day after thanksgiving, why? because I want to go home for Christmas. Of course that is what I said about Labor Day.

What happens to family dynamics with death around the holidays? I was thinking about that as I stood in the room with the family this morning, and I thought of that episode of MASH, and I thought about the family racing to get here and the doctors and nurses working like mad to keep him alive. All I could do was stand there, a harbinger of death, and once it happened a reminder.

Happy Thanksgiving

Story:

I know I haven't posted forever and today I posted like three times, get over it there is a story I want to tell.

As a sophomore in college I hated children. Ok maybe hate is a strong word, I just didn't understand them, I had never really worked on being a child myself, I spent my childhood trying to be an adult. I saw two options if I was going to be a minister, Preacher or Youth Minister. I chose Preacher because I hated teenagers, ok yes I know it is a strong word I am fallen get over it, even more than children. I also didn't want to go home for a week from Arkansas to West Virginia, it didn't seem to make sense, so I signed up very late to this campeign to Fortworth Texas.

I didn't know what this Campaign was about I just knew that my buddy Charlie was going so I signed up for that Christain Jubilee. I found out after I paid in full, we were teaching inner city children about God all week. I was not happy about this but hid my distain to the team members, but not to my friends. I complained all over the place. I complained also to God, "Lord you got to do something with this because I can't." Sometimes I wish God had not listened.

Well there was this girl named Hillary. I liked her I don't think she really ever returned that, but it was ok I was in her wedding a few years later, wonderful event still one of my best memories of college. She had taken me to WalMart to get the things I needed the day before, see I didn't have a car. At Walmart we came accross the balls, they were probably a foot in diameter and she seemed taken with them so I put it in my cart and bought the ball. I informed her that we needed to try the ball out so we went to a local park and kicked it around for a while. As the sun set we sat below a jungle jim, looked sort of like thunderdome, Hillary, the Ball and me. As the sun is setting I am considering making a move, and the playground floods with children. I don't know where the hell they came from but they were all over the place. It had been empty and quiet all that time before.

Yet, the children avoided us like the plague, Hillary had made a comment about that. Well, okay there was one little girl who sheepishly came over and said through a staggard tone, "Can I play with your ball." Sure I said. thirty seconds later thunderdome is covered with children and we are in the center. At the end of the night I found that girl and asked her if she wanted the ball, she did. God was listening. At that point I didn't worry about the comming week.

Since that time I have taught children in different countries, and all over this one. I spent two years as an innercity Children's minister and now I am a Pediatric Chaplain. God was truly listening, sometimes I wish he would forget and make me a maitenence man. I should have added something to that prayer, "God do something with THIS COMMING WEEK," but then would he have blessed me this far? I don't know if I will work with children the rest of my life, but I know right now I am, and it is because God put me here.

Some morning at my hospital I look at the diagnosis of the patient I am walking in to talk to and I don't know what to say. Broken bones, broken families, broken promises, broken people. What can I say, most of the time I don't know. But if I am really on those mornings before I walk in I say, "God I got nothin, you need to do something." I remember thunderdome and I knock on the door.

check out this guy

What do you think? This is from the halloween party I went to, I was an Episcopal priest

Just an update

So what is going on with me lately.

Had to buy a car, I slapped the DNR tag to mine and bought something reliable I found a 2002 Nissan Sentra GXE. Been happy with it so far.

Happy about the election for the most part. I was a little sad about how Tennessee turned out on certain issues. I like the guy elected for the House from Shelby County and I like Bredisen but I was sad no. 1 passed and I was sad Ford Jr. Lost. He lost support in Memphis because he wouldn't support Cohen. It happens, I hope he runs again.

Still working at LeBonheur Children's Medical Center in Memphis Tennessee, I was tired this morning but I generally like my job.

I will probably get to go home for Christmas, the country roads will take me there, looking forward to seeing my family especially my niece Anna. I hear she has been causing oh such a fuss.

Note on dancing:
I will be in West Virginia for a week during Christmas so if anyone knows of any swing dancing that goes on around wheeling or up into pittsburg let me know.

Find lyrics

One of my favorite hymn's is an old Ukrainian tune called "while on the sea." I used to have a hymnal with this song in it, I have since lent the hymnal to a church member who never came back. I can never find mention of this hymn by anything other than the title on google. I can never find the words. Can someone give me the words?

God Bless

It don't mean a thing

Being a part of the neo swing (dancing) movement it is almost pre-requisite to see the movie "Swing Kids." Other than wondabar dancing there is a message to the movie, it is stated midway through when an SS man says, "sometimes it is better to know what we are getting into before we get into it." In the movie the SS man is talking about the bookseller that Peter(the protagonist) works for, but in the overall scheme of the move isn’t that what we ask of anyone in Germany of the time? Couldn’t you see the atrocity didn’t you think it odd that an entire people group was made scapegoat (Jews). So how did it happen?

In this movie the Hitler Youth (HJ) were taught that Jews were evil, they were strangling the world economically and morally corrupt. There was a warning on a building to beware of nigger/kike music. I don’t suppose I have to define those words. Thomas, Peter’s best friend at first opposed the Nazi’s but then found that he was wonderfully accepted by the Nazi party, what could be so wrong with a place that made him feel so good. At home he was a troublemaker, with his other friends he was stupid (or so he thought), it was only in the Hitler Jungen that he could feel accepted. Why do we think it odd that a teenager runs to a group of people that encourage him and accept him? How did the Nazi’s win him? They said, "Good job," when he did well, and let him know that even he had something to offer to the Nazi party. There was a place he could fit in… not until the end when his hands were wrapped around his best friends neck did he realize what he was "getting into."

The Nazi’s did something genius, they tied politics and morality together. To be a good Nazi you didn’t drink or smoke, you didn’t take foreign foods into the system you were pure. Being a part of that party meant being pure, being German only, almost like being holy. There was rebellion against them; in the move it is the "Swing Kids" that rebel. Their lifestyle is understood as immoral and unhealthy. All they did was waist their time on music and dancing that clouded their judgment.

Morality was a tool used by the Nazi’s to get their way, my question, do we use morality to get our way politically?

In the last four years the United States has taken over two countries, one most people wouldn’t argue against, the other was taken over for weapons we never found. We are now stuck in a part of the world that is volatile. Why? Well, what is going on back home? What are the issues people vote on? I know people who will vote for a candidate purely for his stance on abortion. Why, because maybe abortion is murder (understand this is not necessarily my opinion) however, when that president allows physiological torcher against POW’s and orders the death of thousands of Muslims because they have a different set of politics no one bats an eyelash. I wonder why? I wonder if our current regime wins because it aligns itself with the moral right. Abortion, gay marriage… these are the things we care about, but what about our international ethics? I wonder.

I might be far fetched here… but a world leader has to start slow… I wonder if Hitler had worked slower, would he have gotten further? Hitler married politics and morality. Real German’s don’t drink, real German’s don’t dance, real German’s don’t like Jews. What do real Americans do? If you live in the Bible belt there is a good chance we don’t drink or dance, and who are we taught to hate? Who doesn’t fit into our social scheme, who is our scapegoat? Let me ask it a different way, what social issue keeps us from voting on a President in relation to the war? In Tennessee I think it is the 1st issue on the ballot, the marriage amendment. We will vote for any individual, even a megalomaniac (not to say Bush is) as long as they don’t let gay people marry. Because no matter how many Muslims we kill, at least Gay people can’t be married.

Shock and awe, that is what he called our tactics in Iraq. It means we come in fast and win, sort of like lightning. We scare them into letting us win, lightning is scary, why not just call it a lightning war instead, well… that name was already taken… Blitzkreig
A homeless schizophrenic came up to me in Wendi’s today and asked me if I felt safe… when people ask me that regardless of whether they are on their meds or not I am not sure what to say.

That tottling town

Went to Chicago over the weekend. Went to the "Windy City Lindy Exchange," had a great time. What is a Lindy Exchange you ask? Well, a Lindy Exchange is when a buch of swing dancer's often Lindy based or similar dances, get together and dance all weekend. I arrived in Chicago Saturday morning at 3 AM and danced until 5 AM Next dance started satruday night at 9:00 went till 12:00 the next started a 1:00 AM and we began driving home at 5 in the morning when it was over.

I had a blast, what did I learn you ask. I am not very good at dancing, but since I love it, I can get better.

The Dempsey's

A buddy a mine told me some time ago that I needed to hear this band called "The Dempsey's" he said I would "dig" them. So last night (Wednesday) I went to Blues City Cafe on Beale in Memphis to hear "The Dempsey's." Their show was amazing. It is this Rock-a-billie band. They started with "Cry Cry Cry," by Johnney Cash, they hit an Elvis song or two, and a lot of their own stuff. At one point the bassist seemed to almost make love to his bass at some points, sometimes it would look like he was riding the bass. Often he would stand on the bass and a couple times he stood on the base playing the guitar while the guitar player played the bass he was standing on. WOW. They played so much, so long, and so fast it was exhausting for me. If you ever get the chance check out "The Dempsey's" on a scale of 1-10 on amount of ass kicked I would say 10. All the ass in that place at some point got kicked. On the level of how much Hell was played on the base from demonic-sanctified. I would say they were sanctified because they played all the Hell out of that place. Anyway, check em out. I would post a pic but since I don't have internet "that is how the hipsters say it these days" it is a pain in the neck to post pics.

Peace and Hairgrease

The Dempsey's

A buddy a mine told me some time ago that I needed to hear this band called "The Dempsey's" he said I would "dig" them. So last night (Wednesday) I went to Blues City Cafe on Beale in Memphis to hear "The Dempsey's." Their show was amazing. It is this Rock-a-billie band. They started with "Cry Cry Cry," by Johnney Cash, they hit an Elvis song or two, and a lot of their own stuff. At one point the bassist seemed to almost make love to his bass at some points, sometimes it would look like he was riding the bass. Often he would stand on the bass and a couple times he stood on the base playing the guitar while the guitar player played the bass he was standing on. WOW. They played so much, so long, and so fast it was exhausting for me. If you ever get the chance check out "The Dempsey's" on a scale of 1-10 on amount of ass kicked I would say 10. All the ass in that place at some point got kicked. On the level of how much Hell was played on the base from demonic-sanctified. I would say they were sanctified because they played all the Hell out of that place. Anyway, check em out. I would post a pic but since I don't have internet "that is how the hipsters say it these days" it is a pain in the neck to post pics.

Peace and Hairgrease

rebelion and what not

I went to a conservative Christian college. By conservative I mean that we had a curfew and weren't allowed to dance. I believe things like that shape people in different ways, I don't begrudge their rule system and for the most part I adhered to it, sure I went out drinking a couple nights and took part in the usual, "sneaking out after curfew." but I think I did okay. This post is not to ask whether or not that is appropriate but I wonder, do I rebel against that mindset now, shortly after I graduated from their seminary and followed similar rules, sure there was no curfew and chapel wasn't required but the regulations on drinking were the same.

I look at my life and wonder if my actions are like that of a college kid who is just "getting it out of the system." This is what I mean, a friend of mine asked me the other day in reference to my strong and often offensive language, " your proud of it aren't you?" my responce was simply, "oh yeah, I would be lying if I said I wasn't, I blaim it on the fall," (that is an easy way to get out of things).

But if I make my list:
I "cuss" (what's the point of a word we can't say)
I smoke (a pipe because CS Lewis did so I figure what is good for him)
I drink, (but only good beer because it is about the taste: minimum New Castle)
I dance (everyone needs to exercise and this is the only kind I like
I am a demacrat (I wonder if this is a religious thing or because my father is a republican)


All these offenses could get one thrown out of school in my undergraduate. Cussing is cussing, smoking is a sin, drinking is a sin, dancing is a sin, and being a demacrat is a sin, and all of these things lead to sex which is the biggest of all sins. I question their validity in polarities like good and bad but that doesn't matter right now. But I wonder, do I do them because they are "me" or because I am rebelious and I haven't been allowed for the last eight years (college and seminary).

Do you have anything that might fall into the same catagory? I have political views that I believe fall into these catagories as well, I am curious to hear what you think, so please respond:

Time to relax

When I get home from work I load my pipe with my favorite tobacco and I put my minidisc player on. I have a compilation that fits that mood. I do that with music, I like to complile playlists in relation to my mood. This list is called "women sing," it consists of Janis Joplin, Kathrine Whalen, Nora Jones, and none other than Billy Holiday. I sit on my fifteenth floor balcony and remember I am glad to be alive.

How do you relax, and what do you listen to?

Dancing and Dying

Last night I was dancing. I like dancing, I have blogged about this before, I swing dance. For all of you who can't imagine me dancing, remember spring sing? I think I just look better. I got home around 11:30 last night, of course it was saturday so that is cool. I opted not to go out with the crew after our dance because I had to work today, Sunday. I had a hard time really getting into the freedom and the mood of it though because I knew I would be returning to my job today.
When I am on call I work with five hospitals. I have visited two other than the one I stay at default tonight. I hope I am done tonight. I have had nice nights before where I got to sleep all night, the last two weeks have been different I got no more than two hours. It happens, I can live with that I just wish it would happen to someone else for a while.

At one hospital I was talking with a woman who might lose her son, and was sad their last discussion was an arguement. Then I got the question in another hospital, "when you wear blue does that mean someone died?" I told her no, but when we are working on call we wear blue labcoats so the staff can recognise us quickly as the chaplain. then she said, "anytime I see you in blue it means someone has died." Of course the kid I went to see wasn't out of the water yet.

When I came back to the default hospital I answered a death call where there was a lot of family. A LOT of family and they were all sad. You know something I appriciate about African American families, they support each other in mass numbers and they get their feelings out, even the men. Oh there is a manly cry and they have mastered it. I know I am stereotyping, but you will get over it. I think it is something white people can learn about family, it doesn't matter if they like each other they always come when they are needed, and when someone dies they are needed. At a death today there was wailing, there was praying and at one point I heard someone say "Jesus," and if I didn't know the situation I think he would have been cursing, but in this situation I think he was calling on the name of our savior because that is all there was to say.

This is what I say to anyone reading this post...Dance... dance in your own way, swing, latin, ballroom, alone in your room, with your wife, girlfriend, boyfriend, husband, father, mother, friend, relative. Dance when it is fun and dance when it is hard because life is a dance. If you can walk you can dance, but we don't always have a lot of time so just dance. It doesn't matter if you are good it doesn't matter if you suck. Just dance. Because when death knocks... I am tempted to stop dancing. But that is when I need to dance the hardest, because it is in the dance I know that I am alive. Walking away from a song that was faster than I thought, when I am tireder than I thought and I and my partner both pant trying to catch breath, then I know I am alive. And when I can no longer dance(which is when I am dead, read Tuesday's with Morrie)... I want someone to place silver dollars on my eyes so I can pay the boatman at the river Styx, then hopefully, when I cross that river, I can dance some more.

Labor on Labor day

It is Labor day I am working I labor, I am fine with working on Labor day it means I will raise true hell if I have to work on thanksgiving or Christmas. Some parts of the day have been very boring other parts have been very exciting and many many sad. The sad doesn't hit me like it used to, I think it is because I have been on call the last three or four mondays in a row. It is about 3:30 in the morning and I am beginning to get tired. "Why not go to bed?" you may ask, well everytime I just start getting comfortable my pager goes off and I have to rerobe and head somewhere in the hospital. Three people coded at the same time tonight. Well, all within 15 minutes. I have been getting to know the crisis team well. The resident who has been pronoucing is becomming a buddy. When I started this job doctors made me nervous, one one level they still do but by much less. Now I see them so much, the same ones over and over again. I can't help but think that my blue coat must symbolize death to some of them. I think patients families tend to take bad news better when a chaplain is around. I think I could be a fairly bad chaplain and still provide comfort just because I am there.

The thing though,

this job feeds my arrogance like crazy, I have never been to keen on being a minister, or at least not for years but I like this job, "chaplain." But I always picture myself standing up for the patient or the family or lowing the anxiety of a crisis because of my selfless work. I bring the peace of God and the stability of ten men, I work for God, I pray to God, I intercede for the people, I am god to them I am God. Most of the time I think I am just full of shit (now that I am not going to be a preacher anymore I don't have to hide that I say that word a lot). I am a pretty arrogant asshole when it comes to it. Nothing reminds me of that more than when I think of myself having this huge conversation with a family who is affraid to pronouce their father DNR (do not recessitate) and they finally stop putting their father through the constant pain of CPR and the harshness of recessitation. The doctors say, "Wow that chaplain really gets it," The female nurses swoon. Then at the time of the passing, that is where I am on my "A" game I pray and lead everyone in a rendition of "Pass me not O Gentle Savior" there is weaping and gnashing of teeth but at the middle providing the comfort of God is me. Like I said I am full of shit most of the time.

I will tell you when I am good though. When there is so much going on I don't think of myself. When I see the weary looks of the nurses busting their butts to keep someone alive, when I stop thinking of how good I am and think of how good the team functions. Not just me but the doctors, the nurses, the enviromental staff. But see the picture in my head is of me.

I am glad God forgives me of my damned vanity, I hope someday he cuts it from me so I can watch it die.
Well thats what I get for Blogging at 3:30 in the morning.

Blue like Jazz

You know when people talk about books on their blog they tend to put the picture up, well I am not putting the picture up and you can get over it :)

I just finished the book "Blue Like Jazz," by Donald Miller. I didn't like this book when I began to read it but I kept reading it because it made sense to me. As I went through the book it continued to make sense and I started to like it. By the end of the book he is talking about falling in love with Jesus and I am sitting in my office in the hospital almost crying.

This is what I think about the book.

But in the end... if you don't like narrative preaching... you won't like this book, but if life ever gets difficult and it and God don't make sense... You just might.

But morely what I really like about it.

There was something real about it. I know that he is a writer and they can make things sound real, but the way he describes people makes sense to me. In this book he never truly arrives at the end of the book he closes a thesis and he is further along in the jouney but he has not arrived. I love Brother Lawrence and Thomas a Kempis but the problem with them is that they seem to have arrived, well maybe Lawrence more than a Kempis. I read about saints and monks and they are holy and in their prayers transcend this mortal plain and in a sense transubstantiate into their glorified self. I don't get that from Miller. This guy actually has problems in his life. Not only did he come from difficult time but he is still in a difficult time. He opens the world to his struggle with the world but even more with the idea of religion. He tells a story very similar to me.

I wish I would run into Don Miller in Memphis Tennesse one day while I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop/bar Queztel. If I saw him there I think I would call him Don, buy him a beer and ask if he wanted to talk about life while we smoked our pipes together. After reading his book I feel like I know him. He brought his difficulties out and his weakness to the forefront. I have been reading a lot from Paul lately and he talks a lot about that.

The place in the Bible that really hits me right now is that part about Jacob in Genesis, his whole story but more specifically his wrestling with God. See I can identify with him more than characters like David or Job because Jacob was a hustler. He tricked his brother out of his birthright and helped his mother trick Essau out of a blessing. As we follow the story Laban husles Jacob. Tricks him into taking the ugly daughter first (think I'm being harsh huh.. well it is just sort of who I am) then he tricks him into 7 more years of work. The husler is hussled. After that Laban tries to trick him out of sheep. Later Jacob also finds out the woman he wanted the most is petty. She steals household God's and gets a little cocky with her ugly sister (I know you think I am harsh but these are the same words I used to use for myself so just go with me for a second).

Jacob has now wrestled with men... then some dude comes out of nowhere and starts trying to make him say uncle. We find out this guy is actually God and he can't beat Jacob until he cheats. Jacob still doesn't let up through the pain of his leg, the separation from his family of origin, domestic issues in his current family and the fear that the older brother is going to kick his ass. In the face of all this Jacob has the odassity to say "bless me."

I have been a hustler, I have been hustled, and I have lived in fear that my older brother is going to kick my ass. I have also wrestled with God and sometimes it feels like God is cheating. But in the end, he blesses me...

I think that is what I would talk to Don about. But my problem is if I did see him one of two things would probably happen. I would say nothing and lose my opportunity like I have in so many other situations, especially when it involves women, or... I would say something like, "hey man, I really appriciated your book," and while trying to sound cool exchanged a few words and walk off never saying, "can we chat? I'll buy you a beer."

So, Don Miller, if you ever read this post and you are in Memphis TN I would like to buy you a beer, invitation's open.

Justin McCreary
9/1/06

...and he descended into Hell

Just wanted to blog to say hi. I am on call at Methodist hospital tonight it is 12:38 in the morning and I am just trying to come down off a rather interesting night hoping to be able to sleep in about thrity minutes for the rest of the night. I think God was watching over me tonight. I have had to deal with hard situations and every time I have been told how helpful I was.
The apostles creed says:
I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:
Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell.
The third day He arose again from the dead.
He ascended into heaven
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,
whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and life everlasting.
Amen

A lot of people have issue with the ...and he decended into Hell phrase, I don't because I completely change its meaning to fit what I do and throw the tradition of it out the window. It is what a chaplain does. I was in the ER tonight and there were plenty of people in Hell. They were in hell some of their own making and some as consequence of others but what I would describe what they were going through is hell.
Any person who chooses to descend into hell with them must be crazy. But that is their job. It is the job of therepists, ministers, chaplains, social workers, doctors, nurses, law enforcement, firemen. Who chooses to run into a burning building? Jesus. It is nice though after I run into a busy ER to know that I have been helpful, because that brings about ressurection.
Maybe these are just the ramblings of a tired man... But I wonder, have you ever descended into hell? I would bet that at some time in life you have. If you are willing to talk about it I would like to read about it.

Memories

Well, my first unit of CPE is over, so I am posting a pic of all the new residents, some of you might recognize Kevin and I, but I am sure you wonder about the guy with the collar. That is Dennis, he is a candidate to be a Roman Catholic Priest. That day was the first day he could wear a collar, I was proud to serve with him in the hospital, many of us are sad that he was only doing one unit of CPE, Dennis was a good chaplain and will probably turn out to be a good priest, he was also a good friend. Godspeed Dennis.

This is a picture of me, it was Hawaiian shirt day, even though I was the only one who wore a Hawaiian shirt, even though I got that shirt in Fiji. Mainly I am just posting it to change my identity pic from "that 70's Justin"

We didn't start the fire

Thalidomide came out in the late 1950's, it was created by a West German comany to aid as a seditive and decrease the symptoms of morning sickness. Later they found out that it is dangerous for women who are babies and there were over 15,000 children affected by thalidomide only 8000 lived beyond one year. For its original use, the drug was banned but later was found to help in cases of Leprosy and Multiple Melinoma (skin cancer).

Thalidamide is still used today, and I am cool with that because when it is used appropriately it is very helpful. It is currently produced by the company Celgene. Now I know what you are wondering, what is the point of this post, since I am not going to blast the use of Thalidomide?

It costs 7 cents to make one Thalidomide pill, ten years ago it sold for a few dollars a pill but now since it is making a comeback the price is $69.00 a pill. I know what your asking, has it gotten harder to make? Nope, what the company does is estimate a price it wants to make that year. The final per pill price comes from dividing what they expect to sell by what they estimate they want to make.

If I am clear I wonder if you are going to respond the same way I am, "Holy sh*t, where do they get off." However if you go to brazil to get the drug you pay much less, why? part of it is that our government is not allowed to negotiate with drug companies. Now, this is the simple of the arguement it is very think and I just heard a doctor talking about it, but I wonder, if they are doing this thing with one drug how many more.

When medical treatment of HIV came out it was also incredibly expensive but has since been lowered, and you may ask how did this happen? Well, HIV patients chained themselves to Wallstreat. The problem is with people who have leprosy and Multiple Melinoma is that they can't chain themselves anywhere.

What I see everyday is that dying is expensive. The cost to keep someone alive with no brain function for four months is astronomical. The cost to cremate a body can excede 1000 dollars, I know a place in town that will do if for 800. A casket, a vault, well once you get there we are also talking rediculous amounts of money.

We are one of the richest countries in the world yet we cannot afford to provide health care? We can't negotiatie to keep drug prices reasonable? In the end do you know who pays for all of it? We do, American tax payers. I try not to rant about politics very often but I often look at our healthcare system and just get angry. The people with the money get fixed first and best, its the American way. It is fun to blaim doctors, hospitals, and HMO's, but do we ever talk about the drug companies, who say, we will charge you what we want and you will pay it or you will die. Who knows maybe I am just mininformed.

Just a little rant to Jesus...

I have a lot going on, but not a lot to say. I am pushing through one of those difficult times, a lot of questioning and soul searching.
I was sitting on the balcony outside my apartment the other day, I live a block away from the hospital in which I work, and I heard an ambulance rushing, lights on, to the hospital. I used to get frustrated when I passed them on the streets or if I had to wait for them in traffic. I would get angry if I missed a light because of an ambulance or a fire truck. But that day sitting on the balcony I wondered... I wondered, "God what are you going to do about this one." When I see an ambulance head toward the local children's hospital connected to the Methodist hospitals in Memphis, I think back to the first call I answered to it. Now when I see an ambulance I think of people, I think of mothers and fathers, I think of doctors and nurses, I think of social workers and case workers, I think of Emergency Medical Teams, I think of Chaplains. I think of all the lives that will be affected by what is happening. I think of all the lives effected when someone tries to beat a train and misses, when a young boy misjudges the space he has while riding his four wheeler. Sometimes I think of adult deaths where no one shows up to pay respects. I think of standing inside the room of a forgotten elderly person who was just happy to have someone to vent to one week earlier and now lies dead. I think of the mother that just heard there are five tumors instead of one but wants to be strong for her family, or the father who has just lost his oldest child. Once a patient told me they saw my face transfigured in a dream, that would be nice. See I think I am starting to understand original sin. Maybe it isn't like a gene passed down from person to person but it is a problem passed down because we are fallen. Because of that one sin maybe man is totally depraved. Sometimes the only way that I can get through a day is to think... Calvin wasn't completely wrong. We live in a fallen world, and that world will continue to get worse and worse, what is the powers and principalities that we wage war against. I see our falleness, our original sin every day... that is why I am such a fan of grace... I don't believe the world is going to get any better, but... I think people can. I don't know, maybe this doesn't make any sense, just the rant of a tired man looking for answers. When John wrote his Apocolypse he seemed to think the only thing that could change his world was God, forgive me if I say, this world is apocolyptic, the only thing that could possibly change it is the presense of God. But people that is a different story, maybe we can relate to people... maybe every day we can touch lives, something beyond just knocking on doors of people we don't know or just telling people they need to change, but interacting with their life and letting them see that we care. That is, if we really do care? So God, what are you going to do now?

Just a thought on folk

There are many kinds of people and we can be described in many ways with many many interconnected descriptions, there are two specific descriptions I am currently thinking of.

Contemplative and Pragmatic.
These two are not opposites, nor are thy thorough descriptions but this is the thought I had.
There are monks who spend years learning to pray. Prayer is important and personally something I struggle with, the idea of stilling the mind and allowing the Spirit to come upon me. I do however appriciate contemplative prayer. I also appriciate a church service that helps me settle my mind to be able to pray contemplativly. A prayer that is not necissarily focused on things or people but more on a relationship with God in heaven. I spent my last year in seminary working on this aspect of prayer, it wasn't intercessory nor was it problem based, it was reliationship based. Part of it was simply about time and about focus, was I willing to give God the tired part of my day. I would attened different services in town that provided a high church atmosphere. It is important for a Christian whether he is a leader or not to be able to settle the mind and set in relationship with God.

There is also the pragmatic. Equally important. The pragmatic is out in the neighborhood and visible. The pragmatic is always taking requests and always praying for people and things. The pragmatic service is exciting and "spirit filled." It is a place where people can stand up and raise their hands and not worry about eyes on them or how people respond. It is very lively and when we leave the service we might say things like "We had church today."

Both functions can be communial, a group of monks can sit somberly and pray together, and by way of testimony both can be used to contemplate the goodness of God. But I think there is a fullness is being able to interchange between the two.

Have you silently let your heart be still and embraced God like Elijah? Have you praised the Lord in full spirit like Saul?

Changing the world, one feeling at a time

I have been reading a theory by a guy named Murrey Bowen, his idea is called "Family Systems." The basic premise is that each family system has anxiety, and the way we manage that anxiety relates to the level of differentiation of each member of the family. As a whole it is not individualistic, however is a system made up by people who are individuals. One basic contention is that we cannot change the way our family interracts. but only the way we interact within the family system. We then best effect the system by paying attention to our own emotional reactivity, not ignoring our emotions but acknowledging them then choosing to respond from a principled stand as opposed to our own emotional reactivity. I react to people more often than interact with them. I can respond either abusivly or passive aggressivly because I am reacting to my own emotions. Someone might call me and tell me they are angry because of something I said, my first inclination is to defend what I said instead of listening to why they are angry. If I truly listen to what they say I might realize something I had done might have been insensative or impropper. I might also realize they may have misunderstood what I am saying either because they didn't want to hear or I was unclear, or both. Of course in that situation there were probably many instances where I didn't want to hear and misunderstood someone else. Often in that case I don't respond until later, I will let my anxiety settle and then choose how I am going to respond, if I am not emotionally reacive.

But in no way is this individualistic. People, especially children act out many different roles in a family, saint, mascott, problem child, good kid, etc... However to change the system parents can get more in touch with themselves ie. their realtionship with their own parents, either living or dead. Another way sympoms manifest in a sytem is physically, through sickness, lets say I grew up sick and when I quit being sick someone else became sick, then when they got over it someone else was sick. That turns into a way for the family to focus the anxiety of a system. When the anxiety is focussed on the sick one then it isn't bothering others.

Anyway this is a bad rendition of Bowen but I was thinking about this in a larger situation, lets say the country. The United States is one big system, and a very anxious one at that. How do we repair the anxiety of America? I wonder if Bowen would say work on myself? Do what I can to personally act out of a principle stand, and in doing that others around me might begin to do that, and over a few generations the system has righted itself. All I can do is work on me, I can't fix other people and often when I try to tell other people how to fix things they cuss me out, so why not just focus on me being the best me I can be, meaning, I act not react, I work hard myself, I treat other people with respect... Maybe...

Death wears blue

I deal with death a good deal. Today I was walking through a floor with two other chaplain and one chaplain said to me, "I wonder what people think happened that three chaplains are together on one floor." I had never been to a hospital with a chaplain before I started working at one as a chaplain, but people know us here, they know our color and they know our faces. We walk hand in hand with death and stand at the chasm between now and evermore for many people. You have never lived until you walk a hallway with a family that has been waiting to identify a loved one for an hour while the body is cleaned, or seen the look of hope in the eyes of old men when you know the truth but aren't allowed to tell them. Well maybe you have lived, and maybe its ok to never experience these things. These are the things I hate about my job. I had to answer a call at Methodist North one night and when I got out of my car in my blue coat a man on the side of the road asked, "Who died." To those who do not know and are still filled with hope we can be banshees, to those who know and don't have the strength angels... And if we aren't careful... we become calloused and cold. We deal with death so much we were asked to write letters to death and then we gathered together in one place and read them to one another. My letter is personal but nothing I am ashamed of so I post it for any who are interested, blanking out no names and making no apologies.

God Bless
Justin

Dear Death,
It is because of you I keep from wasting away. I could sit in my chair and rot, I could do nothing, never reaching out, and never living in my community. I think without you I would never love and without you I would never know love. I stood in the room with you one night waiting. Waiting for the moment of expiration. As his breath became thin, as his blood pressure dropped you stood their waiting, ever so patiently, thinking if not now, later.
Death, I know that you will have your way with us, I know that you will come for my family one by one and then one day you will come for me. But in that instant while you stood their and waited I watched a wife and mother hold her lovers hand and it made me see where I stand, and that I stand alone. You drive me death to desire to act yet I stand ever watching ever waiting, you hang over my shoulder warning me of some inevitable time when we shall walk hand in hand to the boatman at the River Styx.
When you come Death I hope to be able to sing my history, when I was seventeen, when I was 21 and so on, and I hope like the singer sung to have no regret but to know that I truly lived. More than you I fear regret, to stand before God and regret the chances I didn’t take and the love I never found.
But that doesn’t mean you don’t take. I remember when I was young you took my Uncle Jim then later you took my Uncle Bud. I cried for both men, I cried because there was no longer a place in my life to talk with them, never again would I ride through the hills of West Virginia in Jim’s Jeep, or talk theology with my Uncle Bud. I wish I knew your response when I cried, and your facial expressions during my sobs.
After a night of visiting your sites over and over again, I am weary. I am physically weary but more of the soul. I am tired and restless. My heart sleeps but my body lies awake with the faces of the dead, the slack jaw and the half open eyes. Sometimes it is like any moment their chest will spasm and their lungs cry out for Oxygen. I still have burned in my mind the girl who died by the train. Her face still and silent her body cocooned in a bag. The walk for identification was an eerie sound, the sound of heels hitting the floor in a silent building. The long walk lead by the man in blue…
I tried to approach a woman on my hall and she fled from me like we all flee from you, as if I were death myself. Sometimes it feels as if I carry your scythe and wear your mask. I am associated to you, yet I don’t take life. I am full of holes, holes of the men in my life who have gone before, holes of the ones I have seen. I don’t hate you, but I feel a little emptier every time I see your work. When I am gone you will still walk the Earth, long after even. Eternity is in the hearts of men, but death is eternal.
Sincerely
Justin

Hail to the beeper

I never thought I would be important enough to wear a beeper, it is funny two days ago I had three on. Tonight, I have two. I have one pager that is specific to me, and the other is a general pager that the on-call chaplain carries. So when people need a chaplain at any hour of the night, they can page one, we have a chaplain on duty 24 hours a day at Methodist Hospital in Memphis. The exiciting part about being on call is that I never know what is comming, they tell us, "Eat when your hungry , sleep when you can, because you might get called at any time."
Last time I was on-call there were three death notifications, and various other things that weren't incredibly fun to help with. We see a lot of death working in the hospital, go figure, right... To help deal with this, we have been directed to write a letter to Death. The chaplains will all get together on Friday and read each other the letters. Thing is, I don't know what to say.
Dear Death,
How are you, how's your mom, remember years ago when we used to hang out, you know before they called you Death and you were just Communicable Disease?
I am curious, how do you hold your head when you deal with crossing the river styx?