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...