Lent Begins

We are not converted only once in our lives but many times, and this endless series of large and small conversions, inner revolutions, leads to our transformation

-Thomas Merton

When we choose some exercise for Lent it is not so much the practice that transforms us. It is our willingness to change, to continue the journey. It's not about getting there ... it's about being on the way.

May you find joy in the journey

Beyond The Blue Box

For me the blue box is the universal symbol of re-cycling. I remember when I was doing some contract work in KY and discovered the corporate apartment I had rented did not have a blue box. I naively went to the apartment management to report the missing 'blue box'. I was greeted with a blank stare and then in a long drawn out southern accent "Where y'all from?" It was a great surprise to discover that there was no universal blue boxes nor free curbside pick up. If I wanted to recycle I could collect my wasted and drive 20 miles out of town to a re-cycle center or convince all my neighbours to pay for a contractor to come and pick up our recyclables.

Not everything can be re-cycled in our blue boxes. There are some resourceful individuals and companies out there that are willing to put our cast-offs to good use.

Here are a few of my favourite:

• www.recycleplace.com will pay you for your used-up ink and toner cartridges
  
• www.collectivegood.comwill recycle cell phones and PDAs; some are refurbished for use in the developing world
  
• www.oneworldrunning.comdistributes gently used running shoes to athletes in Africa and Latin America
  
• www.nikereuseableshoe.com for shoes that are beyond salvaging, they can be turned into athletic flooring
  

One person's junk is another person's treasure. Try selling your stuff on Craig's List, ebay or giving it away on Free Cycle.

Stop Complaining - An Advent Reflection

Adapted From
"My Big Beef About Christmas"
by Rachelle Mee-Chapman

"Isn't it awful how "they" have hijacked Christmas!"

Christmas has basically equaled time with family + commercialism since the 1800's. The 1800's people! How long are we going to complain about it being hijacked?! Isn't 200 years enough?

Besides, what about the family half of the equation. The warm lovely let's-create-family-memories part may not be oriented around the manger bare, but at least it's shalom-like in nature. And as for the marketing stuff, well we're all sucked into that one way or the other. Seriously, have you seen the ads for the Singing Christmas trees and Live Nativities at the mega churches? And face it, you and I are just as into gift giving and red-and-gold wrapping as the next guy. Besides, it's nice to give presents. It feels generous and loving and celebratory--again, all stuff that can move us a little closer to shalom, if we are present to it.

I don't know. I guess I'd just like thear someone talk about the things we can celebrate in our cultural expression of Christmas. What if we tried to embrace that which is good in our "national" holiday? What if we saw the God-active spots in our cultural celebration---a desire to be together, a hope for peace on earth, an impulse towards generosity -- and we supported that whole heartedly. And what if we expressed alternatives to that which we cannot embrace?

• Where our celebration is soul-less let us offer something, not accusatory and prideful, but humble and soul-ful.
  
• Where there is excess let us offer simplicity. Where there is marketing, let us offer story.
  
• Where there is illusion, let us offer unvarnished bits of truths.
  
• Where there is debt, let us offer relief. Where there is need, let us offer charity.
  

I sometimes question the transformative nature of Christianity. So often we seem to get stuck in these cycles of blame, critique, and ...well...just outright poutiness. But I never question the transformative power of Jesus, of purposing ourselves towards living like Jesus. If we seriously commit to being Jesus-y, well, things just have to change.

Let's try it, shall we? Let's experiment. Let's play in the fields of grace. Go ahead, start a meme. What three things will you embrace about our culture's expression of Christmas? (i.e. Where will you dance in the overlap?) What three things will you practice an alternative to? Here's mine.

Things I'll Embrace about my culture's Christmas:

1. I will embrace spending time with friends and family.
   
2. I will embrace giving charitably to those among us who are poor.
   
3. I will embrace expressing love towards friends and family through thoughtful gift giving.
   

Thing's I'll practice an Alternative to:

1. I will not run around like a chicken with my head cut off during the holiday season (I will limit my "Christmas" events and parties and enjoy and "be present" in those I attend) and I will practice "Sabbath".
   
2. I will be intentional about my gift giving and moderate in my spending.
   
3. I will be conscious of the season of advent and the expectation that goes with it.
   

Tag! You're it!

Don't Hate On Me

Why do we hate on those who are different? How does a faith that is rooted in love for God and love for others end up creating so many haters?

Exchange on the Ask-Ro blog. Funny, but sad.


LORIE WRITES:
u r a hypocrite 4 celebrating Christmas after turning ur back on religion. CHRISTMAS IS A CHRISTIAN HOLIDAY! Ppl need to remember that.

ROSIE WRITES:
jesus wouldn't like u

SHELBY WRITES:
Amen.
Seeing “people of faith” hassle u for not being exactly like them is getting old.


Chicago Sun Times

Open letter to Owen Wilson
BY CATHLEEN FALSANI
Religion Writer


This is a bit of a departure for me, as I’m not in the habit of writing fan letters.

In fact, the last one I sent was a bubble-lettered note to the actor Jon Cryer about 20 years ago in the wake of his earth-moving (for a 16-year-old alt-chick from the suburbs) portrayal of Duckie Dale in “Pretty in Pink.”

But under the circumstances, I thought it was OK to err on the side of sycophancy. So …

Thank God you’re still with us, brother.

Please don’t try that again. We need you.

And by we, I mean the world.

As you well know, these are precarious, fraught times we live in, and the one thing we cannot bear to lose is our sense of humor.

To paraphrase that great celluloid shaman Elwood Blues, you, Mr. Wilson, are on a mission from God.

Just a ‘TV friend’

Laughter is carbonated holiness, and you, therefore, are a holy man, at least according to the theology of Anne Lamott. She’s my favorite writer, a funny lady who is as acquainted with melancholy as she is with humor.

I once asked Annie whether she thought we — people — could be grace for one another. “I think we can hold space for other people,” she said.

In that way, you have been grace for me. On certain overwhelming days, when it’s hard to catch my breath and bleakness curls around my heart like a purring cat, I can reach for any of your films — “Rushmore,” “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “Life Aquatic” or “You Me and Dupree” — and laughter liberates my soul. Your words, written or spoken, sometimes provide the space for joy where it felt like there was none.

Thank you for that.

Now, I don’t know you from Adam. You’re just a “TV friend,” as they say. Still, I can’t help but believe that the common thread in your character portrayals — whether it’s whacked-out-on-mescaline Eli Cash, self-effacing fatherless Ned Plimpton, or tiny-cowboy-with-a-Napoleon-complex Jedediah — is the inherent you. The Owen-ness. It’s a certain empathy — profound tenderness, really — that makes the ridiculous compelling and buoys tragedy to comedy.

Seeing with God’s eyes

It is precisely because of your wounded-ness and the visible cracks in your veneer that your characters transcend two-dimensional clownishness.

You are the ne’er-do-well we root for in spite of himself (and our own judgementalism). You bring out the best in us and make it easy to forgive setting the living room on fire or crashing our wedding (or funeral). You are the mensch, the fool for the Lord, the stranger whom we let in, the divine comedian.

One blogger, a journalist who apparently knew you in Austin, Texas, back in the day, described you recently in a heartfelt essay as “a human sunbeam in the abyss.”

I’m guessing, given recent events, that kind of description may seem laughable to you. Still, that’s how many folks perceive you even if you can’t see it yourself. And sometimes strangers can see us far more clearly than we are capable of seeing ourselves. If we’re really lucky, they might see us with God’s eyes.

I had to chuckle at one of the news reports about your hospitalization that breathlessly reported you had visited a Santa Monica church the Sunday before the incident, “either out of desperation or devotion.'’ Really, I can think of no better reasons to go to church. After all, to quote Annie again, the best two prayers one can offer to the Creator are: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Should you find yourself back at that church or another, please know it is meant to be a shelter in the storm, the place where brokenness is the only prerequisite for membership, and where grace is shared by the bucketsful.

Know that you don’t struggle alone, that you have kind company during dark nights of the soul, that you are lifted in prayer by those who know and love you best, as well as by those who only know you as the voice of Lightning McQueen.

Please let others hold space for you until the encroaching shadow of despair passes. And it will.

And when your contagious laughter bubbles to the surface and overflows once again, know that you are in the presence of the holy.

We need you and the peals of holy laughter you inspire.