ChristmasZilla

Maybe I'm cranky because every morning I have to drive past a McDonald's where the Ghost of Christmas Accelerated vomited bling on the front lawn a full two weeks ago. Maybe it's the reports of greedy shoppers coming to blows over toys. Maybe it's the TV promos for the Victoria's Secret Christmas special, where we learn that the reason for the season is watching anorexic models parade their concentration-camp pelvises and enhanced boobs, accented by thongs and pushup bras, down runways. Maybe it's the church Christmas events queueing up on the calendar before the Thanksgiving leftovers are gone.

But do you ever feel that ChristmasZilla is about to devour what is left of the observance of Advent? Ever feel that we liturgical folks are increasingly giving up on the attempt to observe Advent in any meaningful way, even in our churches?

Let There Be Peace On Earth -- But Not in Our Subdivision

I knew that Colorado was, like, the Independent Republic of Fundastan, but this beats all.

Finis

I did it.

I visited every single one of the RevGalBlogPals' blogs.

On the Other Hand...

...maybe it was 20 or 30 more blogs?...

Who knew a bunch of (mostly) female God geeks could be so talkative.

As an ex-Marine friend of mine used to tell me: Persevere!

The Delurking Continues

Well, the RevGalBlogPals' official Delurking Week is over, but I can't stop now...I have just about...oh, 15 or so blogs to go on that list, plus my sadly neglected friends on my own blogroll.

Fellow Traveler says, "Do you think that maybe you have just a touch of OCD?"

When Worlds Collide

Two men in a room.

One man, dressed in the crisp white linen of the ruling classes, the official representative of the Roman Emperor, the self-proclaimed Kurios of all the world.

The other man -- dirty, beaten, bloody, weak -- the real Kurios of all; the one in whom and for whom and through whom all things were made and in whom all things hold together.

Two worlds colliding.

The scandal of Christianity, then as now, is that Christians claim the second man, and not the first, as their Lord. That's the party line, anyway.

The reality? Christians find the power of the first man strangely seductive; something that they themselves often long to achieve. Throughout the centuries, "winning the world for Christ" has, more often than not, simply meant winning the world -- claiming and exploiting the world's resources; subjugating, marginalizing, sometimes forcibly converting, sometimes killing non-Christians; gaining political and cultural supremacy.

But throughout the centuries, that image of two men in a room still confronts us; still disturbs us.

Our king -- the king whom we claim to long for in our Advent hymns, the king whose birth we celebrate at Christmas and whose revealing we rejoice in at Epiphany, is a king whose crown and scepter and robe are instruments of torture and mockery, given to him by those whose ultimate loyalty is to Kurios of this world and the values of that reign.

When our king says, "Follow me," he asks us to follow him into that place where worlds collide; where his kingship is at best sentimentalized and dismissed, at worst actively and violently opposed.

We hesitate. We don't really want a king whose power is in weakness, whose victory is in defeat.

But our Kurios, unlike the other, is not a king "up there" or "out there," apart from his subjects. He is a king who not only goes before us to show us the way, but who stands beside us in solidarity with our own pain and weakness and defeat, and who stands behind us, to comfort and encourage us. He's a king who conquers not through the love of power, but through the power of love. And he begins his conquest in our hearts.

All hail the King of All -- the King who stoops to conquer.

artwork: "Christ Before Pilate," Duccio di Buoninsegna

Grace-ious Sakes

I forgot the story about saying grace at Thanksgiving this year.

I was recruited for this task by my co-hostess because of my credentials as a God geek/lay ministry trainee. My mission: To come up with a blessing suitable for a couple of Christians, a Buddhist, a vociferously religion-averse individual and a few of the theologically uncategorized.

I could have insisted on my Christocentric family favorite -- "Come, Lord Jesus/be our Guest/let these gifts/to us be blest." I could have come up with some subtly evangelizing blessing that quickly slipped the J-word past the goalie.

Here's what I did instead. To honor Fellow Traveler's family tradition, I had everyone hold hands, go around in a circle and name one thing they were thankful for this year.

Then I led the group in a non-theistic table prayer I learned a ways back. I had everyone repeat after me:

It is.

It is good.

It is good to be.

It is good to be together.

I will admit to an Abrahamic "Amen!" that kind of got away from me at the end...but I really could feel a certain group tenseness dissolve somewhere in the middle of this exercise as people realized that I wasn't going to go all Christian on them.

I suppose some readers think I compromised my principles to an unacceptable degree with my unorthodox table grace. Well...you do what you have to do when you have to do it. It's too bad that Christianity has wounded so many people in such profound ways that those of us who claim Christ have to tread so lightly in some circles. But I think The CEO understands.

Turkey Day Wrap-Up

No...not talking about the foil packets in the refrigerator. (Which I can't do anyway, because we don't have any more leftovers.)

We had a splendiferous Thanksgiving -- seven people, two takeouts to our elderly relations, six dogs, one cat. (The cat stayed away from the festivities, but the six dogs all, amazingly, got along -- even my cranky, neurotic, elderly mutt.) In a striking example of the Almighty providing, the 12-15-pound turkey I'd ordered from the turkey farmer miraculously grew to almost 19 pounds; the farmer reported that his smaller turkeys had "gotten away from him" and eaten themselves all the way into the next size range. This turned out to be fortuitous; we wound up with just enough leftovers for an extra meal and a "people bag" for Fellow Traveler's sister. The huge casserole of dressing was almost entirely gone by the end of the day -- Fellow Traveler added a bit of apple butter from our church's apple-butter-making project to a standard stuffing , which made it extra good. All the other side dishes were pretty much decimated, as were our Amish-made pies and the Amish rolls, which were so rich and sweet that they tasted more like shortcake biscuits than yeast bread.

I have to admit to a certain amount of trepidation as I approached my first parentless Thanksgiving. People had cautioned that this would be a hard one for me. But I was very happy playing co-hostess-with-the-mostess; I felt as if we'd helped make the day special for others. And we're already talking about next year. (When I'll know to order the larger bird.)

Anyway -- here are two of my own contributions to our repast; an old standby of my family's, and a new salad:

German Sweet-Sour Beans
1 pound fresh or frozen green beans
lean bacon -- 6-8 slices, diced
1 medium onion, diced
1/4 cup cider vinegar
2 TBS sugar
salt and pepper

Cook green beans in enough water to leave you with about 3/4 cup of bean liquid. Meanwhile, fry bacon on medium heat; add onion midway and continue cooking until onion is soft and transparent. Add beans and 3/4 bean liquid to pan; simmer until liquid is reduced by about a third. Add vinegar and sugar; season with salt and pepper, and adjust the sweet-sour ratio to your liking; reduce liquid again until thickened. Beans can be served either hot or room temperature, and taste great reheated the next day.

Spinach-Pear Salad
baby spinach
Bosc pears, diced
toasted pecans
a little bit of finely diced red onion
a few sprinkles of good coarsely grated or shaved Parmesan cheese

Toss the above with a sweetish vinaigrette -- I used an interesting recipe I found on the Internet that included balsamic vinegar, olive oil, a sploosh of real maple syrup, another sploosh of Dijon mustard. (Keep an open mind.)

Today we got together again with our Thanksgiving guests and some other women in our circle of correspondence, and let someone else (at one of Fellow Traveler's and my favorite restaurants, the Brass Cafe in Mt. Pleasant) make lunch for us. Another day of good food and friendship. But we are beat. And -- no more leftovers to nosh on by the light of the refrigerator.

Mollie

"Greetings. My name is Mollie. The new visiting human, the one who calls herself LutheranChik, evidently snapped this photo while I was asleep on the DVD player; I have my own room, with my own bed, but I occasionally come out to observe the humans and -- sigh -- their ridiculous canines. Why the humans insist on associating with such smelly and undignified creatures I can scarcely imagine, but I suppose it has something to do with dogs' ingratiating fawning and licking and cuddling, which the humans seem to interpret as affection. I want to say, It's all about the food, you imbeciles. But humans are sentimentalists; they wouldn't believe me. Still, there's something amusing about being around them all, even the little yappy white creature. And I have them fairly well trained; even the new one. So I choose to stay. Because it suits me."

Charlie

This is Charlie. He lives next door to Fellow Traveler; his own human family doesn't seem to have a lot of time for him, so he comes over about -- oh, three or five or eight or nine times a day, for petting and treats and a hang-out with his doggy friends. Charlie's not a very complicated dog -- if he had a cartoon balloon over his head, the balloon would probably either say "?" or "!" But he loves his name; he loves a pat on the head; he loves the doggie-treat jar that plays "Who Let the Dogs Out?" or "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog" when you open the lid.

"Shop 'Til You Drop Friday Five"

A seasonally appropriate Friday Five from the RevGalBlogPals :

Would you ever/have you ever stood in line for something--tickets, good deals on electronics, Tickle Me Elmo?

The last thing I stood in line for was a room lottery for the crunchy "alternative" dorm, back in college. I actually had to camp out in the dorm lobby overnight. I got in. Not sure it was worth it, though.

Do you enjoy shopping as a recreational activity?
I do, but it does have to completely recreational -- I can't be on a mission to find something I need; that's work -- and it's not going to be in a mall. Boutiquing and art gallerying in some picturesque resort area or university town -- that's what recreational shopping means to me.

Your favorite place to browse without necessarily buying anything.
Bookstores. Eclectic art/artisan galleries featuring regional talent -- places where the fine art shares space with $15 earrings and handmade Christmas ornaments and such. Gourmet cooking stores. Hardware stores -- the small-town kind with squeaky floors, that smell like galvanized metal and salt licks.

Gift cards: handy gifts for the loved one who has everything, or cold impersonal symbol of all that is wrong in our culture?
I promise not to be offended by gift cards involving coffee or books.

Discuss the spiritual and theological issues inherent in people coming to blows over a Playstation 3.
Hmmm: How about You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself? Or You shall not steal? Or You shall not kill? Or You shall not covet? Treat others the way you want to be treated?

It's Delightful...It's Delovely...It's Delurking...

This must be what speed dating is like.

After resolving to lift my eyes from my navel long enough to (re)connect with blogpals old and new, I began to delurk; I started with the RevGalBlogPals. Sadly, last night I could not access Blogspot blogs, which impeded my progress a great deal, but today I think I dropped by over 40. I started at the beginning; got impatient at about the mid-C's, started up again at the M's; got impatient again and started at the opposite end of the list. I figure if I keep skipping around like this I'll eventually get to everyone on the list, at which point I can segue over to much-neglected ringless blog buddies who've been with me from the git-go, and the Reconciling bloggers.

This is quite enjoyable. There is just so much life being lived, and shared, out there. Thanks to all for your insight, wit, honesty and generosity.

Oh...and here's a meme -- remember those? Haven't seen too many lately -- I brought home as a souvenir. It's all about word association:

Word Up

Yourself: procrastinating
Your partner: sweet
Your hair: spiky
Your Mother: observing from eternity, wondering why I didn't attempt pie (I know this isn't a word -- deal with it)
Your Father: large-and-in-charge
Your Favorite Item: laptop
Your dream last night: busy
Your Favorite Drink: coffee
Your Dream Car: Vibe
Your Dream Home: eclectic
The Room You Are In: wreck (again)
Your Ex: imaginary
Your fear: which?
Where you Want to be in Ten Years? happy
Who you hung out with last night: dog
What You're Not: organized
Muffins: yes
One of Your Wish List Items: bicycle
Time: night
The Last Thing You Did: instant-message
What You Are Wearing: loungewear
Your favorite weather: autumnal
Your Favorite Book: witty
Last thing you ate?: chips
Your Life: busy
Your mood: distracted
Your Best Friends: IMing
What are you thinking about right now?: vegetables
Your car: mess
What are you doing at the moment: multitasking
Your summer: "Sweeeet!"
Relationship status: cozy
What is on your tv?: "Law and Order"
What is the weather like: nippy
When is the last time you laughed: recently

My First Cooperatively Planned and Executed, Parentally Unsupervised Thanksgiving Menu

Locally grown turkey…dressing…smashed potatoes…baked butternut and delicata squash…roasted root vegetables…German sweet-sour green beans (my ancestors never met a vegetable they felt couldn’t be improved by pickling and/or amending with pork products)…spinach, pear and pecan salad…relish plate…Amish rolls…Amish pies – pumpkin, raspberry and pecan. (In addition to our simply enjoying Amish baked goods, and wanting to help out the local Amish baker…I am a piecrust coward who labors under the psychological burden of my mother’s consistently light, flaky and perfectly crimped piecrust, convinced that I am unable to ever replicate it to my own or anyone else’s satisfaction.)

Something old; something new.

Disorganized Religion

Joining the ranks of celebrities who attempt to do religion in public -- Mel, Madonna, Britney, Tom, et al (Note to any celebrities reading this: Unless you're Bono, don't try it) -- Sir Elton John has opined that organized religion should be banned because it promotes homophobia, does not provide a compelling moral voice against war, and turns people into "hateful lemmings."

I heard Sir Elton's comments on television, juxtaposed against an Internet news article on "outraged" Pakistani Islamic fundamentalists (are they ever not outraged?)loudly fulminating over their government's plans to make rape a crime prosecuted under civil and not religious law, thus making obsolete such astoundingly stupid rules as requiring the accused woman to produce four male witnesses to her rape, and punishing both parties for adultery if the accused is found innocent. Which made my first thought, upon hearing Sir Elton, "Great -- when can we start?"

Then I thought of the inevitable anti-Elton backlash among the exciteable sectors of Christendom -- oh, great; thanks for representing. And I also felt a certain amount of defensive irritation: Hey, Elton -- you're dissing me too. But it also made me sad, even though -- and I might have to give up my toaster for saying this -- the last Elton John album I really liked was Madman Across the Water. I think before Christians open our pieholes about persecution and scorn at the hands of the dominant culture, we do indeed need to think about our own history of library burnings, forced conversions, inquisitions, pogroms, burnings at the stake, institutionalized bigotries of various kinds, and generally winding up on the wrong side of reality whenever we try to make declarative statements about matters of science or partisan politics.

But then I went to church on Sunday. And, experiencing our situation-normal-all-cobbled-up cacaphony of anarchic children, unfortunate extemporaneous harmonizing gone awry, AWOL microphone, unannounced announcements, missing worship helpers, misread lectionary texts, adolescent female fashion don'ts involving an excess of tummy and a minimum of top, a kerfuffled lay minister and my own red-faced choreographical missteps as an anxious assisting, it occurred to me -- my parish is such an example of disorganized religion that it would most certainly be exempted from Sir Elton's desired purge. Whew.

In Search of the Lost Minor Chord

This past Sunday in church our hymns had a definite eschatological tone -- the spiritual "Soon and Very Soon," and old Reformation-era greatest hits, heavy on the minor chords, themed around the tribulation of the saints, like "Lord, Keep Us Steadfast in Your Word." These latter hymns are what I cut my musical eyeteeth on back in Zion Evangelical Lutheran Church, before my feet could reach the sanctuary floor. I like them. I told our organist so. She beamed, and said, "There's another reason God brought you to our church!"

Gosh, ma'am -- I just said I liked minor chords.

Not everyone does. I was Googling online later in the day, looking for the name of an imaginary sponsor of Prairie Home Companion -- I think it's the Society For the Preservation of Minor Chords -- and as often happens during such searches I found myself headed down a variety of strange Christian-subcultural rabbit holes. While I'm quite aware that many of my more Protestant brethren and sistren prefer more uptempo music than I do, I guess I was not entirely aware that some Christians turn musical composition itself into a moral issue -- that they parse Scriptural passages about joyful noise and such, and extrapolate that into a kind of biblical prohibition against "downer" church music. Minor chords = bad. Happy-happy-joy-joy melodies = good. (If you really want to go canoeing on the backwaters of Christianity and see what some folks think about "godly" versus "ungodly" music, take a lookie here -- I especially enjoyed the gratuitous sexism and racism inserted in what purports to be a discussion of music -- or here , or here, or here .)

If our worship is a reflection of our theology -- then it's hard to see how someone who thinks use of minor chords is somehow falling short of the glory of God can have any grasp on the theology of the Cross -- the concept of God coming to us and sharing in our suffering, our weakness and defeat. Life is not always happy-happy-joy-joy. Pretending that it is, is frankly not telling the truth about either the human experience in general or the Christian experience in particular...and at least the way I see it, those of us who follow Christ are charged with being in the truth business. For all those moments of joy at the thought that "we're goin' to see the King," there are also moments of pensiveness and introspection, of sadness, of despair; times when we plead, "Lord Jesus Christ, your power make known." Our music needs to reflect that part of the faith journey as well in order to be an authentic expression of who we are as the people of God.

Happy Delurking Week!

Here's the deal: One of the things we should all be thankful for is the blogosphere and the dwellers therein -- people who have impressed us with their knowledge and insight; who have touched us with their stories; whose wisdom, wit and honesty have enriched our own lives online and off.

My friends the RevGalBlogPals have declared this week Delurking Week. It's a time to stop in and say hi to fellow bloggers. If you can leave a message, great; if you just want to say "Hey, I was here," post a (0) stone symbol.

I have to take this opportunity to confess that in the last few months, in the midst of all my various life dramas, I've been incredibly remiss in visiting my favorite blogs inside and outside the rings in which I participate. This is a great week to play catch up. Bloggers...here I come!

Ain't No Thing Like a Chicken Wing

The people have spoken.

"Why don't you post some of your chicken wing contest recipes?"

Alrighty then.

This whole thing started after Fellow Traveler and I, having discovered our mutual love of chicken wings, exhausted the meager assortment of wing flavors available within a 50-mile radius and decided to make them ourselves. First we just tried different premade sauces and rubs (try Patak's Hot Curry Paste on wings -- this is one of our favorite favorites); then our competition evolved into whole recipes. I do not yet have FT's recipe for peanut wings, her personal best, or her spicy Thai wings, another great recipe -- if you ask nicely she may share it -- but here are the latest wing recipes I've tried:

Standard Recipe: Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Season wings, if not alread marinated; place in a single layer on cookie sheets. Bake for 30 minutes. Baste with sauce of choice. Bake another 15 minutes; turn; baste with sauce; bake another 15 minutes.

The Sauces: (these make enough for about 3-4 pounds of wings)

Maple Wing Sauce
1/3 cup teriyaki sauce
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 TBS minced garlic
1 TBS garlic powder
1 TBS onion powder
1/2 TBS freshly ground pepper
1 cup maple syrup

Mix together and use as a wing baste. The amount of garlic seems insane...but it works.

Tandoori Wing Marinade
2 cups plain yogurt
1 TBS ground cumin
1 TBS garam masala
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground turmeric
1 tsp chili powder
juice of 1 lemon
8 crushed cloves of garlic
1 inch gingerroot, grated

Mix together. Marinate wings overnight in marinade, then use to baste the wings while baking. This is actually meant to be used in a much hotter oven...is great on grilled foods.

Spicy Apricot Wing Sauce
1 jar apricot preserves
1/4 cup soy sauce
1/4 cup ketchup
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 TBS cider vinegar
1 TBS Dijon mustard
1/8 cup minced onion
1/4 tsp pepper
1/4 tsp or so garlic powder
a good shake of red pepper flakes

Mix in saucepan; bring to boil; simmer until preserves are melted and flavors are melded together. Cool and use as wing baste. (Note: This may be because I am genetically predisposed to sweet-sour flavors, but I think this recipe would be better with more vinegar for a little more zip. Your mileage may vary. Taste and adjust.)

(Hat tip to Dave's Un-Official Superchicken Page .)

Songs of Thankfulness and Praise...

This week's Friday Five is all about thankfulness: What are five things that we give thanks for this year?

First on my list is Fellow Traveler, who unexpectedly showed up in my life during a time of great sadness and chaos and disconnect, and who has given me love, encouragement, laughter, focus, structure (she's laughing now) and a new, delightful extended family of two-leggeds and four-leggeds alike. And I'll stop now before I get all sappy.

Next is my church family, which includes not only my pastor, his spouse and the rest of my parish, but all my friends in the greater Body of Christ, including you, Dear Readers. Especially after my mother died unexpectedly back in April, I have felt held in a group embrace; many members of my wider church family have also given me wise counsel and support when I have been the most angry and frustrated with Church,Inc. You've also challenged me in helpful ways -- challenged me to be more articulate and smarter and better; to stay focused on Christ and not on his self-anointed best friends and police force and personnel managers. You know that cell phone ad about having a network -- the caller enjoying a small army of "connection" behind him or her? That is how I feel. Thanks for alternatively patting me on the back, watching my back and very occasionally giving me motivational nudges in the lower end of my back.

What else am I thankful for?

I am thankful for the quiet domestic moments in my life. Even though my house is more like a collegiate crash pad than a middle-aged person's domicile, there are times -- early in the morning, savoring a cup of coffee while looking outside into the woods, or quiet Sunday afternoons reading the paper -- when I look around and think, "Life is good."

I am thankful for my counterintuitive risk-taking -- all those moments this year when I felt the fear and did it anyway.

I am thankful for Buffalo wings, for various reasons.

That's just my short list. But it's enough for today.

Artwork: "Harvest," by one of my very favorite graphic artists, Mary Azarian .

Friday Poetry Blogging

A poem in honor of the upcoming holiday. And, to go with it, a picture relating to fall harvest , by Robert Lewis. Enjoy!

Toy Story

Well, I'm sure that the Martyrs' Brigade of Culturally Aggressive Christianity is already hand-wringing and contemplating the Rapture, now that Toys for Tots has rejected a shipment of talking Jesus dolls made by a manufacturer of Christian-themed merchandise (see link above). The organization explained that the Marines, as a federal entity, cannot promote a particular religious belief system, and cited the fact that the toys might cause offense to children of non-Christian faiths.

I wonder if anyone has stopped to consider that this latest incarnation of what a pastor friend of mine refers to as Kristian Krap might cause offense to Christians as well.

My initial reaction to this story was to imagine what would happen in the more exciteable sectors of the Christian community if Toys For Tots were to be flooded with a large donation of, say, talking Buddha or Krishna or Prophet Mohammed dolls. I suspect we would not be hearing choruses of "Kumbaya."

My subsequent thought was...well..."Were these people thinking at all?" I mean, did the doll donators stop and consider the Lord's instruction to "Do unto others..."? Did it occur to them that their gift would present a conflict of interests, not to mention a public-relations headache, for the Marines? Did they wonder what a child without a Christian context would even make of a talking Jesus doll -- would they maybe mistake him for a karate-master action figure ("Mom, what movie is this guy from?"), or some anonymous indigenous person disattached from a G.I. Joe themed tableau?

I'm thinking...not a lot of thinking going on. Unless, of course, the manufacturers of the doll were craven enough to calculate that their Toys For Tots donation would provoke controversy, which would provoke news articles, which in turn would drum up business. Ends, means, potato, po-tah-to.

I've made this analogy before: To me pop Christianity is like a big, slobbery, humpy Newfoundland that jumps all over people, irritates the hell out of them -- slurps their faces with its big, goofy tongue, showers them with saliva, tries to initiate a close personal relationship with their thighs -- and then when the people, understandably, protest this behavior, the Newfoundland gets angry and bites them in the posterior.

To which I say, Gee, thanks. Thanks for representing, Sparky.