AKMA’s Random Thoughts

Even if he hadn’t been one of my favorite students, I would appreciate Will Crawley’s very direct request that I add him to my blogroll. You have my link here, Will, and I will get around to changing the blogroll (but I’m a tad slow about that).

Will works for the BBC (former employer of Euan and Tom) as host of a program about religion; he’s sharp and articulate and I ought to listen more often, but it’s hard to remember. . . .

A lovely, generous friend of us all, Michelle Goodrich, has died. She has shared extraordinarily freely and effectively with friends and strangers alike, and has done so with grace and good cheer from painful circumstances. She no longer knows the limitations that pressed upon her; she is free.

You may meet her at her site, as you learn some of the ingenious, standards-compliant devices she offered to make the Web a more beautiful, more useful medium. You can get to see more behind the scenes in her interview with Frank Paynter (thank you, Frank, for bringing out her answers and saving them for us).

There’ something problematically passive-aggressive about using someone’s death to extort sentiment or action from people. Our friends don’t die to teach us, or to make us better. If hearing about a brave, kind woman’s difficult path moves you to do or say something, maybe you could use her tricks (and note they’re from her, maybe in the alt tag) — or maybe you will lean harder into vacillating politicians and exploitative medical systems so that they take better, more humane care of people in pain.

Michelle put tremendous energy and effort toward the cause of beauty. Beauty enhances the world, gives and continues giving toward glory and wonder, joy and growth; it shares that character of giving-away with the Web, and with Michelle’s habit of offering for free that which she might have held as proprietary secrets. Giving-away makes us all greater; Michelle has made us greater.

Thank you for that, Michelle, and we will pray for you and those who love and miss you.

First of all, I should say belatedly that stromateis transliterates a Greek word that serves as the equivalent for the Latin miscellanea. It’s the neuter plural form of the noun strômateus, “bedspread,” which in the plural form has the sense of “patchwork” (hence, an assortment of various matters, a thing of shreds and patches). Titling a blog entry “Stromateis” is a way of saying “even more random than usual.”

OK, the particular miscellaneous topics for this Sunday include:

• Someone finally said out loud how ludicrous the whole bathrobed-terrorist security breakthrough is. Unfortunately, people will no doubt ignore this (“consider the source,” the World Socialist Web Site).

• Last Saturday at Ravinia, Garrison Keillor read aloud our greeting to Jeannette DeFriest, priest-in-charge of our parish home, St. Luke’s church. Sad to say, he neglected our greetings to other friends and family.

• I uploaded that image from the camera phone that Si traded me (since he never uses it). I have to email the image to my Flickr site without having seen it first. I could obtain a cable to connect my phone to my computer, but the phone service store wants an extortionate $60 for the cable (so that I remain captive to their upload-via-phone connection). Anyone know of a simpler solution, so that I could (for instance) find out ahead of time that the picture I took was blurry, or spruce it up a bit, before I draw it from Flickr?

• Pippa and I rode about five miles on our bicycles yesterday. Mine has one of those old-school hard leather seats — so when I got back, through today, I have felt as though I dropped from a height of forty feet , straddling a telephone pole.

• In church today, one of the torch bearers fainted while I was reading the gospel. As he crumpled to the floor, a parishioner and I caught him, the M.C. and I caught his candle, and several people went to get water and ease him back to consciousness. Imagine a bow-legged priest (see above) holding a processional candle in his left hand, an acolyte in his right arm, ascertaining that said youth was not about to throw up, and signalling the congregation not to be concerned. Everything turned out fine.

• I think there were a few more things, which I’ll add as I think of them.

About a week ago, I spotted a link on David Weinberger’s blog to the EepyBird experiment with Diet Coke and Mentos. I showed it to Margaret, and we both laughed ourselves silly first thing that morning.

Yesterday, Margaret and I got an email from my Mom noting that she’d seen it too, and that the shorter of the two experimentalists is Fritz Grobe, a family friend (the son of my Mom’s best friend from school days), a gold-medal juggler and all-around fascinating guy. I’ve met him, ages ago, so I could claim one degree of EepyBird — but since they’re global celebrities now, I thought it was humbler just to claim the two degrees, whether with my mom as the mediating link or Fritz’s mother and father, whom I knew moderately well a few decades ago.

So, we all got together for a family night out, and went to the movies to see — An Inconvenient Truth. (That’s after having gone to see Prairie Home Companion the weekend before.) I suppose that says something about us, hunh?

Since I didn’t really have a “side” going into the recent General Convention, I can’t really feel as though my side won or lost. At the end, it looks like everyone lost — to the extent that “liberals” won most votes until the end, when they wound up passing a resolution that contradicts the legislation and actions they had been taking so far; either they didn’t really mean all those votes for the first week of the convention, or they didn’t mean the conciliatory note they tried to strike on the last day (and the “Statement of Conscience” by a number of bishops demonstrates the flimsiness of the Episcopal Church’s affirmation of Windsor Report’s expectations). “Conservatives” elicited a reluctant expression of apparent apology, but obviously they lost the vast preponderance of the particular motions and elections; the convention’s proceedings rejected everything that would have pleased “conservatives.”

I expect all sorts of unpleasant fallout from this. I doubt Canterbury wants parallel jurisdictions in the U.S., so I suppose that they may recognize the authority of U.S. bishops, but exclude them from participation in the life of the Anglican Communion unless they repudiate the Episcopal Church’s recent actions — and then to allow parishes that want to remain in communion with Canterbury to affiliate with like-minded bishops, as near to local as possible. That would leave room for U.S. dioceses and parishes to pursue their own ends, but would definitively relegate U.S. (and Canadian and, eventually, U.K. and some other) “liberal” bishops and clergy in a twilight zone where they’re acknowledged as para-Anglican, but not acknowledged as holding any juridical authority relative to the church at large. But I expect that everyone wants a more decisive outcome than that, so many will press to have U.S. Episcopalians cut off, and plenty of U.S. Episcopalians don’t want to be accountable to a world church that disagrees with them.

If I weren’t aware of how partial my insight is, I’d suggest that very many of the most prominent spokespeople on the present miasma have lost touch with two facts. Fact One is that, however homophobic some people may be, there are very sound theological reasons for conservatives to resist the consecration of lesbigay bishops, and the blessing of same-sex relationships. I don’t hold to those ideas — I don’t think they’ll hold up in the long run — but that doesn’t make them nugatory, or bigoted, or uninformed, or illogical. The people whom I think wrong have a very strong case.

Fact Two is that pious, faithful, learned, spiritually profound theologians hold that there should be no ecclesiastical impediment to these consecrations and blessings. However problematic those sacramental gestures seem to some observers, and however many weak reasons that some proponents advance, a significant constituency of responsible Anglican theologians thinks that hetero- or homosexuality ought not determine full participation in church life.

If we were taking seriously both these facts, I imagine the Episcopal Church’s last two weeks would have run rather differently — but it’s easier, and more practically effective, to trade in straw adversaries and overblown polemical misrepresentations. Presumably the partisans expect that their protestations of “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out opponents in your name, and enact many deeds of power in your name?” will be met with a hearty, “You bet!” I wonder whether there might not be another possible answer to that question.

Do you think these glare-prevention scarves will catch on? Laura thought I should see. . . .

Margaret, who cheerfully and painstakingly is reading proofs and constructing the index for my Fortress book, looked up from her labors to wonder what the index for David’s book Everything Is Miscellaneous will look like.

Yesterday morning, I received a video iChat invitation from Pascale, who wanted to show off her new roommate Ariel. I, in turn, brought Beatrice to the computer, and we exchanged pet stories and pleasantries.

Margaret called from the kitchen that the flat of strawberries she had bought for Saturday’s trip to Ravinia was not disappearing as fast as necessary, and wouldn’t Pascale like some? Pascale answered that what we really ought to do was make Strawberry Sauce. Margaret pooh-poohed the notion, but I queried Pascale for more details, and she explained how brain-dead simple it was (if it hadn’t seemed brain-dead simple, I wouldn’t have remembered it). And when Margaret left for her morning’s writing work at Peet’s, Pippa and I snuck into the kitchen and stealthily whipped two quarts of strawberries into sauce.

We tested it on our lunch waffles, and agreed that it was pretty good. When Margaret came home from Peet’s, we surprised her with the jar brimful of intoxicating strawberry essence. We served vanilla ice cream for dessert, topped with our own Strawberry Sauce (top secret recipe), and the afternoon of setting and refrigeration had turned our pretty-good strawberry sauce exquisite. Thanks, Pascale!

Several people have wondered what I think about the election of Katharine Jefferts Schori as the next Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, and the short answer is, “I don’t know.” I’ll certainly pray for her and her family, for the leadership infrastructure of the Episcopal Church, and for new health for the Anglican Communion as a whole.

But I haven’t seen any reliable sample of her theological reasoning, and at this time we need sound, deep theological reasoning more than just about any other characteristic.

I hear reports that she has a lovely, gracious, attentive, focused personality. She has a pilot’s license and flies her own airplane. To state the obvious, she’s a woman, and there is good in U. S. Episcopalians not assuming that a Presiding Bishop must be male.

At the same time, if she can’t back up her winsome character traits with weighty theological reasoning, all the positives won’t add up to enough to preserve even marginally cooperative relations with the Anglican Communion outside the U.S., nor to bolster the theological integrity of the Episcopal Church. For a variety of cultural reasons, the Episcopal Church in the U.S. can’t quite believe that anyone can (or should) take theological truth seriously, and tends to settle for lo-cal substitutes (convention conflict as “Less Filling!” vs. “Tastes Great!”); the vital (and I mean that word emphatically) importance of theology for the church remains in inconvenient truth. I hope I’ll learn that Bishop Jefferts Schori can handle that aspect of her new calling.

The family honored Father’s Day today with cards and gifts — Si sent me the card above, which Pippa drew for him. It’s a whale of a card, for a whale of a Dad, and Si added a kindly appreciative message on the inside.

Pippa herself gave me a small bag of goodies, including a bouquet of silk flowers that she had made (more in the realm of imaginative flowers than the exact reproduction of familiar floral forms), which hung over my place in the dining room. She added a card of her own, on which she transcribed the definition of “father” from the

Random House College Dictionary

she picked up at the most recent library Book Sale.

Best of all, she suspended her recent abstinence from graphical endeavors to produce a pastel for me, a wonderful picture of three brilliant tomatoes on a bright blue background. What a wonderful family — I’m very proud of all of them, and blessed that I got the assignment of being “father” among such remarkable, gifted souls!

This afternoon, we’re heading north to Ravinia to see A Prairie Home Companion — the live show, not the movie (Pippa’s a big PHC fan, loves Guy Noir). I’ll post some observations here after the show, but for now we’re gathering our forces, mapping out food and supply strategies, and devising our plans for reconnaissance and deployment. More later.