On Reading the Bible in a year

Well, I did it!  I read the whole Bible from cover to cover in a year.  This was something I always wanted to do, and I have my late rector, the Rev. Charles "Chuck" Howell to thank for completing this undertaking.  Chuck was taken from us in July succumbing to a life-long cardiac condition, but a stalwart group of us decided to continue reading on in his memory.  And, boy, am I glad I stayed with this daily regimen. It was a long journey from Genesis to Revelations, but a road trip worth taking.  There was deceit and deception, murder and mayhem, trickery and thievery, adoration and adultery, fornication and tom-foolery...better than any soap opera or even "Keeping Up with the Kardashians".


Kim, Kourtney, Khloe, Kendall and Kylie, that sisterly cohort of over indulged California girls, whose life events, no matter how insignificant they may be,  are followed by millions of fans cannot hold a candle to the lives of those biblical women I have read about this year: Sarah, Rebecca, Rachael, Leah, Ruth, Deborah,  Esther, Bathsheba, Jezebel, Miryam, Michal, Mary, Elizbeth, Martha, Mary Magdala, these are women of substance and faith. Their roles in the faith history of monotheistic religions are important and multifaceted. Sarah laughs when she overhears that she will bear a son in her old age; Rebecca has a major hand in the rise of Jacob over his brother Esau; Bathsheba's youngest son by King David will rise to be his heir, Mary, the God-bearer, keep all things locked in her heart and was instrumental in the first public miracle of her Son.






And those sets of brothers!  You just know it is not going to play out as society expects. You may think the oldest is going to win out, but it just doesn't happen, think of Esau and Jacob, Joseph and his crazy siblings, David and his band of rowdy older brothers, Peter and Andrew, and those sons of Zebedee: John and James.




There is also some real dysfunction in familial relationships out there: Abraham is said to have tied his son Isaac to an altar and raised his knife intent on killing him as a blood sacrifice to Yahweh. Okay, an angel intervened at the last moment, but do you think that father-son bonding was the same after that?  I think not. And Sarah does not come off any better.  First she "gives" her servant Hagar to her husband so he can have an heir, but, when she sees the child of that union, Ismael, playing with her son, she convinces Abraham to send the boy and his mother away into the desert with a limited amount of water condemning them to a horrid death.  Of course, once again, divine intervention prevents this from happening.




In the gospels, we get some glimpses of Jesus acting, well, not as nice as we'd like him to be. At the wedding feast at Cana when he is approached by his mother informing him that there is no wine left, his fist reaction is basically.." Ma, Ma...this is not my problem" before he turns the water into wine.  Or how about staying behind in Jerusalem at the age of thirteen, and then responding in a rather flippant manner when his parents finally find him...being about his Father's business, must have gone over well with the folks who were raising him. And how about his admonition to Martha when she just needed an extra set of hands to get the dinner on the table.  She gets told that her sister, the one not doing her share of the dinner prep work, has chosen "...the better portion."  What do you suppose Martha was thinking? "Oh, of course, silly me." or "Really, really Jesus??? Dinner will be late, thank you very much."

And there were moments of pure joy. Having the opportunity to read though the psalms and savoring the beauty of their symbolism and metaphor; closely following the letters of Paul as he travels across the Middle East corresponding with those in Ephesus, Corinth, and finally Rome; enjoying the glimpse into Paul's personal life in his letters to Timothy and Philemon, taking a closer look at the letters of James, Peter and Jude; these were some of the joys of spending ten minutes a day with Scripture.

So, in closing, I comment this discipline to you, but suggest you do it in community...get a group together who will also commit to this year of reading. We used "The NRSV Daily Bible"; it divides the whole book into daily readings with meditations and prayers for each day.  I'd offer to send mine to whomever would like it, but I have already promised it to a friend.

Rememberances of Christmas past.

Alright, I admit it, I get a bit melancholy this time of year.  Don't get me wrong, I am no Scrooge; I really do like Christmas. Humm...I really LOVE Christmas. The crèche on the foyer table, the lighted trees across this island, the presents sitting wrapped under my personal little tree, the ornaments collected over years of family fun and travel, the holiday meal of ham, roast beef or turkey, depending on which family member is in charge, the choristers singing the traditional music of the season, the annual Christmas pageant with a new Mary each year beaming in her blue tunic surrounded by angels, shepherds, assorted livestock and wise men: these things make this time of year a special time for friends and family.

But as I look around I begin to think about those Christmases Past a la Ebenezer Scrooge, and begin to wax nostalgic thinking about those no longer here and some remembered, cherished gifts received and given on this holiday.

As a young child, I received a red cowboy hat which I wore for quite a long time until it became rather tatty and worn.  My father told me it had to be washed, and after dousing it in the sink with hot water and wringing it out, much to my horror, this beloved felt creation turned into a limp and dripping red fabric mess, and, over my protestations, it was finally thrown into the garbage heap by my very happy parents. Yet that unpleasant episode has created in me a penchant for interesting head gear, and I have a wonderful collection of hats for all occasions, although I have not recently bought a new cowboy hat; it is not impossible that one may turn up in the collection in the near future. Of course, I will make sure it never is exposed to hot water.

During my teens, I received a faux fur 3/4 length coat that I loved. It was the late 1960's, so it went well with the mini skirts we were wearing at the time.  I vowed that one day I would buy a real fur coat, and I have done so on several fronts.  Over the years I have owned a raccoon jacket,  full length mink and raccoon coats, and a beaver finger length jacket.  I currently have two mink jackets in the closet; one in a chevron section pattern and the other full skinned. Many of my fur purchases were at second hand events where used furs are resold for charity, and I have in turn donated several for the same purpose.  I feel I am giving these coats a new life and renewed purpose.  And, no, I don't feel guilty wearing them.


During my college years, I received a single lens reflex camera since I signed up for a photography course.  Well, the course closed out and I never took it, but the camera got lots of use.  I brought it with me on my honeymoon to England.  My husband asked to look at it one day, just to see how it worked, and his obsession with photography began. For the next 39 years, I was his production assistant, and never got to take another photo with that camera or the others he collected over the years, including lenses and filters. After his death, I gave them to my son-in-law who also is an excellent photographer, and I bought one of those digital point and shot cameras that I now use when I travel.

And of course, the most important Christmas gift, in 1976 I gave birth to my firstborn on Christmas morning.  It is hard for me to believe that she will be 39 this Christmas Day, and that her brother, my youngest, is currently awaiting the birth of his first child.  Time marches on

But besides remembering significant gifts form Christmas past, I also miss the people who are no longer with us to celebrate this most wonderful of holidays. And I oftimes feel a bit melancholy when I think about friends and family members who are no longer here.  But I think one way to honor their memories is to continue to enjoy the traditions they began.  So we'll put a candle in the window on Christmas Eve so Mary and Joseph can find a place to stay as my Mother did all those years ago.  I will make the Jul Glogg that my Father-in-law taught me to make and will remember that his departure from tradition was to use whiskey instead of aquavit...I will use rum. In honor of Aunt Eleanor, I will try to make her carrot and raisin salad. We'll leave a plate of Christmas butter cookies, some carrots and milk for Santa and his reindeer.  And on Christmas Eve we'll gather at our parish church to sing the traditional carols searching for peace on earth in this time of peril and raise our lighted candles welcoming the Christ Child, the Light of the World, into our hearts again.

Ukes and pans

As some of you may know, I help out at an afterschool arts program at my church.  Over the years, I have written grants with the help of my late rector's wife, and obtained enough funding to run three completely free afterschool school music programs in the New Brighton section of Staten Island. Our two reliable funders are the Staten Island Foundation and Episcopal Charities. We have also been the recipients of monetary donations from friends and parishioners who have seen the value of music education for all children.
Living in New York City means that even in the outer boroughs, we are not lacking for musical talent. Besides, some musicians prefer to take the ferry home to a quieter place that is within close commute to Manhattan, but far enough away from its frenzy that raising kids is easier and downtime becomes time spent with family and friends. And  this trend is working for us. 
The founder of our Children's Choir is a professional singer who for many years during her single life sung in Germany and other places in Europe for several opera companies.  When she moved on to take a position in the Music Department of a local college, one known nation-wide for its Musical Theater grads, she left the leadership in the hands of two other parishoners, both of whom are professional singers.  One of whom is the choir director/teacher at LaGuardia H.S for the Preforming Arts,  which the likes of Liz Minelli, Melissa Manchester, Laura Nyro, Janis Ian and Nicki Minaj attended. I think Liza did not finish since she was starring in the Broadway Production of "Flora the Red Menace" for which she won a Tony in 1965. The Choir is wonderful and they sound angelic and look so as well in their red cassocks and white cottas as they harmonize singing semi-traditional choir music.
I, however, get to oversee the quirky and interesting stuff: ukuleles and steel drums.
New this year, our Uke Group is made up of about 8 children from Grades 2 through 5. At the end of last year, we were approached by our major funder asking if we might consider forming a ukulele class for children.  they had a funder who wanted to fund such a group because he, himself, was a uke player.  We immediately responded in the positive. We contacted a parishioner, a professional Jazz guitarist and soloist, and his wife, a dancer and his able handler, to see if they were interested.  They were, especially once we said their two children would be in the group. Musically in the family won the day! Once we ordered the twelve student and one teacher ukulele, we were off and running! The classes have been both enjoyable and challenging.  Much craftsmanship goes into a stringed instrument, and the Uke is unique. Americans think of it as Hawaiian, but its roots go much deeper. It really is a lute-hybrid evolving from the machete, a four stringed instrument played by Portuguese sailors on exploration ships. Our students are progressing nicely and will be performing at our 4pm Christmas Eve Family Eucharist.
But, I must admit, my heart belongs to the Steel Drums, known as "pans" to those in the Caribbean community.
Pan is a relatively new musical genre.  It is native to Trinidad and Tobago where French, British and African culture collide into something close to Afro-Caribbean-Creole. Original Steel Drums were fashioned out of used oil drums in post World War II Trinidad. The very first pitched steel drums were made from small metal containers and were convex in shape. The steel drum is based on mathematical theories of Pythagoras who calculated the formula for the musical cycle of fourths and fifths, Steel Pans are the only instruments made to follow this configuration. In the 1940's and 1950's pan innovators experimented with the stylings or note patterns, and improved upon the tuning.  Today the drum is constructed from the bottom of a 55 gallon barrel, sunk down in a concave fashion, and tuned with precision.  Pans are very sensitive to heat and cold, handling and environment.  They must be handled with care and respect.  The slightest bump can knock them out of tune, so gentle handling is a must.
But once one has heard a pan master play, there is no going back. The sound is glorious beyond belief...it  can takes you on a magical ride of sound and harmony. I have to state that I am ruined beyond belief for those Subway Serenaders whose slightly unbalanced, but woefully out of tune pans are an abomination to the ear...Get Thee Behind Me!
So, if you have the chance to hear real masters of the ukulele or the steel pan, run...do not walk, to that venue and savor your time there.