Melancholy Christmas Carols

This is the time of year that is kind of warm and fuzzy with snowflakes, candy canes, jolly white-bearded guys in red suits, angelic cherubs and cuddly shepherds singing sweet carols of Christmas.  But not all of the tunes written for this season are happy, slappy , sappy songs.  Some are rather melancholy and somber with a hint of irony. The list is not too long, but here are a few from my collection of off-kilter, but relevant Christmas tunes..some not quite carols that have spoken to my soul at one point or another during my lifetime:

1. "The Coventry Carol" dates back to the 16th Century and is part of a play remembering the slaughter of the Innocents during the reign of Herod during which the Christ Child escapes to Egypt with the Holy Family.  It is set as a lull-a-bye sung by the mothers of the slaughtered children to the babes they will hold no more.  How is that for melancholia?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QIvH5GdY4JE

2. "Gabriel's Message" is a Basque folk tune and 13th century carol that came into the English lexicon in the 19th century.  It recounts the Annunciation to the Virgin Mary by the Angel Gabriel that she would bear the Savior, the Son of God. It also echoes the opening of the Magnificat, one of the canticles used in Morning Prayer.  Sting's recording is probably the most familiar.  I do like this one, but I am a sucker for any Sting tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GF2BzUDeTkY

3. "In the Bleak Mid-Winter" was written by English poet Christina Rossetti in response to a magazine that wanted to publish a Christmas poem.  After her death, it was put to music and placed in the Anglican hymnal...so the Episcopal church included it in theirs.  I happen to like this one quite a lot.  It just speaks to me, even though I find its theology a bit simplistic.  But, that is another discussion.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0aL9rKJPr4

4. "I heard the Bells on Christmas Day" was written in 1863 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow after receiving new that his son was seriously injured in a battle during the Civil War. It was first called "Christmas Bells' and was actually written on Christmas Day.  In its entirety, it references events that happened during the war that impacted Longfellow's thoughts. At the end, the bells bring hope for peace...a sentiment we can still relate to.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ccHLJ7J84k4

So, there they are.  I am sure you have your favorites.  But I think I need to end this on a lighter note, so I am including a link to my new favorite Chanukah song that I heard at a recent concert.  It is sung in Ladino, a dialect spoken for centuries by Sephardic Jews living in Spain and along the Mediterranean.  It is called "Ocho Kandelikes"; I hope you like it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9h3u88wLrAQ

New for the Holidays

Here we are again, Christmas is upon us, and, if you are like me, there are things that rest in your holiday DNA that just seem to jump out year after year. My "must do" list includes putting candles in the window (now I use the flameless ones); arranging oranges and walnuts in bowls, preparing hot chocolate with peppermint sticks and gobs of freshly whipped cream, setting up the crèche with the magi in transit, and in homage to my Scandinavian in-laws, simmering glogg based loosely on Uncle Ole's recipe: aquavit or rum with raisins, blanched whole almonds, cinnamon sticks, cloves and orange peel mixed with hearty red wine. There have been variations of this basic recipe over the years with many debates and annual rivalries, but the spirit of the "spirit" of the Christmas Spirit was always accompanied by the smell of warm glogg on the stove.  

A very Swanson Christmas

So, our familial traditions were always a mishmash of Northern European traditions: Irish, British, German and Swedish melded with the  hustle and bustle of New York City during the holidays...a cosmopolitan celebration of mixed messages: blue and white Chanukah  lights with dreidels, latkes, jelly doughnuts, and chocolate coins covered in "gold" foil; Salvation Army Santas ringing their bells on the streets in Manhattan by Macy's; the decorated shop windows along Fifth and Seventh Avenues; the over-the-top Christmas lights in Dyker Heights and Belmont; the smell of roasting chestnuts near the Rockefeller Center Tree; the decorations at St. Patrick's Cathedral; the Nutcracker at the NYC Ballet; the decorated trees at Lincoln Center and Wall Street...these all mix together to make this time of year a great time to be in the city that never sleeps.

Over the past few years I have had to adapt my holiday activities to my new lifestyle as a downsized single adult.  I went from my parents' house to living with my late spouse in various apartments and houses.  I now essentially have a space of my own which is smaller than the space that could hold 30 to 40 people for a party or other gathering. So, you adapt. December 23rd will find me with cousins in Connecticut for a holiday gathering.  I show up with a good bottle of wine and assorted gifts for kiddoes and have a wonderful time. On Christmas Eve after the family service at my church, I take my immediate family and others to dinner at my favorite restaurant. I have given up wrapping lots and lots of presents and take the kinder and grandkinder to a NYC event of their choosing.  This year they chose to return to that New York staple: the Christmas Show at Radio City Music Hall complete with dancing Santas and high-kicking Rockettes. Christmas Day itself will be low-key.  Lunch at my son's with the newest grandchild and others for an informal gathering. New traditions for a new chapter of life.
                          

Now, it is important for all of us to understand that we are celebrating real miracles.  For our Jewish friends, it is the miracle of the Festival of Lights; a time for new hope and revitalization. For we Christians it is the miracle of the Incarnation: God made man. The beginning of our salvation story. So, Come let us celebrate together; gather with friends and family; enjoy old traditions or start new ones; blend and bend and dance and sing together: Let the Earth rejoice!

Take Responsibility, Already!

While watching a cable news network a few days ago, a lead story about the role that "fake" news articles played in our recent national elections was aired. In this short "spot", one of the cable news guys interviewed a normal looking man who lives in California.  Now, what makes this particular man a bit unusual was how he supplemented his income.  He wrote what he happily described as "fake" news stories deliberately designed to deceive.  He admitted that the "header" to the story was an almost exact replica of the "header" used by a well known and well respected online news network.

He admitted writing a completely false "news" article that slandered and besmirched the reputation of one of the candidates for President of the United States. He claims to have earned about $8,000 for the piece that was seen by over 1.5 million people and passed on by 500,000 of them.
He claims that this might be something he should not have sent out, but took no personal responsibility for his decietful actions.
 
Don't get him wrong, he was happy to finally talk to someone from a "real" news organization, but wondered aloud why they had not been investigating this kind of behavior before the election was over. No one stepped in to stop him, so he just went along his merry way creating false stories about people and getting financial reward for reeking havoc and openly lying.  Gee whiz, he knew it was wrong, but no one knew he was doing it, so he just continued to do it because he got rewarded for behavior he knew was wrong...and, just so you know...it was NOT his fault.  No one stopped him; no one called him out, and no seemed to care. In his mind that made it okay for him to act badly.  Shame on him.

In the case of this unwise writer, no one died as a result of his bad behavior.

This, unfortunately, is not true of another more tragic event in the news.  The deaths of 36 in a fire in a warehouse that was being used in ways inappropriate to its design or purpose.

The owners are recorded crying and wailing in front of TV cameras. The husband cried when he realized his children could be removed from this obviously unsafe household; the wife protested that they did not have the financial means to correct violations that they knew existed, so they just did nothing. One of their illegal tenants blamed gentrification for seeking housing in an unsafe sub-divided building; she had been, in her description "pushed out" of the housing market in two other California cities, and thought it a reasonable idea to join in the "artistic community" that was renting space form the owner who knew people were living in the space under less than ideal situations. They collectively blamed the local police and fire department for not citing their many violations and shutting them down, thus preventing the horrendous loss of life caused by a fire in a space with inadequate means of egress.  No one called them on the violations; they knew their were problems; they did nothing to correct the problems; people died as a result. Shame on them.

As a society, what have we devolved into here?  No one seems to want to take responsibility for their ill-advised or just plain bad choices.  We have all made bad choices. Some were small ones ( I did so love those brown leather boots I bought years ago, but boy, did they hurt my feet); others are much larger with larger implications: the road not taken; the job turned down; the opportunity missed. But one thing remains constant.  Owning our errors, our mistakes, our foolish choices will only help us to become stronger and more complete people. If one cannot do this, one is permanently stuck in a state of arrested development that will block personal growth into full and responsible personhood. And shame on us all.

The holidays are here! Oh ,NO!

November begins the wild and crazy holiday season in these parts. In my case, it begins on November 10th, the birthday of my second child and segues through my daughter-in-law's thirtieth birthday, the anniversary of my husband's death, what would have been my 43rd wedding anniversary, Advent, Holly Ball, TLC Christmas party, Wagner College Choir Concert, Gay  Men's Chorus Concert,  Christmas Pageant, Radio City and Rockettes, Christmas Eve lunch at Soup Kitchen, then dual Christmas Eve services with steel drummers, children's choir, and ukulele group ( yes, kids and ukes) ,Christmas Day somewhere, eldest child's fortieth birthday on Christmas, two other cousins with birthdays on that say, then Boxing Day, New Year's Eve and Day and finally, Twelfth Night/ Epiphany/Three Kings Day. I think that is the complete list, but you also need to add  Physical Therapy twice a week, gym five days a week, filing papers for the final discretionary funds and reviewing grant opportunities for the upcoming year. And I am in what some call "retirement".

Someone recently emailed asking if I could give them a December date for a phone conference.  I replied, "NO", and I mean it emphatically. For those of us who are ordained folk in any church, this time of year is second only to Easter week.  That, of course, is a the major feast in the Christian tradition, but popular culture has caused this time of year to stretch both religious and secular society to its farthest limits. Too many gifts to wrap, too many invitations to respond to, too many holiday traps to skirt around, too many people to attend to, visit, placate and disappoint in the few short weeks of this manic season, these demands on time and talent can bring each one of us to our own personal breaking point.

And then there are those for whom this time of year brings back bad memories and despair. Folks whose childhood memories of the holidays bring with them personal nightmares that were more real than any of us can fathom. There are others who have lost so many loved ones that they are often the only ones left of their immediate and often extended families. For these folks this is a most difficult time of year.

So, as a community of spiritual support what do we do? And as an individual, what can you do?  I am not quite sure.  I think we, as individuals, need to take time out of every day to sit in some sort of silence and mediate on these things in our hearts. Oh, I could say invite someone who you know is alone to your celebrations; buy or provide gifts for the homeless or those in need, but many of these things are done to "give back" ( don't get me started on that phrase) or to make the giver feel good. This is what those of us in the religious/social service sector call "Toxic Charity".

Last week at the Soup Kitchen where we normally have about 15 volunteers cook and serve lunch we had 35 people show up to prepare and serve lunch. Next week we'll be back to our regular number. These "holiday helpers" come with their own expectations about how they are interacting with those they perceive as the "deserving poor". They often unintentionally "muck up the works" with knee-jerk reactions to our cadre of regular guests who have been known to basically "play them" to game the system. I have had holiday volunteers give money and metro cards to guests; wrap up extra food and dole it out to people they have just met and who have given them a very sad story, and in extreme cases, have had newbies give out their phone numbers to folks they have just met in case they needed any thing else.

Every week we deal with whomever the Lord sends us to feed, no questions asked. What does that mean to those who come once or twice a year to help out? I am not sure; do they even think about the needs of others the rest of the year? This is something I struggle with mightily during this time of year. Prayer helps, but the doubts still rise. February can't come fast enough for me.

Election Blues

Well, boys and girls, it is finally over, finished , done, in the can, one for the books, baked in the cake. And we move on as a nation. I know, I know some of us...many of us, are frustrated at what some may consider the archaic electoral college system that decides how we elect our nation's leader.
It is an indirect system that attempts to give all of our states equal footing when deciding who gets to hold the highest office in the land.  We vote for designated electors who in turn, vote for President.
This was designed to allow those states with smaller populations to have similar political clout as those that have a higher population...a reflection of the old "states rights" feelings of our Founding Fathers...take note of   phrase..."Founding Fathers".

Our country was divided before the election, and to some extent, it remains so at this point.  One candidate received more of the popular vote, but did not receive the needed number of electoral votes to win.  The other won the required number of electoral votes, but lagged behind in the popular vote tally.  The President-elect will take office knowing the majority of the people in his country did not support his candidacy, not an enviable position to be in.

This is only one of a handful of times this has happened.  And this has happened twice in my lifetime.
Many Americans are calling for an end to the electoral college system, but for me that is a discussion and a battle for another day.

Now, I may be saying something here that some may not agree with.  That usually has not stopped me in the past, and I am reluctant to paint any other American citizen as a less stellar person. So, here goes...and I am treading lightly:

This election has exposed a dark underbelly of racism and misogyny that many of us had hoped was out-of-date.  Please do not think I am saying all those who voted for the President-elect are all racists and misogynists; they are not. Many hold respected conservative views and values that are important to the fabric of this nation: hard work, persistence, and a deep love of family and nation...these values are also held by many people who voted for the losing candidate as well. But, as I have said in the past, some boys just don't want any girl to win.

I had hoped I would be able in my lifetime to vote for and elect a woman President, and I did one of those two things. I hope that on today, my daughter's 38th birthday, she and her sister and niece will be able to do both within their lifetimes.

...Keeping the faith

“…I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith”  2Tim 4:7

We are in the season of races. As I write this, the Chicago Cubs have secured another shot at redemption on their road to the World Series.  The Cubbies, as their long suffering fans affectionately call them, have not had an easy time of it throughout their long history. The Cubs were established in 1876 and are the longest playing franchise in its original city. In 1906, the Cubs won a Major League record 116 games, finishing 116–36 and posted a modern-era record winning percentage of .763, before losing the World Series four games to two. The Cubs won back-to-back World Series championships in 1907 and 1908, becoming the first Major League team to play in three consecutive World Series, and the first to win it twice. The team has appeared in a total of ten World Series. The Cubs have not won the World Series in 108 years, and they had not won the National League pennant in 71.  The cause, of course is that famous or infamous “Billy Goat Curse”

 In game four of the 1945 series, the Curse of the Billy Goat as allegedly laid upon the Cubs when Wrigley ejected Billy Sianis, owner of the “Billy Goat Tavern” came with two box seat tickets, one for him and one for his goat.  Wrigley demanded the goat leave the park due to its unpleasant odor. Upon his ejection, Sianis uttered, "The Cubs, they ain't gonna win no more." The Cubs lost game four, lost the series, and have not been back since. That is until yesterday.

While scrolling through my Facebook page earlier this week, I saw a photo of my son holding my 8-month old grand-son on his lap, both decked out in Jets green bemoaning the fact that, even at this early juncture in the football season, they are no longer contenders. But you don’t have to feel sorry for the little guy; his Mom is a rabid Giant’s fan and will quickly break out the blue wardrobe in time for him to be happily bounced on her knee as they switch to the team that is still in the race.

And of course, there is that other race going on…the one we all can agree has definitely gone on far too long.  The one that will mercifully be over by the second week in November. The day cannot come soon enough for me.  We have endured more hours of politician pundits parsing all sorts of campaign speech than we really want to think about as we are being bombarded by debate clips, sound bites from rallies and dinners, and more opinions from talking heads who argue among themselves over who won what and where and why. It will be over soon.

In today’s New Testament Reading we hear the words attributed to the Apostle to the Gentiles, Paul in one of his Pastoral Letters to his students and companion Timothy. Timothy was the child of a Jewish mother and a Gentile father. He was sent by Paul to settle some dispute with the early Church at Corinth. One thing about these letters is evident: we read them in vacuum.  We don’t know what the other half of the correspondence looks like. But they also give us insight into the workings and philosophy of the early believers.

In this letter Paul shares with Timothy his disappointment at being deserted and defenseless in his journey of faith.   His persecution is real, and he is tired. He is sounding frustrated and exhausted. Many of us in this time and place feel the same kinds of frustrations with our own work, and like Paul we need to understand that our work has value. Paul tells us :“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race. I have kept the faith”.  Notice Paul does not claim that he has won either the fight or the race.  He has fought mightily and completed his race. We should all hope for the same thing. Being number one is not in Paul’s sphere. His number one is not the world’s number one.

This past week I received the news that a dear friend had died.  We met when we were in our early twenties. She was a friend of my sister’s who became my friend as well.  She and the guy in her life…later her husband, were two wild and crazy kids. After they were married they were sent to Malawi with his job, and there they found Jesus. Their children and church work became an important part of their lives together.  Once they returned to England…his birthplace, they became lay preachers and were eventually ordained to the priesthood in the Anglican Church.  They shared ministry in a small struggling working class parish in Canley near Coventry where she ran mothers’ groups, teen groups and cooked large and authentic Italian meals for everyone in the neighborhood. He led liturgy and ran Bible study. Together they were a formidable clergy team. About six months ago, she found out she had inoperable cancer, and died surrounded by her family on Thursday morning.

She did not win her fight with cancer, yet she did fight the good fight. She received no prize for running the programs and touching the lives of so many, but she did finish the race.  And I have no doubt that she kept the faith. My hope for all of us today is that we, like Paul and my friend, will preserver and have the grace and faith to do the same.

The Seasons; They Are A-Changing....

I can feel it in the air.  Summer and all that it entails is on the way out, and autumn is about to segue into  the city.

A few weeks ago, I was in Paris with friends and relatives enjoying the last throes of summertime in the city of light.  We visited shops, restaurants, cafes, parks and museums jacket-free and foot-sandled. We took an evening Seine River cruise watching the twinkling Eiffel Tower and the brilliant sunset that accompanied it.   And then...BAM! The last two days of rain and wind came upon us, indicating that even the French are facing the same seasonal changes we were anticipating.

On our return, I could feel the change approaching. The days are getting shorter. The sun's light has a different slant and feel and reflection.  The moon is rising higher and the night sky is changing...different stars and constellations are making their return to the soon to be winter sky. Orion, Ursa Major and Minor, and Cassiopeia are making their annual appearance in the night skies along with the planets Mars, Venus and Jupiter. These twinkling lights make stargazing this time of year a joy, and I often spend evenings just watching the eastern sky as they move across it.

It is always sad when summer leaves the scene. Back in time when I was a student, it meant a return to the classroom and more studying, returning from our summers in the countryside, returning to our urban neighborhood in New York City and getting back into the normal routine. That pattern continued as I taught school: for me the year ended in August and began in September.

But nowadays, as the leaves start to turn orange, red and gold, I think of times past, and the years that have seemed to fly by me. How life is changing all the time, as fast as the summer leaves turn to flame and, once brown and withered, fall to the ground.

This time of year seems to bring out the melancholy that rests easy in my spring and summer soul.  I often think about Marcel Proust and his lengthy literary work "Remembrance of Things Past" ( in French "A la recherché des temps perdu"). This is considered to be one of the defining novels of the twentieth century known for its theme of involuntary memory. These moments of being drawn into a moment of memory triggered by a sound, a sight, a smell or even a sensation often happen this time of year. The sound of the rake scrapping up the fallen leaves; the sight of autumnal colored branches swaying on a blustery day; the smell of apples baking in a cake or pie; the sensation of the autumn wind blowing against your face and messing your hair: these triggers can cause those involuntary memories to rise up and capture you unawares.

And...this is not a bad thing. Some melancholy can be good for the soul as long as we don't sit in it for too long. Luckily for us, winter is never far behind the fall. The season filled with festivities that brings with it the anticipation of things soon to be...new life and hope  And hope does spring eternal.
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One of my favorites:

https://www.bing.com/search?q=autumn+leaves+barbara+striestand&form=EDGEAR&qs=PF&cvid=8fea62527b2947698feb703669c47aa3&pq=autumn+leaves+barbara+striestand

One hymn, two congregations

This past Sunday I got to attend church twice at two very different congregations. One located in a residential section of a New York City outer borough, the other smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan where Broadway and Fifth Avenue cross nestled nicely at the edge of a lovely city park.
One is a housed congregation, the other is in an open space that is subject to the various twists and turns of local weather in the Northeast United States. In one I read the Gospel, introduced the prayers, and dismissed the faithful in my role as deacon of that congregation.  In the other, although I was asked to read the reading from Jeremiah, I got to spend the rest of the time just being part of the congregation...a nice change for me.

Both groups shared prayers for peace and understanding.  Both groups prayed for a member of the congregation celebrating milestones, whether it was a child returning from a trip to visit relatives in Europe, or a member celebrating a milestone birthday. Each group recited the "Lord's Prayer" together, most from memory, and both groups partook of a shared communion of bread and either wine or grape juice. And...both groups got to sing the same rousing hymn at the service.

"God of Grace and God of Glory" was written in 1930 for the dedication of Riverside Church in Manhattan by its then pastor, Harry Emerson Fosdick, ordained Baptist minister and former World War I chaplain.  Fosdick was a strong supporter of the social gospel movement; the hymn was written while the nation, and indeed the world, was in the throws of the Great Depression. The repeated call :"Grant us wisdom; grant us courage..," definitely spoke to the members of his congregation, and soon the hymn, which is now sung to that classic Welsh tune "Cwe Rhodda"...don't ask me to pronounce it...I know it when I hear it...is now widely sung throughout mainline Protestant congregations . It is a real rouser with great high notes for tenors and sopranos to trill about, but baritones and altos...like me...can also join with joyful noise.

But just what are we asking for when we engage in this particular hymn? Well, the answer to that question lies at the end of every stanza: For the facing of these days; for the living of this hour; lest we miss they kingdom's goal; and serving thee whom we adore. Pretty straightforward, and it certainly still speaks to us today.

But in my study of this hymn, I discovered a stanza not in the hymnal:

"Set our feet on lofty places,
Gird our lives that they may be,
Armored with all Christ-like graces,
In the fight to set men free.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage,
That we fail not man nor Thee,
That we fail not man nor Thee."

I will admit that this stanza has some language that as a life long feminist, I find a bit,well, paternalistic, but the sentiment still holds true. In this season of electoral decision, I think we need to remember that our charge is to choose the person most qualified to  lead this nation into a future where our overarching responsibility will be to further the rights and responsibilities of all of those who live, move and have there being in our home nation.

Here is a rendition of the hymn:
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=god+of+garac+eand+god+of+glory...you+tuebe&&view=detail&mid=07CCED045503B9C37E7A07CCED045503B9C37E7A&rvsmid=C8C75E2584C601F4BEC7C8C75E2584C601F4BEC7&fsscr=0&FORM=VDFSRV

Waiting for those who work.....

I am having a walk-in shower installed in my apartment.  It is amazing how many different trades are involved in this task: designers, contractors, plumbers, tillers, glassmakers, and others are all involved in removing the old tub, upgrading the plumbing pipes, installing specialized flooring, laying the "mud" or mortar for the floor tiles, measure and measure again to get the correct measurements for the wall tile..carefully cut each tile to make the corners match and line up evenly. These gentlemen, and I do mean that in all due respect, are indeed master craftsmen whose creations and knowledge of their "trade" enrich our lives.

And the work of these folks, as well as those of carpenters, cabinet makers, stone masons, violin makers, mechanics, welders, ironworkers, and electricians take many years to hone and refine.  These are careers that involve a strong basis in pure mathematics and a knowledge of the sciences like chemistry and physics that need to be mastered in real life situations. My own children will attest to the fact that I have declared many times that all things are either geometry or physics...or a combination of both: baseball, bowling, soccer, tennis, football, hockey; these all have elements of both in their execution. And if we taught math and science with an eye to theses applications, more students would be directly involved in learning these important skills instead of asking, "Why do I have to learn: fill in the blank geometry, algebra, physics, chemistry?" Educators need to show the practical applications in the real world as well as the formulistic equations and graphs that can be applied to the world of work.

During my tenure as an Intermediate School Teacher, I was exposed to the work of the Salvadori Institute that was connected with the architecture department at City College of New York.  They taught the application of pure mathematics and physics in the built environment. Inspired by my summer fellowship with them, one, by the way, I was told by a supervisor I was NOT eligible to take because I was a social studies teacher, I introduced a unit on the bridges of New York and challenged my students to learn the history of NYC bridges and create models of them.  It was an exciting unit, and one I did at the end of the school year after the regular curriculum was finished. It was a huge success, and wound up being a real feather in the cap of our school.  Some of my students, not just the "honor" kids, had their creations exhibited at the Institute's fundraising event that year. I also got to take a class to CCNY to meet other students from other NYC schools who shared their work and vision for a new re-creation of the site of the recently destroyed World Trade Center.

What was important to me at the time was that my students, most of them students of color, had never been on a college campus, nor had they seen the diversity of our city university colleges up close. And even though I was NOT their math or science teacher, the students were able to see that math, angles, density of materials, force, gravity, and other mathematical and scientific facts they had studied actually had real life implications.  lesson all of our students should be exposed to in this age. 

Manufacturing jobs are NOT coming back to the United States...get over it. But, there will be a demand for people with trade skills, mathematical understanding and scientific thinking who will be building our future.  Let us bring back real vocational/technical education in high school or post high school to make sure we continue to have the next generation of skilled craftsmen and women to lead us on. And let us make sure all of our students have the opportunity to be exposed to the possibility of doing this important work.

Biding the time through November...

I don't know about you, but I am so very done with presidential politics. I don't want to have any more conversations with friends, family, neighbors or aquaintances debating the merits or demerits of the various and sundry folk who are currently running for elected offices in our nation.  I instead intend to make some personal space and time for knitting, reading, praying, meditating, swimming, and eating watermelon.

Knitting is a skill I learned in grade school, my best friend at Nativity School, Dorothy Jane Zilkowski, and I would knit together. I learned to knit watching my mother who, although she was right-handed, knitted left-handed because she was taught by a left-handed friend. I learned the basics from Mom, but Dorothy taught me the nuances of creating patterns with differing stitches.  I began by following patterns, and later on began to create patterns of my own relying on the algebraic equation mantra that one side of the equation must equal the other side  I create Irish knit scarves making up patterns based on seed stitches, simple cables and bobbles.  They are obviously not the traditional patterns, but my own creations.  Currently I am working on a shawl that has about six inches to completion and am already thinking aobut the next project.

Reading, done well, needs continued honing.  When I was a student, I was required to read many academic texts since I majored in History and later became a teacher.  Teachers have to do lots of reading to keep up with new developments in the profession.  When I got my second Master's in Theology/Church History, I got to do quite a bit of reading original documents for my research and thesis. But now my reading is more for pleasure.  I tend to read mysteries while traveling and non-fiction if I need to sharpen the grey matter. Unfortunately, reading local newspapers has lost its charm, and I now cherry-pick my daily diet of NewYork Times, The Daily News and Staten Island Advance articles. Crossword puzzles are still personal favorites,but that is another story for another day.

Praying is a daily discipline, although I have to admit, sometimes I let prayer time slip aside for other events that I might think are more pressing.  This is not a good thing, setting aside some time every day to do this is a personal challenge and goal.  In the Christian tradition, similar to both Judaism and Islam, various daily prayer times are  carved out: Matins, Noon Prayer, Evening Prayer and Compline ( also known as Vespers) traditionally frame the prayer lives of those in Christian monastic communities and provide a structure for personal devotion.  My personal goal is to intergrate Morning Paryer and Compline into my life.

Meditation techniques were introduced to me by the Rev. Claire MacPherson at General Seminary. I have tried several types over the  years and have settled on a modified  Buddhist meditative practice involving controlled breathing and focusing.  I have actually used these techniques with unruly classes and nervous teacher/candidates with excellent results.  I find this practice is also handy when I am forced by events I have little or no control over such as standing in long lines at stores, banks or international customs.

Swimming is a summer time indulgence that just gets better and better.  I live quite close to a city municipal pool that opens for special senior water aerobics early in the morning.  The class allows me to get in some quality exercise and swim time four times a week throughout the summer months.  I miss it tremendously once the pool shuts down in September.

Watermelon??  What can I say???...the proverbial summer fruit/food.  I don't think I have ever met anyone who dislikes watermelon, and sharing it is one way to bring a smile to the faces of anyone who is given a piece.  I do like the newer varieties that are virtually seedless.

So, I am trying to occupy my mind with sunny summer distractions so I don't have to think too much about the craziness of our American election madness.  I just wish I was more successful at filtering it all out.

Hot Time, Summer in the City...

Lyon's Pool SI,NY

We are well into the summer here in the northeast and especially here in New York City. Many of the natives will be heading out of town to the mountains and lakes of the Adirondacks or the beach communities of the nearby Jersey Shore or  Long Island.  But here I am...staying in town for another summer, and loving it!

Across New York City there are municipal pools.  Some are indoor, others are outside and only open during the mummer months.  This year the pools are opened until September 2nd. The three on Staten Island, where I live, are often underutilized.  I live around the corner from Lyons Pool and Recreational Center.  In Fall, Winter and Spring, I use the cardio-room and its treadmill at lest three times a week. In the summer I go to the early water aerobics class Monday through Thursday.  It is a forty-five minute workout.  There are also swimming classes for children and adults plus lap swimming in the morning and evening. One of my favorite things about living here is sitting on the roof deck listening to the children enjoying their time at the pool.

Jacob Riis Park

And lest we forget, New York is a city based on islands on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean; there are numerous beaches in four of the five boroughs: Queens, Brooklyn, Staten Island and the Bronx have more than their fair share of lovely beaches which are free to the public. From Midland Beach on Staten Island to the beautiful shore of Jacob Riis Park in Queens, Coney Island in Brooklyn and Orchard Beach in the Bronx, these beaches can be reached by subway, bus or car and offer cooling sea breezes to any resident who has a bathing suit, beach towel, an umbrella and a Metro-Card in hand. Bring along a cooler with a few sandwiches and cold drinks (non-alcoholic only permitted), and you can spend a day at rest "by the beautiful sea."

Another New York institution is free "Shakespeare in the Park" offered every summer by the Public Theater.  I recall watching Raul Julia and Meryl Streep early in their careers in "The Taming of the Shrew", a great production of "As You Like It", and others over the course of living here.  Nowadays, I do not want to wait on long lines for the tickets, but now the Public distributes free tickets in the boroughs. And here is a hint, if you can get to Staten Island, the ticket availability here is very good.

Bethesda Fountain

If beaches and pools are not your cup of tea, there are always time to take a stroll on a tree lined path in one of the city's many parks.  Each borough has one or more large ones that often have ponds, streams and other water features.  On my home county of Richmond you will find the lovely Clove Lakes Park that includes, as its name implies, lakes that offer boating and fishing...mostly catch and release. In Brooklyn the amazing Prospect Park is a green haven of serenity and peace.  Central Park in Manhattan is chocked full of ball fields, walking paths, lakes, and the lovely Bethesda Fountain where I hung out as an undergraduate at Hunter College. Fresh Meadows in Queens is another one of the parks where city residents can relax and contemplate nature at its best.

If it either rains or gets too hot to stay outside, there are several local museums that are both free and air conditioned! These include the National Museum of the American Indian, a branch of the Smithsonian Institute which is located at Bowling Green near the SI Ferry. The American Folk Art Museum near Lincoln Center is also free and houses a great collection of Amish quilts.  Other free museums include The Bronx Museum of the Arts, the Harbor Defense Museum at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn, The Hispanic Society of America and the New York Public Library building at 42nd Street and Fifth Avenue.  Oh, by the way, all public libraries have free public bathrooms as well.

And remember, the ultimate free New York experience is riding the Staten Island Ferry. Just be careful that you don't fall for one of the Statue of Liberty/harbor tour ticket hawkers.  The SI Ferry is free, round trip takes about an hour ( you have to get off in SI, walk around to the waiting area to get the boat back, or you can walk along Bay Street to Pier 76 and get a great pizza for less than it would cost in Manhattan), and you can take all the photos of the harbor and statue that you want.  Just, please, let us natives sit  on the Brooklyn side in peace to read our paper. If you want to impress your significant other, take her/him on the ferry leaving at sunset and sit at the back.

Staten Island Ferry

So, there you go, boys and girls...lots to do here if you decide that a staycation is for you this summer.  Just remember, we have to share our city with tourists. We depend on them to bolster our economy...smile and keep walking.

Tell them right now.

A few weeks ago, I was informed that a friend from my past had died, and a memorial service was to be held at one of my former parishes. For several years we had been good friends.  She came over for holiday dinners, went to baseball games with the hubby and kids; took care of the dog when we went on vacation, and drew up our will...she was a lawyer.
As things sometimes happen, we wound up on opposite sides of a rather sticky situation.  We met to talk it out. She presented me with a ultimatum, a caveat, a requirement that she decided  I had to meet in order for our friendship to continue. This caveat was dependent on my relationship with a third party, one she felt she had to protect. I said I would not, and could not do what she insisted I had to do in order to remain in any kind of fellowship. She informed me that our friendship was over and walked out. She chose to sacrifice our friendship for the support of others she felt beholden to.  We never spoke again.
At her funeral, I felt some pangs of guilt, but realized that we all make our choices in life, and sometimes we are not the focal point in the lives of others. People come into and out of our lives.  They do things we like; they do things we hate.  Sometimes we understand why they do what they do, and other times we just don't get it.

This afternoon I attended a memorial service for the son of a parishioner who had committed suicide. This was a man in the prime of his life...44 years old who was trying to reconnect with his son and his son's mother.  His family, especially his father and brother, finally recognized that he was suffering from depression and had attempted to get him some real assistance in dealing with his personal demons.

I had met this man when his Mom died and he arranged her funeral. He was charming and confident.  He handled every detail and was a remarkable presence at her funeral service. He was the rock for the rest of the family.  What happened?

Because of things beyond his control he later felt that he was not living up to his potential; that he could have done things better. His depression made it impossible for him to see that he was loved, honored and respected by many folk who knew him.  The darkness had consumed him so very much that he could not see the brightness he had bought to the lives of family and friends who truly loved and cared for him. Depression is a terrible thing.  I have seen its effects on many friends, acquaintances and family members. The heartache it brings is all consuming.So many people at the memorial service spoke about how his mere presence in their lives made them better people. He should have heard that; I think it would have made a difference in his life.

Wonder what the lesson is here? Don't cut off your nose despite your face.  Don't put restrictions and caveats on friendship.  You will lose in the end.  And, just as important, let those you love and respect know how much you value their presence in your life.

Musing while waiting

Sitting in an airport lounge with a long wait between flights gives one the chance to sit back, nap(if you can), take a mental break from the daily routine, and do so much needed reflection.
The past few weeks have brought changes to the lives of several family members,as well as for me personally. After fifteen years of working in the certification unit of the Department of education after school and during the summer, I have fully retired. A meniscus issue has made trudging up and down subway steps uncomfortable at the very least and unfailingly painful at its most difficult. It was not a difficult decision in the long run because for the past two years the earnings from this part-time job put me in a higher tax bracket and my tax guy, Dave, made me solemnly promise that I would leave the job once my contractual obligation was up. It was a good ride and I met great people who worked for one of the largest bureaucracies on earth. And you know what? They were caring professionals who became concerned about the employees they worked with and for. I will miss them.

Additionally, I am cycling off a national board that I served for six years. With the work of a co-chair and design team, we put together an international meeting of religious leaders in Minnesota, no mean feat when you realize I live in New York and my partner in this endeavor lives in Baltimore. We did it mostly by phone,email and limited face-to-face encounters.

Unfortunately, another change was the result of a family tragedy. A young adult member of our family tragically suffered an accidental death. Although this was a devastating event, the consolation was a drawing close of family members from near and far encircling his parents an billings with affection and a quiet strength that I hope will sustain time through the difficult days they will face in the months to come. We know that the grif and loss will not disappear over time. They will scab and callous over, only to be reopened at unexpected moments. The world has changed for them and for us, but time still moves on....Weddings will happen; babies will be born, and new people will come into our lives who will not remember him, but still we will. And we will wish he could be with us to share these new moments.

I am currently reading a book called "The Lost" . It is a memoir written by the grandson of Holocaust survivors who searched to piece together the lives of six relatives who perished in the war in Eastern Europe. In one part his brother who is traveling with him on this quest to speak to those who knew his uncle, aunt and four cousins, says that the Their deaths are never final because there is always a void, a hole or bear spot on the family tree left there by their untimely exit from this life. And I think that is what happens to families who lose members unexpectedly. What family hasn't?

What is constant in this transitory life is that change is inevitable; sometimes we control it,but any times we do not. Change can be painful, but having an anchored spiritual base can help us endure those changes that causes pain, and accept those that bring new opportunities.


I wrote this two weeks ago before my recent trip to the Fjords of Norway.  More on that later.



Sent from my iPad

Connecting and re-connecting in the Electronic age.

In my very early childhood, my family was one of the first in our Bronx apartment building to have a black and white television set. It stood about three and a half feet tall, or at least it seemed to.  the screen was 15 inches wide and ten inches high.  It was a real novelty and I can remember many neighbors stopping by to watch shows on it.  One evening in particular stood out in a striking way.  It was a live feed from the California coast and it showed the Pacific Ocean crashing against a rocky outcropping. My Grandmother who lived with us who was born in 1886 kept repeating over and over again, " I can't believe I am finally seeing the other ocean." ( We lived in New York City, so going to the beach on the Atlantic Ocean was always a summertime event.)    

Years later when we moved into our house in Brooklyn, that same Grandmother was dumbstruck as she watched a man walk on the moon in real time. "I never thought I would see that", she said over and over again. She had lived through a lot in her years: World War I, Spanish Influenza Epidemic, Great Depression, World War II, election and later assassination of John Kennedy, the first Roman Catholic president,  Vietnam War, Watergate, Nixon's resignation...lots of stuff, yet these two events truly struck her with awe and wonder.
So, I wondered, what events in my lifetime have caused me to stop and wondered about the awesomeness of it all. There certainly are many things to choose from that have come along from the mid twentieth century into the early twenty-first. Pac-Man, desk top computers, tape decks, VCR's, and palm pilots, these all seemed to be long lived necessary inventions, but alas, they were all replaced by more and more efficient and , in most cases, smaller silenter and sleeker replacements, many of which were themselves were replaced in their turn.


So, I have wracked my brain for sometime now and have decided on two that have had an enduring effect on my life: the internet and unlocking the genetic code of DNA for a very related reason: connections and reconnections.

Through the internet, I have been able to reconnect with old friends and family embers not only across the country, but across continents. Friends who are living in England, South Africa and other far-flung countries are easily within reach on any kinds of social media.  We see photos of children and grandchildren, we get to share vacations, holidays and special family events that we are unable to attend in person. Friends and relatives on the west coast respond to notes from other friends across the Atlantic in Europe and beyond. We can follow the politician machinations of nations around the world with a simple click of the cursor.  This can be, as many will attest, both fascinating and frustrating...think about the current situation here in the US surrounding the presidential races.
The internet has made it possible for me to connect with paternal cousins in places as far as Ireland and as close as the Bronx.                                                                

The other development has to be breaking the DNA code.  This has lead to many marvelous medical miracles.  In my own family it made it possible to decode the gene known as Brac-1 which is a marker for cancer. Now, my paternal familial line provides a very cancer-ridden gene pool in which we swim. My paternal grandmother, tow paternal aunts, and one paternal cousin succumbed to breast cancer or its complications. Two of my sisters are breast cancer survivors, sue to the miracle of genetic testing.

Now, I challenge you to think about what are the two or three inventions/movements/research that have changed your life as well.  Just email me, I am interested in seeing what others think.

Strange bedfellows...well, just strange everything.

       

I have been trying, really trying, to stay above the political fray, that "sturm und drang"  which has become the stage setting for the primary races in this country.  Up until very recently, I have been able to avoid any involvement in the political process as it has been evolving around these parts.  I embraced my inner creative spirit and began watching a host of crafting and cooking shows on the local Public Television outlet.  I watched as Jacques whipped egg whites into soufflés, Rich gave professional plumbing advice to homeowners, and Rick guided us all over Europe telling us the best things to pack and how to buy a good loaf of bread in Paris, but politics finally caught up with me once the New York Primary came into view.
Feeling a bit guilty that I had not gotten at all involved with the political process, I made a modest donation to a favored candidate (Note: I am not saying which one. Nor will I tell you if you ask me.)
I then volunteered to do some phone calling, mostly because it gave me something to do; I got to see a few friends, and I knew the person running the phone bank needed some help during the day hours. I should have thought again about doing both.  I then began to appear on the political radar.
Suddenly I was on every A-list for fundraising and political action.  I began getting conflicting robo-calls from both major parties and for more candidates than I ever wanted to consider for dog catcher, let alone President of the United States. My name suddenly appeared on the mailing lists of everyone; the vitriol with which this literature is filled is an embarrassment the candidates and their handlers and insult to the intelligence of the American public.

In an attempt to understand what is really gong on in this whole process, I decided to collect my own "data" to help me make meaning out of all the gobbledygook that we have been asked to wade through. So over the past two days I watched six hours of "news" using ten stations: 3 major networks, 6 cable channels and the Public Broadcasting System.  I just "sampled" each watching the station for five to ten minutes noting the gender of the broadcasters, and how many times they mentioned each of the four major candidates. ( Sorry John Kasich, you did not make the cut.) My completely unscientific observations on the numbers are very telling:
Over the six hours I watched the news fifty men and thirty-seven women presented some form of what the networks consider to be "news". During that time Donald Trump was mentioned twenty-three times; Raphael Edward "Ted" Cruz was  mentioned seventeen times, and Sanders and Clinton tied at eight times each.

I also made some observations of my own: 
          1. Donald Trump uses his hands to distraction when he speaks; he also needs help with staying on point.  Perhaps we could find a high school debate coach to work with him...and a foreign policy specialist.
          2. Several powerful Republicans do not really like Ted Cruz, but his law professor liked him because he raised his hand quite a bit and had lots to say. It also seems his fellow law students did not like him either.  Teacher's Pet Syndrome?
          3. Bernie Sanders wife is one of his most trusted advisors who actually seems like a nice person.  Bernie still sounds like he left Brooklyn yesterday, and that's okay by me.  I lived there for seventeen years.
  4. Clinton will have to re-live some very unpleasant memories from her husband's presidency. Should she be held responsible for his bad choices? 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Beginning last week, our Sunday Bible Study Group started their study of the Book of Acts, my favorite book in the Second Testament.  It was the first Biblical book I ever studied, and, as a history teacher, I really appreciated its flow as the writer described the history of how the Early Church grew and spread to include all kinds of people across the ancient world. Its sequencing was something I immediately understood, since that is the way I understood history as occurring, but Acts is more than the simple listing of events in the early church, it tells the stories of how different people came to know and understand the work of the risen Christ, our Lord and Savior.

The Book of Acts is an interesting piece of biblical writing.  It is the second half of the Gospel of Luke. It describes the spreading of the Church throughout the ancient world, beyond Israel encompassing many different peoples. It was intended to be read to a Greek speaking audience, a sort of sophisticated, well-educated group, telling the story of the establishment of the Church and its growth across the Mediterranean world. Acts has two major forces: the geographic shift from Jerusalem to Rome and the somewhat contentious juxtaposition of Peter and Paul.  Peter representing the traditional view of the Messiah, and Paul’s more global view of Christ’s message to the wider world.

In today’s reading from Acts, we know that Peter is in Joppa, a port city on the Mediterranean.  Joppa was the place where the cedars of Lebanon were delivered to King Solomon and important in the story of Jonah. It is the port from which he departs on his ill-fated journey that ends up with an encounter with a rather large sea creature…you may recall how that ends for him. Joppa is now part of the old quarter of Tel Aviv, a major city in Israel, more worldly and secular that Jerusalem…a bit more hip and modern.

In our reading Peter prays for Tabitha, a believer who has recently died.  It is reminiscent of Jesus’s encounter with Lazarus and Jarius’ daughter. In both of those instances, at Jesus’ command the dead rose again.  But what can this brief description and description of Tabitha/Dorcas tell us about her importance to the early church?

We know that she was a charitable woman; the widows were mourning her passing. Since she was able to help those in need, we can assume she was rather well off. She must have had some sort of prominence in the community since Peter came from another town, Lydda, at the behest of the community of believers at Joppa. We can assume she offered hospitality to the women to whom she ministered, for they made it clear to Peter that he needed to come…right away.

Hospitality was very much a signpost of the early Church.  There were no Hiltons, Marriots or Ramadas…heck, there were no Motel Six’s.  Travelers really did depend …” on the kindness of strangers”, as Tennessee Williams would have put it. People depended on likeminded people to help them find food and shelter.

And the early Christian communities were pretty tight.  Most groups met in private homes to talk about experiences, reflect on their lives and eat together remembering the meal the disciples and Jesus shared the night before he died.

Last Sunday you might have noticed that I was not here. I attended a unique Sunday service at a unique Church in Brooklyn…a block away from the Gowanas Canal. St Lydia’s is a mission of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America with support form the NY Lutheran Synod and the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island.  Sunday and Monday they have a Supper Church service very much like what Tabitha/Dorcas would have known and been comfortable in attending.  The gathered group brings ingredients and flowers for the meal, prepares and cooks dinner, sets the table and shares prayers, a homily and a Eucharist…then dinner is eaten and all hands clean up and go into the world in peace. 

But on the second Sunday, different things happen.  That is Waffle Church - a time for families with children to come together in the mid-morning to do some art that includes glue and glitter, guitar strings and singing, floor rugs and fooling around, and more fun than you can imagine. Grown-ups make waffles, peel fruit, pour juice, sing silly songs, and enjoy time with the kinder as they learn about faith and community. Kid friendly homilies intertwined with easily remembered songs are intertwined together to create a worship space that is comfortable and welcoming.

So, what can we learn from the experiences of Tabitha, the folks at Waffle Church and our gathered community at Christ Church? Well, I am not sure.  Perhaps we need to be open to the work of the Spirit among us, to be open to new ideas, to new ways of “doing church”, to preserve and honor those things that work for us, that help us in our spiritual journey, and to incorporate both and to keep what is central and holy in what we do.

...For all the saints

As we are fast approaching the most sacred time on the Christian calendar, I am trying to carve out some time to ponder over the past year and the changes it has brought to my life thinking in particular about those companions in mission that I have lost  along the way. It has been a year of loss both personal and congregationally for me and the folks at the parish to which I am assigned here on Staten Island. Friends, fellow clergy members, parishoners, and local folk active in our extended faith community,  have crossed over into the veil.  

Some families have lost a parent at too young an age; another lost both a sibling and a parent in the same year.  Another family lost an adult son in a freak car accident in which he was killed while sitting on a bench waiting for a bus. A patriarch for an extended family lost a heroic battle with debilitating illness and organ transplant. Our parish choir has lost four members in the last year alone. 

Two of my closest spiritual guides have died this year.  One, at a much too young age, the other after an illness left untreated for too long that resulted in a prolonged and difficult death.

And yet, life does move on in the continuum of time and space.  We grieve, and the grief does not leave us.  It scabs over and then falls off leaving a mark that we will carry with us for the rest of our natural life.  Memories become less painful, and we can often laugh at past events shared with our dearly departed ones, that seemed impossible to do in the immediate time surrounding their deaths.

And the year moves on and new  life enters into it. 

Even though the past year brought with it times of deep sorrow and despair, New light and life has seeped into it as well.  Several cousins welcomed new babies into their lives adding another grandchild, or experiencing one for the very first time. A niece gave birth to my brother's first grandchild, a daughter...sort of following a pattern for him: four sisters, two daughters and now a beauty of a grandchild. My daughter-in-law gave us a new grandchild, nephew and cousin that has given my "baby" one of his own. 

And the circle of life continues to roll and roll and roll. We ride it for a time here, and later in eternity.  It is a mysterious, event-filled and scary ride...but not one any of us would change.

This Sunday, those of us who worship in the Western Christian tradition will affirm our belief in the eternity of our lives as we celebrate again the ancient Easter liturgy and greet each other with the words: "Alleluia, Christ is Risen!", holding fast to the belief that those words so true to the apostles and disciples of old, are just as true for us today.

"The Lord is risen, indeed. Alleluia!"

Cuba and spirituality

For many Cubans born after The Revolution, religious spirituality and Cuban culture are emphatically oxymoronic. Christianity in general, and Roman Catholicism in particular were parts of the social and national life that were supposedly erased away by Fidel and his followers.  And on the surface and in conversation with those born post 1960, this is true.  On a recent trip to Cuba I met two young tour guides who informed me that Christmas celebration were again allowed after the visit of Pope John Paul, but only old people actually celebrated it.  The young much preferred celebrating the New Year. We were permitted to visit the Cathedral in Havana, but when I asked who was it dedicated to, neither of my guides could answer me repeating over and over again that it was just "The Cathedral".

We were informed that if religion among the Cuban population could be broken down into groups, the largest number would be Christian, the second group would be followers of Santeria, and the lowest percentage would be Jews.

Walking around in various towns and neighborhoods in Cuba reveals a religious heritage that has not been eradicated by 60 years of Socialist presence.  From the names of the streets and plazas to the not so secret street shrines and lovingly maintained personal religious items of the people, spirituality has been alive, perhaps sub-rosa, but still there in Cuba all these years.

It is easy to identify followers of Santeria on the streets of Havana, Santa Clara, Trinidad or Cienfuegos, the towns we visited.  Many of them are attired completely in white, a sign of their initiation into this religious melding of Catholicism and traditional African worship.

Grand Synagogue

Most of the Jews who live in Cuba reside in the metropolitan area of Havana and attend one of two synagogues: one is the conservative and the other is an orthodox Sephardic congregation. The conservative congregation worships in a mid-century modern building near the Malecon, the wide shore-hugging promenade that holds Havana away from the wild Caribbean Sea. The Sephardic Hebrew Center of Cuba building is in downtown Havana.

La Virgen de Caritas

The squares of Old Havana include San Francisco and Cathedral squares. There is a newly renamed street in honor of Mother Teresa, and a new Greek Orthodox Church has just opened near the Malecon. We passed Baptist, Methodist and Roman Catholic churches that are open and functioning.

La Virgen

Several of these hidden in plain sight symbols are the various street shrines, private statues and altar pieces dedicated to La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre.  You can see her in churches, on windowsills, in posters, on tiled walls in private homes, in organic street motifs. She is the patroness of Cuba with a long history and many devoted followers both Christian and Santerian. Her presence has been important to them, and her image is important even to many who profess that they have no religious faith.  And she has an interesting and decidedly Cuban story.

Tradition holds that in 1612 two Native American brothers and an African slave set out to collect ocean water to make salt. They are called "the three Juans". They made the salt for preserving meat at  El Cobre. While at sea, a storm arose, rocking their  boat. One of them was wearing a medal with the image of the Virgin Mary, and they began to pray for her protection. Suddenly, the storm was gone. In the distance was an  object floating in the water.  It was a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the child Jesus and a cross. The statue was fastened to a board with an inscription saying "Yo Soy la Virgen de la Caridad" or "I am the Virgin of Charity." Dispite being in the salt water, the statue remained completely dry. This image was enshrined in several places, until it finally rested at El Cobre, a copper mining town, and the place where the first groups of enslaved people were freed in 1801.

So, in reality, the Virgin of Charity of Cobra has been around far longer than Fidel and his crew.  Her image can be seen in the streets of Havana, in the gardens of Santa Clara, in the small apartments of retirees, and in the studio of one of Cuban's most celebrated artists. She has been a symbol of hope for the faithful of Cuba for over 400 years; that is a heck of a lot longer than Fidel's measly 60.

Impressions of Cuba: La Perla del Caribe

I just returned from an eight day trip to Cuba.  I know what you are thinking: How did she go to Cuba?  Aren't American Citizens forbidden to visit Cuba?  The answer is complicated.  "Est complicado" is an expression one hears all over Cuba, and we were all over Cuba in those eight days. Individual American will find it difficult to book a flight to Cuba unless they opt to first fly to Canada, Mexico or the Azores and then to Cuba. You can then go to one of the few resort hotels Cuba has developed to entice residents of northern climes to spend some time at the beautiful beaches at the all-inclusive resorts on the west and south coasts of the island. The folks who go there do not really interact with the locals. Oh, they may speak to their waiter or house maid about the island, or use the occasional taxi driver to get back and forth to a close by paladar...a privately owned restaurant, but that is about as close as they come to interacting with the Cuban people. My trip was a bit different.

It was advertised as a "People to People" event, and we did meet quite a lot of the locals and visited art schools, senior centers, a Boys and Girls Club, attended a Baroque music concert and listened to a chamber music presentation of traditional and modern Cuban music. We went to the Che Guevera Memorial, Ernest Hemingway's house, an old Franciscan Monastery, and Havana's Cathedral.  We went to artists' residences and saw their outrageous work, and spent time in a market where you could buy "Cuba" baseball caps and Che refrigerator magnets.  

Here are some quick observations:
1. The Cuban People love to talk to foreigners, and have opinions about how things should be in Cuba. Many have only learned the "party line".  Be polite and listen to them.  They just want to make you understand their way of life.
2. The infrastructure is horrible.  The roads are rough, and the railroad is unreliable.
3. There are NO beaches in Havana.
4. Che Guvera's grandmother was a Lynch.  She was Irish.
5. The population of Cuba is approximately 11 million.  There are over 11 million people living in the NYC metropolitan tri-state area of NY, NJ and CT.
6. There are 30,000 cars registered in Cuba. They are considered to be a UNESCO Historic treasure and cannot be shipped out of Cuba.
7. The chief source of protein in Cuba is the pig...pork is king.
8. Fishing out in the Caribbean Sea is discouraged.  The Cuban Government does not want anyone to have access to a good fishing boat that might make the 90 mile trip to Key West.
9. Any economic problem is the fault of the "embargo", and thus the United States, but they are gracious to Americans who have dollars to spend.
10.  Bring your own toilet paper, tissues and hand sanitizer.  You will need them.  Several restaurants had brand-spanking new toilets, but no seats....get over yourself: this is Cuba.


Despite the problems, I am glad I went to Cuba.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWlndyXffdE