8 august 2003 friday
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Swirling round in my head today, the last day I will be age 30: these suddenly interesting times of California politics, throwing the normal Way Things Work up high in the air; the confirmation of the first openly gay Episcopal bishop and all the brouhaha that looks to ensue within the worldwide Anglican community; the Bush administration's willingness to be arrogant with the rest of the world; the attitude of so many in the Catholic hierarchy that protecting the hierarchy comes before protecting the parishioners; the ancient drive of those who wish power to create hierarchies for themselves to climb, even within systems in which all people are supposed to be free and equal (republican/democratic/socialist/communist governments, labor unions, many religions); the eventual destruction of all such hierarchies, either by slow erosion or quick fire, depending on the cultures of the hierarchy and its society. I'm having one of those days where I feel like if my mind could just stretch a bit more, I could understand how it all works, how all the people push and pull each other, where it will all go. On top of all this, I found the story of the Real Live Preacher, whose passionate post on the subject of homosexuality and reasoned explanation of why the Bible cannot be used to condemn homosexuality were linked to by Kip Manley in his post of yesterday. "Real Live Preacher" is talking to me, too, with my sometimes fashionable clothes and my books and toys and my-car-that-i-love, though I have not called myself a Christian for some time (not that I have been able to bring myself to adjust my mother's or grandmother's assumptions on this point). Most of it was because I am a "natural born skeptic," but some of it was because I did not wish to share any space with some of the people who are most vociferous about calling themselves Christians in the modern USA. This Preacher, this preacher, he seems like a brother (or at least cousin) of Saint Francis; if I were to go again to any church, I could go to his.
copyright 2003 carrie lynn king.
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