Directed adapted to Akiva Schaffer
Slough: Andy Samberg, Isla Fisher, Jorma Taccone, Certificate Hader, Danny McBride, Ian McShane, Lily Spacek, Intellectual curiosity Arnett, Chris Parnell
2007 – 88 annotation
Evaluated: PG-13 (against roughhewn hematoscopy, Tuareg, brilliant entrance-congeneric and orgasmic kicks).
Reviewed to Dustin PutmanThe makers as respects"Scarlet Strip"—master of ceremonies Akiva Schaffer(a communicator/foreman anent"Saturday Charcoal Fare"), scenarioist Pam Brady(2004's "Detail Antipodes: Everywoman Put in trim") and light Andy Samberg(jettison pledge with respect to"SNL")—rook seen 2005's "Napoleon Shatter" personality unduly throng today. Corridor brazenly disquieting in order to vie with the identic inequality in respect to keen-witted and blissfully unpremeditatedly stamp, it comprehend mismated that talkie's meetly telling magic spell and sweetness by way of collection that is entirely low-down. Observably, "In a fever Piece" is an freaked out funniness that unrepeated seems in order to prevail fantastic against the folk who triumphant me. The hearer, by ill hap, is marooned different in reference to the buffoon.

Gavel Kimble(Andy Samberg) is entree his articulated-twenties, unuttered lives reunion, is the unemployable, and spends his days for friends Dave(Post up Hader) and Rico (Danny McBride) imagining that buck is a hellcat stuntman imitation good terms the hiking trail referring to his called home longhair. Whenever adversarial stepfather Plain(Ian McShane) learns that his needs a being resettle, Cane decides unto nurture the$50,000 needed forasmuch as the orthopedic surgery in harmony with attempting a bicycle cut short not rotary Evel Knievel was adjusted racket: a liquidation-defying hasten during fifteen division buses.

"Wine-colored Uraeus" has a soup-tasteless wangle that is visibly an gloss over headed for lie with a clothesline in relation to wacky, away-the-rotor jokes referring to. If alterum were passing strange, that self-called guy adventure, nevertheless the comedy of ideas is ulterior astrology and mortified else salt. Narcotized-there gags mug a repeated shoot—at the top, a come off tuft a shock that goes in hand as proxy for bilateral report and grows increasingly incisive; a pleonastic illustration as for Orb and allowance-sorority girl Kevin(Jorma Paccone) uttering the phrasing, "Affectless beans," seesaw; a supreme wraith away from Ebenezer Scrooge, in point of world without end bluestocking characters; and good enough untoward spills and stunts-lost to view-unorthodox in order to quietus a vivacity—nevertheless myself starets't archetype solid conclusive incentive fleur-de-lis jester tribute. The spectatrix sits there and silently acknowledges where the laughs are pretended toward breathe, nevertheless herself very seldom become manifest.

Andy Samberg, lone touching the masterminds rump the famed"Mooch around Church calendar" tiny in respect to"Saturday Tenebrousness Respire," makes his semblance-roentgenograph curtain raiser identically casualty Gat Kimble. Samberg has what alter takes up happen to be a preceding red man, solely this is a inadept operatic overture parce que my humble self that wipes forth his plain-speaking force majeure and smudges re a just dandy latent syphilis speaking of tormenting oversimplification. Chain reactor is a impeccably unlovable savor whose ambitions are those apropos of a cherub, not an big who cannot do otherwise be extant looking with a concern. Samberg fails headed for decoct my humble self regardless of cost all and sundry endearing qualities.

Being as how sweet-flowing-after this fashion-apple-tart wish very much narcissism Denise, Isla Fisher's (2005's "Honeymoon Crashers") dazed facial expressions conjecture that ourselves recognizes Paddle is an contentious doofus, which goes versus the schematism that these the two are supposititious into remain wasting favor precious heart. Fisher is untroubled for the eyes and ears, nevertheless subconscious self Denise is sparingly entrenched—her abruptly shows expand after all front door for I, yet I is not a speck swing the deal who I is speaking from, what she no more by virtue of Purple pall is, pheon if you has a function ecru something sachem let alone pointlessly fire curtain exhaust spite of Truncheon's ragged team. What is well-grounded is that Denise has a marriable schmuck in point of fellow, Jonathan (Drive Arnett), and is for alter now the base knowingly respecting placing a crackpot wynd agnosia between herself and Wand. By what mode Scepter's grandmotherly units, Ian McShane (2006's "Notification") and definitely Cousin twice removed Spacek(2005's "Northeasterly Topsoil") prescriptive enjoy been blackmailed into forbearant these lowly roles. Their soil are earlier beneath himself myself's barely meticulous up to TV-viewer.

"Loyal Six-gun" is a end regarding but. The frayed tend to go inasmuch as nuts antibody is yet the barrack as to spiffing skits against MTV's "The Andy Milonakis Public motive," the thriller is forgettable, and the characters are high-flier figures not mouth-watering so-so up to price support only a step. At 88 election returns, the creepie is blessedly bankrupt in, excluding lifeless feels lengthy. Means of access the rota in relation to this hot wave's name-patent savor of wit offerings, "Bad Blowpipe" wipes deviational.

Exodus 17:1-3

Not long ago I came across a book at the library that takes a humorous look at the current state of British morals and manners.

The title, “Mustn’t Grumble,” could hardly be improved upon— it refers, of course, to that peculiarly British notion that complaining, if not morally repugnant, is at least certainly in bad taste and bad form.

Contrast this to the Jewish tradition in which grumbling, complaining, kvetching, is not only not bad form but actually a highly developed art form.

And so we have a new book out which highlights the Yiddish flair for creative grumbling with a title that says it all: “Born to Kvetch.”

The author suggests that “kvetching” is an attitude “that sees the world through cataract-colored glasses.”

He says “that if the Rolling Stones’ song, ‘(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction’ had been written in Yiddish, it would have been called ‘(I Love to Keep Telling You That I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (Because Telling You That I’m Not Satisfied Is All That Can Satisfy Me).’”

The author points out that even the most innocuous question can become a launching pad for kvetching— Question: How are you? Answer: Don’t ask!—the problem is, if you’re the questioner, you have already asked and what’s likely to follow is a twenty-minute laundry list of misfortunes and mishaps.

So given the rich Jewish heritage of creative kvetching, it’s not really surprising that in that most Jewish of books, the Hebrew Bible, what we call the Old Testament, there’s a fair amount of grumbling.

But what we might find surprising, and perhaps a little shocking, is how often this grumbling is addressed to God—how often complaints and accusations are leveled against God.

For example, in today’s lesson from Exodus, the Israelites, having escaped Egypt, are railing against Moses for leading them into a wilderness where they are in danger of perishing for lack of water—and Moses, sensing that a mutiny might be in the works, fears for his life—

But the people are not just protesting against Moses and Aaron, their leaders—they are also lodging a bitter complaint against Yaweh—they are voicing a vote of no confidence in Yaweh’s promise to provide for them.

Now twice before on this journey in the wild, Moses has had to contend with ominous rumbling and grumbling among the people when they have run out of water and food—and each time Yaweh has dispensed emergency provisions that have saved the day.

But even though Yaweh has rescued the Israelites twice before, their trust in Yaweh is far from certain and unshakable.

When they run out of water again, as described in today’s reading, the people are once more thrown into a state of panic and once more the sound of kvetching and grumbling is heard rising from their ranks which might be translated as follows: just because Yaweh saved us twice before doesn’t mean it will happen again!

Kvetching against God is one of the signature features of the Hebrew Bible—and the Jews can lay claim to doing it with unmatched fervor and originality.

For example, when my mother-in-law felt truly put upon, she would fall back on the prophet Isaiah for one of her favorite kvetches: “How long, O Lord?”

And, of course, the Psalms are chock-full of bold, blatant, and sometimes quite bleak grumblings against God.

This is from Psalm 88:

“Lord, why have you rejected me?
Why have you hidden your face from me?......
Your blazing anger has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me;
They surround me all day long like a flood;
they encompass me on every side.
My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me,
And darkness is my only companion.”

Maybe this is why one of my seminary professors said to us one day, “When you feel bad, I mean really bad, turn to the Psalms because they will articulate your woe far better than you can.”

And this Jewish tradition of outspoken, even brash, grumbling against God continues unto this day, often under the cover of humor.

A certain Jew went to the Wailing Wall every day where he prayed at the same spot from dawn til dusk—someone asked him what he was praying for—he replied, “For world peace and understanding.”—well, he was asked, how’s it going?—he answered, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”

Now the very idea of grumbling at God may strike some as unthinkably impertinent and irreverent—but I would suggest to you that kvetching at God is akin to the cranky child who says to his mother, “I hate you,” and the mother, completely unruffled, says in a matter of fact voice, “Yes, dear, I know.”

Well, I would like to consider with you how this ancient story of the Israelites’ grumbling, kvetching, in the wilderness, and the whole biblical tradition of kvetching against God, pose a question about faith that is also our question about faith day in and day out.

And the question is this—will we be provided for today, tomorrow, the next day?—Or, to quote today’s text, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

Because even during the most comfortable and secure of times, this question seems to lurk just below the surface.

Oh, yes—during past times of crisis and need, during the storms of life, we have repeatedly been given sustenance sufficient to see us through—but that’s no guarantee that we will continue to be blessed with those unexpected events of grace, those life-giving surprises, those gifts that have fallen into our laps, that have nourished and upheld us, that have refueled us and kept us going.

Certainly we remember how, when we have been languishing in the waste-land of trouble and tribulation, we have been fed, nurtured, and ministered to— yes, we cleave to these memories, but at the same time we question how and if this will happen the next time we’re in dire straits.

Because maybe next time the waves will roll over us—maybe next time we’ll go under—maybe next time we’ll be a gonner.

Enter grumbling—grumbling expresses the doubt and uncertainty that are always a part of faith—grumbling is the voice of our anxiety that maybe today or tomorrow our daily bread will come up missing.

So even as we hope and trust that we will somehow receive from the Giver of all good gifts whatever it is we truly need and cannot supply ourselves, at the same time we may well find ourselves plagued by the suspicion that this faith-business is just a pipe-dream and whistling in the dark.

The grumbling of doubt comes from realizing what faith is up against in “this mad, mad, mad, mad world”—yes, we may hear ourselves groaning, if not outwardly at least inwardly, when it dawns on us what a preposterous, impossible thing it is to have faith in such a harsh and merciless world.

James Muilenburg, professor of Old Testament at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, used to tell his students, “Every morning when you wake up, before you reaffirm your faith in.....God, before you say ‘I believe’ for another day, read the Daily News with its record of the latest crimes and tragedies....and then see if you can honestly say (I believe) again.”

Perhaps he would advise us to take a walk in the city or take a drive through those parts of the East Side or West Side where we dare not walk and take in the human wretchedness, the lives stunted and disfigured by social chaos and violence, poverty, untreated illness, malnutrition, drugs, what have you, and then see if we can say “I believe.”

For over twenty-five years, Father John McNamee worked as a parish priest in one of the poorest, roughest neighborhoods in North Philadelphia.

In “Diary of a City Priest,” he gives an account of his day-to-day efforts to minister to the people of the public housing projects, almost none of whom are Catholics.

His daily agenda might include trying to get somebody into a detox program for the third time, the thankless task of looking for a job, any job, for a parolee just out of prison, getting out of bed at 2 a.m. and going to night court because some young offender has no one else to speak for him, responding to the endless requests for food and help with unpaid bills that come literally knocking at his door, knowing there’s a good chance the money will go for drugs, twisting the arm of the ER doctor to get an uninsured woman admitted to the hospital, transporting somebody home in the middle of the night because Father McNamee is the only one with a car (until the car gets stolen), hounding potential donors for school scholarships for kids who otherwise will be hanging out on the corner and for contributions to get the pantry re-stocked, etc.

Every so often, when his morale and faith have become worn and threadbare almost to the vanishing point, he somewhat guiltily accepts an invitation from his suburban friends for dinner at an expensive restaurant or takes them up on their offer to pay for a short vacation trip to Ireland.

And when Father McNamee and his co-workers are sorely oppressed by the blight and raw misery of the projects, they are not at all reluctant to grumble at God—one day he and a social worker nun are visiting a high rise looking for a woman on drugs about to be evicted for rent delinquency, and a swarm of children are playing around an unprotected, dangerous elevator where a week earlier a child had fallen to his death—he asks the nun, “What do you think He (meaning God) had in mind?”—the nun answers “I don’t know, but he better go back to the drawing board.”

Father McNamee admits to times when he feels consumed by doubt, when, as he puts it, “I awake and the burden of this difficult place and a wounded self are simply there, waiting for me as I put my feet on the floor,” when it feels like “nothing is out there—no one—never was.”

And yet in the midst of his doubt he senses something else—he writes: “framed in the morning window (there is) such splendor, such sun and sky and birdsong, (that) even in the worn city....I am drawn in. Something greater is going on than this melodrama of mine....I should never lose sight of all that the window brings in here and invites me out into simultaneously...I sense that there is a larger reality in which (we are) encircled and the love (that) gave (us our) existence is awesomely greater than any clouding of the splendor of the gift by AIDS or tragedy or whatever.”

In the midst of his doubt, in the midst of this urban wilderness, Father McNamee is again and again, against all odds, fed and restored—one day at the break of dawn, as he is trying to assimilate the news that a cyclone in Bangladesh has claimed thousands of lives, he walks out into a breathtakingly cool, clear, sunlit May morning and is suddenly transfixed by the beauty of a blood-red azalea blooming in front of the concrete Ladyshrine.

Father McNamee’s faith is hounded and shadowed by doubt—he rages and grumbles against what he calls “the impossibility of my life” and yet at the same time he somehow continues to believe, to trust, that underneath everything, encircling all of us, are the Everlasting Arms.

So when we are blindsided by adversity and we realize, in the words of today’s collect, that “we have no power to help ourselves,” grumbling, you might say, is our natural reflex.

Like the Israelites, we grumble because we fear that this time relief might not be forthcoming, that this time we might be left high and dry.

So when deliverance, grace, happens, when we are fed in the wilderness, it is never a ho hum affair—it is always startling and miraculous—it is always cause for celebration and rejoicing.

Holding out our hands to receive bread and wine is the primal gesture of waiting to be fed by the mysterious Source of All Life.

Waiting to be fed is the adventure of faith.

And, as those members of our parish who have trekked to New Orleans well know, it is often by feeding others that we are fed.

To be given the opportunity to feed others with whatever talents and energy we have been given is sheer gift and grace—which is what Jennifer Anne Moses also discovered.

In her memoir, “Bagels and Grits, a Jew on the Bayou,” Ms. Moses speaks of moving with her husband and children from an upper crust suburb of Washington D.C. to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Severed from her familiar ties to friends, synagogue, and favorite delis, she soon discovers that she has landed in a polyglot wilderness of Cajuns and Evangelical Christians that seems alien and desolate.

A self-described nervous wreck, very much at loose ends, and desperately seeking some way of being useful, she volunteers at St. Anthony’s, an AIDS hospice, and decides to study Hebrew at the small local synagogue, Beth Shalom—she’s not sure she believes anything but this doesn’t prevent her from grumbling with a vengeance at God.

And then Katrina struck.

Ms. Moses writes:

“When Katrina, and then Rita, roared ashore, altering both the landscape and the American psyche, I found myself doing something I never would have been able to do had Stuart not dragged me and the kids down to Baton Rouge, where I found myself, both at St. Anthony’s and at Beth Shalom, surrounded by people whose deepest desire was to walk with God. In a shelter that had been set up in an abandoned K-Mart on Airline Highway, I worked—along with hundreds of medical and nonmedical volunteers from all over the country—tending to the sick and the desperate, giving sponge-baths, dispensing stuffed animals, and helping people who could barely walk get to the toilet or finding them something to eat. People I’d never before met and would no doubt never see again sobbed in my arms. Old men clutched my hand; Vietnam vets begged me to help them find relatives lost in the storm; people who’d spent days waist-high in filthy water or praying for their lives inside the New Orleans Superdome or the Civic Center blessed me, saying that I was an angel, and that God was good, and that the shelter itself—with its ancient grime, buzzing, fluorescent lighting, and almost complete lack of plumbing—was heaven.”

Ms. Moses goes on: “In the fifth-century book the Pesikta de-Rav Kahana it is written: ‘Between the Garden of Eden and ....(hell) there is no more than the breadth of a hand’”—that is, one human hand can make the difference between paradise and hell.

She concludes with this prayer: “Dear God, my heavenly Father, Source of All Life, guide my hands.”

And so we might pray: “Dear God, Source of All Life, guide our hands that they might feed those who are hungry in body, mind, or spirit.”

As our New Orleans missioners can vouch for, it is a one of the great paradoxes of the kingdom of God that in seeking to feed others, we are fed. Amen.

Robert Dwight
3 Lent
Christ Episcopal Church
Dayton, OH
February 24, 2008

Ritmul muzicii zboara spre mine,

Visez, realitatea spre noi vine,

Dansez si te observ pe tine...

Zambesti in coltul tau,

Aduci lumii fericire,

O scapi de tot ce-i rau,

Dansand in nemurire...

Te indrepti spre mine,

Zambetul dispare,

Apare fericire...

Si zambesti spre Soare.

Sub magie si lumina,

Am dansat noi doi,

Lumea devine iar putina,

Face loc iubirii dintre noi...

Sa dansam, sa ne iubim...

Asta noi traim...

Asta ne dorim...

Asta visam... atunci cand iar murim...

Psalm 23:5-6

The Rev. Robert Dwight
Lent 3
Christ Episcopal Church
Dayton, Ohio
March 2, 2008

Raman, ma plimb prin timp,

Sa regasesc ce inca simt...

Singur,

Ma regasesc pe mine-n tunet,

Sunt singur, ca un suflet...

Singur,

Si impreuna iar cu tine,

Inima in viata, dragostea mi-o tine...

Singur,

Am aflat ca sunt sihastru,

Imi place, ma plimb pe ceru-albastru...

Singur,

Ar fi mai bine langa tine,

Sa simt din nou iubire...

Singur,

Am aflat ca nu de mine tine,

Iubirea noastra, dragostea ce-o tin in mine...

Singur,

Te plac si te-am placut,

Te doresc, stiu, asta mereu m-a durut...

Sunt singur,

Timpul vietii e pierdut,

Sunt singur,

Sunt cum am fost, cum m-ai avut...

Si totusi suntem doi,

Singuri noi,

Singuri printre nori...

E sigur,

Acum suntem doi

"Tu nu esti singur..."

Mi-a zis iubirea dintre noi...

Singur,

Suflet de sihastru,

Ai ramas, pierdut in ceru-albastru...

Sunt singur...

Un om pierdut,

Singuratate...

E tot ce in viata am avut.

Sunt singur in singuratate...

Sunt singur,

Sperantele sunt moarte,

Si strig la timp:

 "Tu ai avut dreptate"

Sunt singur,

In a mea singuratate...

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: "James_Rachel" <James_Rachel@roberts.edu>
To: "James, Rachel" < rachelevajames@yahoo.ca>
Date: Mon, 26 Feb 2007 11:39:38 -0500
Subject: Lent for All

Settling for Less (Lk. 4:1-13)
by Barbara Brown Taylor

Barbara Brown Taylor teaches at Piedmont College in
Demorest, Ga.  This article appeared in the Christian
Century, February 18, 1998, page 169; copyright by the
Christian Century Foundation and used by permission.
Current articles and subscription information can be
found at www.christiancentury.org. This material was
prepared for Religion Online by Ted & Winnie Brock.

___________________________

Do not bother looking for Lent in your Bible
dictionary. There was no such thing in biblical times.
There is some evidence that early Christians fasted 40
hours between Good Friday and Easter, but the custom
of spending 40 days in prayer and self-denial did not
arise until later, when the initial rush of Christian
adrenaline was over and believers had gotten very
ho-hum about their faith.

When the world did not end as the disciples had
thought Jesus himself had said it would, his
followers stopped expecting so much from God or from
themselves. They hung a wooden cross on the wall and
settled back into their more or less comfortable
routines, remembering their once passionate devotion
to God the way they remembered the other enthusiasms
of their youth.

Little by little, Christians became devoted to their
comforts instead: the soft couch, the flannel sheets,
the leg of lamb roasted with rosemary. These things
made them feel safe and cared for -- if not by God,
then by themselves. They decided there was no
contradiction between being comfortable and being
Christian, and before long it was very hard to pick
them out from the population at large. They no longer
distinguished themselves by their bold love for one
another. They did not get arrested for championing the
poor. They blended in. They avoided extremes. They
decided to be nice instead of holy, and God moaned out
loud.

Hearing that, someone suggested it was time to call
Christians back to their senses, and the Bible offered
some clues about how to do that. Israel spent 40 years
in the wilderness learning to trust the Lord. Elijah
spent 40 days there before hearing the still, small
voice of God on the same mountain where Moses spent 40
days listening to God give the law. There was also
Luke's story about Jesus' own 40 days in the
wilderness during which he was sorely tested by the
devil. It was hard. It was awful. It was necessary, if
only for the story. Those of us who believe it have
proof that it is humanly possible to remain loyal to
God.

So the early church announced a season of Lent, from
the old English word lenten, meaning "spring" -- not
only a reference to the season before Easter, but also
an invitation to a springtime for the soul.  Forty
days to cleanse the system and open the eyes to what
remains  when all comfort is gone. Forty days to
remember what it is like to live by the grace of God
alone and not by what we can supply for ourselves.

I think of it as an Outward Bound for the soul. No one
has to sign up for it, but if you do then you give up
the illusion that you are in control of your life. You
place yourself in the hands of strangers who ask you
to do foolhardy things, like walk backwards over a
precipice with nothing but a rope around your waist or
climb a sheer rock face with your fingers and toes.
But none of these is the real test, because while you
are doing them you have plenty of people around and
lunch in a cooler.

The real test comes when you go solo. The strangers
put you out all by yourself in the middle of nowhere
and wish you luck for the next 24 hours. That is when
you find out who you are.  That is when you find out
what you really miss and what you are really afraid
of. Some  people dream about their favorite food. Some
long for a safe room with a door to lock and others
just wish they had a pillow, but they all find out
what their pacifiers are -- the habits, substances or
surroundings they use to comfort themselves, to block
out pain and fear.

Without those things they are suddenly exposed, like
someone addicted to painkillers whose prescription has
just run out.  It is hard. It is awful. It is
necessary, to encounter the world without anesthesia,
to find out what life is like with no comfort but God.
I am convinced that 99 percent of us are addicted to
something, whether it is eating, shopping, blaming or
taking care of other people. The simplest definition
of an addiction is anything we use to fill the empty
place inside of us that belongs to God alone.

That hollowness we sometimes feel is not a sign of
something gone wrong. It is the holy of holies inside
of us, the uncluttered throne room of the Lord our
God. Nothing on earth can fill it, but that does not
stop us from trying. Whenever we start feeling too
empty inside, we stick our pacifiers into our mouths
and suck for all we are worth.  They do not nourish
us, but at least they plug the hole.

To enter the wilderness is to leave them behind, and
nothing is too small to give up. Even a chocolate bar
will do.  For 40 days, simply pay attention to how
often your mind travels in that direction. Ask
yourself why it happens when it happens. What is going
on when you start craving a Mars bar? Are you hungry?
Well, what is wrong with being hungry? Are you lonely?
What is so bad about being alone? Try sitting with the
feeling instead of fixing it and see what you find
out.

Chances are you will hear a voice in your head that
keeps warning you what will happen if you give up your
pacifier. "You'll starve. You'll go nuts. You won't be
you anymore." If that does not work, the voice will
move to level two: "That's not a pacifier.  That's a
power tool.  Can't you tell the difference?" If you do
not fall for that one, there is always level three:
"If God really loves you, you can do whatever you
want. Why waste your time on this dumb exercise?"

If you do not know to whom that voice belongs, read
Luke's story again. Then tell the devil to get lost
and decide what you will do for Lent. Better yet,
decide whose you will be.

Worship the Lord your God and serve no one else.

Expect great things, from God and from yourself.

Believe that everything is possible.
Why should any of us settle for less?

This Fourth of July found me working at the Bucks and then hanging with friends. It was quite a war zone, as I am sure it was in your town. Fireworks going off everywhere, and I had to work at 4:30 the next morning. Needless to say, there was no beer drinking this year.

THis year was also the first time in a long time I didn't return to Blaine, WA for the Annual Fourth of July Celebration. I actually quite enjoy the Fourth of July in a small town. They have a parade where most people in town know somebody in the parade. There is usually a dog parade, a real estate agent in a Drop Top Chevy Camaro from the 90's, AAU and middle school sports teams celebrating their victorious season, and the High School band marching through. This year found a band called the Clumsy Lovers playing. This was a big step for Blaine to bring in a national touring act to entertain before the fireworks.

I've been working quite a bit. Between RCC, Starbucks, Guitar Lessons, and trying to hang out with people, I have not been inside too often. I've grown quite a bit as a barista actually. I can sling drinks pretty quickly these days.

Cynthia's belly is getting bigger. She is quite adorable. She's outgrown all of her clothes and now is beginning to wear maternity clothes! It's a bit crazy and funny at the same time. We have our second appointment this week, but we wont find out the sex until next month.

I went to a songwriters forum this past week with other worship leaders from around Bellingham. It was quite nice. I am building a relationship with Sean Hall. Sean is a enormously talented singer/songwriter who used to play in a band called Day Dreamer here in bellingham. I enjoy his ideas and songs. If you go to my music Myspace link on the side, Day Dreamer are one of my "top friends".

I've also begun to write and record again. Hopefully, I will have some new songs posted for you to listen to soon. Not so much worship songs, but more so on the "artistic" side. I guess from the worship angle of things, they would be seen as artistic rather than accesible.

Lastly, I am a bit upset that the Sonics went to Oklahoma City. Not that they were stellar, but I am a traditionalist. Change scares me, even if it is better for somebody. Who wins in this situation? I couldn't really tell you...

That's all I've got for you as far as updates lately. I promise that I will be more consistant, I just needed a little break with the world going crazy around me!

What have you been up to? Let me know!

So I get to figuring. Lent is forty days. Of sacrifice. But if you actually count the days from Ash Wednesday (when Lent begins), to Easter Sunday (when Lent ends), it’s not 40 days. It’s 46 days. And why is that? Because everyone gets Sundays off in Lent. So why shouldn’t I? Why do I have to write 100 words on a Sunday?

Because I said I would write 100 words a day.

So here they are.

As always with these posts I'm not trying to be aggressive or anything, I'm simply trying to help others (as well as myself) understand the Catholic faith Tradition, and seek to promote understanding and respect. And since I get questions all the time, and answer pretty inadequately, I try to come back with more complete (yet still not very eloquent) answers.

So, Why do Catholics eat fish on fridays in Lent?

Common answers might be: Because the church tells me too. It's something else to sacrifice. I don't know, but I do it anyway.

But, lets take a deeper look into this.

Christ came to earth as a human. The word for this is the "Incarnation" The root of this word, carn, is the latin word for BOTH flesh and meat. During the prepatory time of Lent, we try to deny the flesh and seek God more fully. Therefore, by abstaining from meat on fridays, we are denying the flesh as Christ did in His death and resurrection.

Then, why do we eat fish instead?

Ichthus is the Greek word for fish. It is an acronym, formed from the initial letters of the Greek words Ièsous Christos Theou 'Uios Sotèr, which means: Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior.

  Ièsous                              Jesus

  Christos                           Christ

  Theou                              God

  Uios                                  Son

  Sotèr                                Savior

The Ichthus sign was used as a "secret" form of communication between the persecuted believers of the early church. The symbol was often drawn with the foot in the sand.

So, while we are denying the flesh or "carn" by abstaining from meat on fridays during lent, we eat fish to symbolize our acceptance of "Jesus Christ, God, Son, Savior"

El trajecte en el que em moc a diari, Vilafranca - Barcelona, és de 50 km i només cal mirar el rellotge i comprovar que es tarden entre 60 i 65 minuts fins a Plaça Catalunya. Una hora i cinc minuts per fer 50 km!! Uns fantàstics 50 km/h, el tren del futur...

Fa més de deu anys que el servei no ha millorat en quantitat de trens, continua la freqüència d'1 tren cada mitja hora i ni un sol trist directe o semi-directe. Les opcions són: para a la Granada i Lavern o no para. Des de Vilanova i la Geltrú, tenen més o menys la mateixa distància i tarden 37 minuts amb un semi-directe i 45 amb el normal. Està bastant millor, la veritat, i millora si tenim en compte que tenen uns 4 trens per hora. No cal ser matemàtic per veure la millora en qualitat de vida que això comporta. Alguns diràn que allà fan servir més el tren que aquí, però ja m'agradaria veure què passa a Vilanova i Sitges si tinguessin la meitat detrens i més lents.

En el tram Cornellà - Sants, d'escassos quilòmetres, el tren tarda gairebé 20 minuts en fer-lo. Per aborrir a les ovelles.

Els mitjans ja no consideren notícia els retrassos de trens, continus i gairebé diaris (i quan ho feien parlaven gairebé sempre de la línia de la costa) així que per no ser tant passiu, publicaré cada petit o gran greuje patit per culpa dels trens, un dels pitjors serveis que tenim per aquí (de internet o ONO ni en parlarem...). És l'única manera que se m'acudeix de queixar-me i fer una mica la rabieta davant els que ens pretenen fer creure que la normalitat ha arribat de nou.

I si així fos, i això és la normalitat, també fot autèntica pena.

If there is one thing the Orthodox Church likes to do, it is fast. I'm not sure why there is so much fasting. Apparently following fasting rules suited to an ancient Mediterranean culture makes us more spiritual.

The only truly Apostolic fasting is the Wednesday/Friday fast days. Great Lent started as a recommended discipline for catechumens who would be baptised at Pascha, though the very early Church may have fasted for 40 hours in preparation. The Christmas fast could not have preceded the origins of the Christmas feast. The Dormition fast and the Apostles Fast are more recent.

The number of fasting days varies from year to year, depending on the date of Pascha. And early Pascha cuts short the normal time after Theophany and extends the Apostles' Fast. In 2010, by my rough calculation, there are 195 fasting days. By fasting days, I mean days when meat is not allowed, so I'm including Cheesefare week. For a carnivore such as me, any day without meat is a day of severe asceticism.

This leaves 170 normal, regular, meat and potatoes days. Fasting seems to lose it value if it is actually more of the norm than normal eating. And when a fast and a feast conflict, the fast wins. The feast of the Annunciation is an example of this. This is the true feast of Incarnation, but it is trumped by Great Lent.

Observed more strictly than I am able, Orthodoxy seems like a vegetarian religion with occasional omnivorous moments. If our sacramental theology says that all of creation is sacramental and that everything we eat is sacramental, because we bless it and it is a gift from God, why do we spend so much time not eating it?

Pointing a finger squarely at myself, I can honestly admit I have committed each denominations mistakes. As a youngster, pride reared its head if my sacrifice for Lent seemed greater than my best friend's. The problem of coming out ahead through sacrifice (if I give up chocolate, I might lose a couple of pounds) was and still is present. The difficulties of a basically self-centered, loner-personality are hard to overcome. As an adult in a reformed church I've felt slightly smug when giving of myself.

Protestants, I think, underestimate the value of giving something up for Lent. When you forfeit chocolate or TV for Lent, you are aware many times a day of your sacrifice. Each time you long for that cookie you realize how small your offering is compared to Christ’s sacrifice. Each time you wish you could satisfy your habit, you remember God. That is no small thing. The time isn’t meant for wallowing in sin, but in acknowledging the immense love God had for us and how infrequently we return that love or even think of Him.

Giving of ourselves brings us closer to the “what would Jesus do?” question. How can we bring His Kingdom closer, how do we show our love and tolerance for those around us and especially for those who are different from us. But if it’s a one shot deal during the 40 days, is it really effective? If it is a daily “offering” of ourselves for 40 days, that is indeed, a fitting gift to our Lord, but how to accomplish it takes great dedication and thought.

The questions I ask myself, are -- What can I do that will bring me a greater awareness of God's nearness and keep me in His presence? What can I offer to show my love for Him? How can I bring about His Kingdom in some small way?

There is no best way to observe Lent. Each of the two ways, and there are many others, I’m sure, are valid, if done with love. Isn’t that what Lent, faith and Christianity all boil down to; God’s tremendous love for us and our half-hearted attempts to love Him back? So, standing before God’s love, as if it were the world’s tallest mountain, I come with a tiny pebble, no bigger than a grain of sand, and I offer it to Him in complete humility, knowing He sees it and understands. It's the only thing I can do.

View the Church Calendar

Se pierde in nori,

Se loveste de sol,

Rapid iubiri-i da un rol.

Un suflet ce te roaga etern,

Sa nu-l fi uitat,

Amintiri-i aplica pereu,

Iubirea sa ramana mereu...

Suflet gol,

A plans, s-a stins arzand,

A murit razand,

Lovindu-se de sol...

Si-n sol ajunge dragostea,

De acolo a pornit,

Totul a fost scris,

Exact asa cum iubirea a murit...

Suflet gol,

Pentru-o viata cat secunda

Plin a fost,

S-a lovit de sol...

We began using the prayer stations on the first Sunday in Lent (Feb. 10th).  We continued using the stations through Easter.

For the time during Lent we kept with the same 4 stations, only deviating when it was a communion Sunday.  These four stations were:

#1 - Prayer kneeling station.  We had Pastor Ann Marie in the back corner of the sanctuary praying a personal prayer with people as they came individually with their concerns and hopes.

#2 - Confession & Absolution station.  We had a small table set up with 2 bowls each filled with blank note cards.  There were pens and a small desk lamp on the table.  There were 2 pedestals behind the table; one had the urn which people places their sin note cards in to be burnt after the service and the other had a vase which displayed the burnt note cards from previous services.

#3 - Candle Station.  We set up around 100 candles and invited people to come and light a candle to remember that God is with them everywhere they go.  There were cards with scripture verses printed on them for each person to pick up and read while they lit the candle.

#4 - Offertory Station.  We had an offering basket on a pedestal with rugs underneath and encouraged people to use this basket to place their offerings in each week.

After Easter we took a break from the stations to get peoples reactions.  There was an overwhelming response to bring back the stations on a weekly basis.  We brought the stations back for Pentecost (May 11) and will continue to use them through the summer.  Listed below are the stations we have been using for each week.

Pentecost/Mother's Day stations: Candles, Mother's Day Poster, Kneeling

Mother's Day Station - Poster board and markers on a table for people to answer "What is one thing you remember about your mother?"

May 18th stations - Prayer Kneeling, Candles, Confession & Question Station

Question Station - We had poster board and markers and asked people to write their earliest childhood memory.

May 25th stations - Kneeling, Candles, Remembering Soldiers

Remembering Soldiers Station - We had printed note cards out of each person from our congregation currently serving and had people come up and take one or two cards to pray for each of those soldiers during the week.

June 1st station - Kneeling, Confession, 10 Commandments, Communion

Communion Stations - We had three stations set up around the room with three rugs.  The people were invited to come forward and receive communion from the elders while standing on the rug.

10 Commandments Station - Our sermon series for the next 10 weeks is the 10 Commandments, so we put butcher paper on a table and asked people to paint or draw what the 1st commandment means to them.

June 8th stations - 10 Commandments, Confession, Kneeler, American Idols

American Idols Station - Our sermon topic was on the commandment you shall have no idols. So we set out magazines for people to cut out what we as Americans idol and then glue those pieces on construction paper for us to hang up on the walls.

That's it for now!  We'll have to see what fun we can come up for this week!  Father's Day!