Common-sense Wisdom

During my journeys through cyberspace I came across this link for an article in the Huffington Post. I had never encountered Rabbi Shmuley Boteach before, so I looked up his website and was impressed with his common-sense approach to life as a person of faith. His article on homophobia in America is well worth reading, because it introduces hope and a way to stop churches, synagogues and society from pulling themselves apart.

The Rabbi shares some scriptures, puts the usually quoted verses into context and contends the following:

As an orthodox Rabbi who reveres the Bible I do not deny the Biblical prohibition on male same-sex relationships. Rather, I simply place it in context. There are 613 commanments in the Torah. One is to refrain from gay sex. Another is for men and women to marry and have children. So when Jewish gay couples come to me for counselling and tell me they have never been attracted to members of the opposite sex in their entire lives and are desperately alone, I tell them, “You have 611 commandments left. That should keep you busy. Now, go create a kosher home with a mezuzah scroll on the door. Turn off the TV on the Sabbath and share your challah with many guests. Pray to G-d the prescribed three times a day for you are His beloved children. He desires you and seeks you out.”

Rabbi Boteach finishes his article by sharing his views on the differences between moral and religious sin.  For me, he makes a compelling case for tolerance; he also shows us a way whereby we can love one another, whatever………… and isn’t that the way we all want to be loved and accepted?

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Frank McCourt

Oh dear – this is me about to show myself up to be illiterate and a bit of an inverted literary snob – at least I fear it may be. Please bear with me, and if you have ever read this autobiography, let me know what you think about the writing style.

I only came across Frank McCourt’s first acclaimed writing – Angela’s Ashes – by means of the film, and that is obviously a cheat. I found the film dreary and sad and not as uplifting as others thought. However, I picked up the book’s sequel – ‘Tis – at the Library Van and barely gave it a second glance as I placed it on the counter. If I had looked inside, something strange about the writing might have struck me and rung a warning bell. The whole book is written as a stream of consciousness, with never a hint of direct speech, but I had chosen the book and I was determined to give it a go. Perhaps I should have given up after the first 50 pages or so; that would certainly have saved me several days of frustration.

It was impossible for me to identify with the person writing; as far as I could see, Frank McCourt was immersed forever in the gloom and desperate sadness of his childhood. The book unfolds revealing his progress throughout his return to America, the country of his birth, but he constantly harps back to Limerick in Ireland, where he grew up. I felt like one of his failed students being forced to read a book which for me held little merit.

To be honest, my main objection is to its style. Perhaps he did too good a job of making me feel his pain and despair. But I like stories where effort is rewarded and a life is turned round. Sorry Mr McCourt, but the you speaking in the book is not someone I find attractive. You sound self-indulgent and whinging and for some reason you make me cross. Then again, it could be that this is the sign of so-called “good” literature, and that could explain why your first volume was awarded many prizes and accolades.

I haven’t looked up any reviews online, and now await the onslaughts from his fans. Bear in mind that I don’t like Hemingway’s style either; it is the direct opposite with lines and lines of direct speech with the odd descriptive sentence thrown in. I feel a bit of a pleb writing about someone of such recognised stature in these terms, but that’s what the blog is about – revealing myself quirks and all. It might show how hard I find it to express dislike or conflict, being someone who is usually a conciliator. (It goes with the job!)

What am I missing – except perhaps a university degree in English or American literature?

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Thoughts on Sunday

So what am I thinking of as I get ready to go out to a church service. Well, there’s a story in the Bible which warns of feeling overly pleased with ourselves. Two men stand up to pray in the synagogue: one is full of himself and glad he is not like the other and the miserable sinners, the other is humble and aware of the unfathomable mysteries of God. I came across this poem, quoted in a May Sarton journal and it reminded me of that story, but also of the wonderful way that we are forgiven and loved and accepted, no matter who we are.

Remember the spider
Weaving a snare
– And that you did it
Everywhere:

Remember the Cat
Tormenting a bird
– And that you did it
In deed and word:

Remember the fool
Frustrating the good
– And that you did it
Whenever you could:

Remember the devil
And treachery
– And that you did it
When you were he:

Remember all ill
That men can know
– And that you did it
When you were so:

And then remember
Not to forget,
– That you did it
And do it yet.

James Stephens

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Routines

One of the things that makes me laugh about Misty is the way she likes to have routines. By the way, a lot of the time I am laughing with her – you can tell by the bounce in her step and the extra twinkle in her eyes. Each morning she goes out, then comes back to bed for a snuggle and an extra snooze, then after I am showered and dressed it is time for her eye ointment. She has no natural tears in her right eye, so each morning she comes to remind me, jumps up on her special chair and tilts her head to the left to make the procedure easier. Then of course it is half a dentastix, which she proceeds to “kill” by pouncing at it and ultimately rolling on top to make sure.

Humans adopt routines too; I often think about how it works when doing the morning ablutions or facing up to the need to get down to some (less frequent than ever,) housework. I am sure of one thing though; as I get older it is especially important to have set places to put keys, mobile phone and wallet etc. It means there is less of a scurry when it is time to go out. I used to be always flying out the door with hardly enough time to catch a ferry, nowadays it is more likely to be an appointment for medical needs.

Whatever the habits and routines we build up, it’s true to say that time seems to go faster and faster as we go through life. No sooner are we dressed than it seems time to get undressed, and even in retirement there are things I never seem to get done. When do we start to become creatures of habit? When do habits become the established custom? And worst thought of all – when do they become an addiction?

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Photos of pictures

These are some photos of paintings recently hung in the Dalamory Homestead. They are all the more special because they are by a friend. I used to think it would be fun to try my hand at painting, (as well as all sorts of other crafts,) once I was retired. Methinks perhaps I am hooked on my computer instead.

The above painting was a bit tricky to photograph because of the light shining through the porch windows. Whereas the one below, shows that I am somewhat height challenged.

The last of the three was difficult to get in range of, because of the piece of furniture that is positioned right in front of it.

As well as the ongoing pleasure these will give, it was great fun having them framed and finding the right places to display them. Warm thanks to you-know-who.

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WWJD ?

For those in the know about the letters – don’t worry, this is not a rant. The question of what would Jesus say or do to us all in the churches, were he to return today is not such a flight of fancy, and certainly not an invitation to look for Biblical proof texts ad nauseam. Last night we were talking about how being a “progressive” Christian perhaps with some radical or liberal leanings meant that it was imperative that we accept and include everybody in God’s love, and in the institutions of the church, even when we don’t always agree about everything.

Then someone threw in the WWJD question. Quick as a flash, HBTW said……  “He’d make Graham Norton Pope!”

General uproar and laughter followed……… then we got back to the serious stuff – learning how the secret name for God is “Compassion.”  Another good evening as we approach the end of our Living the Questions journey. The course has certainly challenged assumptions and the way we live our lives. It may not be for everybody as a good bit of it is theological and cerebral, but more of it is to encourage a compassionate and caring way of living, knowing God who is as near as our every breath

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Compassion

It’s off to Living the Questions discussion group tonight – the title being “Compassion: The heart of Jesus’ Ministry.” It often seems to me that the churches need to be reminded about that. There is so much posturing and complaining and vociferous falling out. (We all know over what topics.)

I keep coming back to the fact that we are asked to give a cup of water; and that reminds me of the beautiful statue at the centre of the cloisters in Chester Cathedral.

This is an evocative image to hold in the imagination whilst discussion the current state of theology and the church. Happily, at the group people listen, express questions and opinions and laugh…… yes, laugh. There is a true sense of us all being in it together. That has got to be good.

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Remote technology

Tens of thousands of BT Broadband customers in Scotland, N. Ireland and the north of England have been without broadband yesterday and into today. What a palaver!

First of all the broadband was intermittent yesterday, then at 8pm last night it went off completely. Helplines were constantly engaged and by the time I did get through last thing, it transpired that there was a major problem and the remote robot suggested the caller phoned back in the morning. You can imagine the atmosphere in Dalamory……. and probably all over the land. This morning, I geared myself up and managed to get through. 32mins on hold, then another hour getting various advisers to sort it out.

What I noticed in particular was the conciliatory and sincere (also anxious) attitudes of all involved in helping to reset equipment. As I had agreed to a feedback session, it was just as well. However, I often have difficulties with accents and people who talk very fast – both on the telephone and the television, and that made things a bit more problematic.

On the whole I was satisfied with the service to reconnect the system, but it highlights yet again how precarious our social and business lives are nowadays. I just hope there is never a world-wide outage…. imagine what would or rather would not happen. Emails, business quotes, information of all kinds, medical consultations online (fast becoming essential in rural Scotland,) online shopping, (I was ordering HBTW’s birthday present on amazon yesterday,) Banking, Local Authority communications and so forth.

After all the excitement I needed a snooze, so the afternoon has been very quiet. I almost hesitate to say how wonderful it is to have the internet operational again. It is a wonderful world of networking …….. when it works; and of course if it doesn’t – there’s no easy way to let people know.

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Atmospheric

This is just a hint of the atmosphere from yesterday’s walk. Taken by the other half on his iphone. Pretty good considering.

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Technical troubles again

Sorry for being offline yesterday, there was a problem with the server. It did make me realise how often I am on the website, tinkering, posting and generally messing about; and of course the stats were down to near zero. (Not that I bother about things like that of course.)

Yesterday was one of those rare, still autumn days – no real sun, but sudden showers and in between, the drip, drip, drip from the leaves still on the trees. Misty’s walk was to be to a forest, as there is more cover there, but sadly it was closed off for tree-felling operations. The natural Scottish oak woodland had looked as if it needed some TLC. The maintenance people usually just fell dangerous branches/trees and leave them where they fall to create an ongoing habit for small creatures. In the end we settled for a walk along the River Orchy.

Guess who forgot to take their camera? Annoying because there was the potential for some stunning shots. Not so much the colour of autumn leaves, but more the muted colour of rain glistening on the trees and occasional glimpses of a misty sun shining through the backdrop of nature. Absolutely stunning. Unfortunately my word pictures are not up to describing the beauty of shape, form and silent acceptance of the watery world. The river rushed alongside the little road, bracken the colour of burnt umber lined the verges and the trees were awesome in their acceptance of rain and the eventual falling of their leaves. Ditches were full of clear water lined with sunken leaves and burns rushed down the hillsides to meet up with the mother river. It felt us if we were a part of nature.

What a miracle.

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