Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

The early darkness of the coming winter usually doesn't bother me, but this year I feel differently, and it's bothered me since the time-change. I suppose J. and I are becoming more than normally aware of our own mortality, as his mom, the last of our parents, seems to have entered her final weeks. Our oldest dog, Shadow, seems to be entering her final stretch as well, though I have no reason to think she's in any pain. We're also watching a loved one cope with addictions, and anticipating a potential job loss next year. These are all difficult events. It's hard to see past them somehow.They loom large, and we find ourselves in their shadow. Life in general is difficult for many people we know right now, as we wait for things to get better in so many ways. Waiting through sadness is harder than for future joy. Yet I guess Advent is all about waiting; in fact, it's about waiting through difficult times.  Who had harder lives than people in sub-Roman Palestine? 

Anyone who knows me well is aware that I am absolutely phobic about spiders. Spiders, in fact, have no reason for existence in my personal universe.  I don't give a damn what other bugs they eat, or whatever other good things they do for the ecosystem. Pffft! Spiders go with cans of Raid like mustard goes with hotdogs. A few years ago, however, after a guilty struggle, I did become able to tolerate a spider's presence on my porch -- providing it stayed at the uninhabited end of it, down by the wind chime, spinning its nasty webs down from the porch roof to the top of the woodpile, and with the assumption that the spider would conveniently freeze to death (or whatever happens to spiders in the fall) long before I would ever need the wood. I guess you could say I kind of feel negative about insects in general. Now, in my defense, I have to say that I am downright fond of certain creatures that don't make most peoples' top-ten list: snakes, rodents of all kinds, and li

When I was a kid, Halloween was my favorite holiday.  Probably some children feel that way still.  And there was a whole "Halloween season," which started right after school reopened in the fall.  By the end of September, the classroom was decorated with pumpkin drawings and construction-paper cutouts of ghosts and witches (I don't remember cornstalks.  I imagine they were not yet in vogue).  But the best thing about Halloween, in the early 1960s, was the freedom of Halloween night. Hard as it is to believe, Halloween trick-or-treating back in the day was done in the dark, absent hovering parents.  Parents stayed at home and watched TV, after helping us children get into our costumes, handing us flashlights, and warning us appropriately about getting run over (this is the only warning I recall ever receiving).  Costumes could be more-or-less the same for several years. "Blue fairy again?" Mom would inquire, and I consented to be the blue fairy until I outgrew

 Another chunk of my childhood seems  about to drop off and float away on the river of time.  I should be used to this by now, but it gets me every time! The link above is for the church where I grew up, the Cathedral Church of Saint John, in Wilmington, Delaware. I learned recently that the Cathedral will be closing in July 2012, for lack of funds.  I knew there were financial problems, but I had no idea it had come to this.  I have never before heard of a diocese without a Cathedral, though perhaps I am naive to be so horrified by this thought. Below is an excerpt from the History portion of the Cathedral's website: The Cathedral Church of Saint John is the Cathedral for the Episcopal Diocese of Delaware and the seat of the Bishop of Delaware. June 13, 1857, the cornerstone was laid, and the church was consecrated on November 3, 1858. Alexis Irenee du Pont is credited with founding the church and donating the funds for its construction. Joh

A Facebook friend of mine, Jeff,  died recently.  He was only 54, younger than I am, and had suffered from muscular dystrophy. Close to the end, he had only 10%  of his lung function, and was on a ventilator. I was saddened by his passing, but I'm amazed by his courage. A week ago Saturday,  Jeff had a party.  Twenty or so of his closest friends were there, as were his parish priest, his two adult children, and his physician and hospice nurse.  After feasting on his favorite foods, including large quantities of chocolate, Jeff gathered his friends together to watch as he received Last Rites. At that point, the doctor administered to Jeff a dose of ativan, and, at Jeff's direction, removed his ventilator. With his children at his side and his friends offering comfort, Jeff died peacefully. This is a beautiful story, and I know we would all like to die peacefully at home, with our families and friends at our side.  The question is, would I have the courage to make the dec