Mystical Murmurs: My Interfaith Life

Last week I participated in an evening vigil for a woman (let's call her Laura, not her real name) in one of our sadder local nursing homes. I've been to this location a few times, and each time I come away from the experience really and truly depressed. Not because the patient is dying -- we all will have to do that -- but because this facility is so very different from others I've visited. This place is where the indigent and lonely go to die. My volunteer coordinator informed me ahead of time that Laura had no family, none at all, no one to sit with her. Entering her room, I noticed how different it was from other rooms I'd sat vigil in recently: there were no flowers, no family photos; the walls were blank; the TV, which was not on, was a small portable resembling one I had in the 1970s; and there was no electric light, aside from the typical fluorescent fixture found above hospital beds. I left it off. It was 6:30 when I arrived, so there was plenty of natu

Despite a couple of cold blasts from Canada, we've had a very mild winter here in the mid-Atlantic region. I can count the number of times I wore my down-filled parka -- few enough that it won't need cleaning for next year -- and I haven't used my fireplace at all. Christmas Eve found us at 70 degrees here in New Jersey, a most un-Christmas-like temperature. It's hard to burn the Yule log when you have to open the windows at the same time! I have often wondered about Christmas in Florida. I suppose our neighbors to the south have created their own warmer-weather traditions for that festive time of year. We noticed daffodils coming up at church about two or three weeks ago, and tulips will not be far behind. And today we are approaching 80 degrees!  Aside from the problem of what to wear on these unusually warm days (do I tough it out with a light sweater, or go rooting through the closet like a pig looking for truffles -- in my case, a tee shirt?). But the real

I normally shop for groceries on either Friday night or early Saturday morning, making every effort to avoid crowds. I hate crowds! The absolute worst time for grocery shopping, I tell myself, is early Sunday afternoon, when all the "old dears" have exited the noon mass and are slowly trundling up and down the aisle, pushing their carts at barely perceptible speed. "Old dears, is it?" says Reality Chick, who lives in my head and is wont to speak up at the least opportune times. " Old dears? Now, that's just a shame. I clearly heard you grunting when you had to stoop down for the shredded wheat. And both your knees popped when you stood back up." OK, so ... my knees are a little wonky. Only when the weather is wet and warmish ....Not most  of the time ... "And have you looked in the mirror lately?" she continues. "The top of your head near the part is starting to go gray. And those jowls? You didn't have those at thirty. Or fo

OMG, I understand we are expecting a "monster snowstorm" in the next day or two. For the DC area, it may well be a storm of historic proportions -- not so much for us here in New Jersey. Is it time to panic? Should I join the crowd of other little old ladies beating a path to the Superfresh in search of the always-important bread and milk? Maybe not. I have bread in the freezer, and plenty of milk. I only use milk in coffee anyway. And how long are we ever snowed in, in our part of the country? A day or two, no more. If I had to, I could trundle on foot to the grocery store. But I wouldn't. I'd eat microwave popcorn and watch movies until the snow melts or J. got us shoveled out. But this is a human response to a threat, right? We're circling the wagons, sandbagging the riverbank, preparing to evacuate .... No. Not for this. When Three Mile Island had its meltdown in 1979, J. and I had an escape plan. THAT was a threat! This hardly rises to that level.

Well, I hope this graphic is large and colorful enough to make the message clear: despite being disciplined by the less enlightened portions of the Anglican Communion, we Episcopalians stand fast on the belief that all are entitled to marry. Man-woman, man-man, woman-woman -- it's all good. Any two people with good intentions and a pulse may marry in the Episcopal Church. A lot of deliberation went into the recent change in our canons. And while it's true that you can't please all the people all the time, most of the people I know seem pleased that same-sex marriage is now approved. As for the Anglican Communion, which a friend of mine today referred to as the last, tattered remnants of the British Empire, well, maybe it's time to move forward without them. At any rate, I plan to add the "disciplining" of the Episcopal Church to the long (very, very long) list of things that don't keep me awake at night. Meanwhile, join us in church. You're ALL