Girl Power

You go Pope Francis! Normally I wouldn't pontificate so casually regarding the Pontiff, but this One seems to be inviting us to be more real and familiar.

I liked so much of what he is reported to have said in his recent interview. Particularly this, speaking of the social issues that the church obsesses over: 

The dogmatic and moral teachings of the church are not all equivalent. The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently ...

We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow.

How about the role of women? When asked about this, he sounded pretty much like all male authority figures in the church:

I am wary of a solution that can be reduced to a kind of “female machismo,” because a woman has a different makeup than a man. But what I hear about the role of women is often inspired by an ideology of machismo. Women are asking deep questions that must be addressed.

Let me say clearly, I don't understand an "ideology of machismo." Apparently it is much clearer in Latin cultures and this Pope would know much more about that than I ever could.

So I will write what I do know. For many years I had a role in ministry to young people, mainly adolescents. All of this was within the Southern Baptist Convention. I am so sad to say that the most conservative of this denomination still hold to a narrow view of the role of women in the church and, unfortunately, beyond the church walls too. I am very happy to say that I've been blessed to know many, many women who identified with Baptists who were strong, effective leaders despite the rhetoric and ranting of church fathers. All of the dogma on the matter comes from a few verses in the letters of the Apostle Paul. I don't know of anything in the words or life of Jesus that would lead anyone to the conclusions the church has drawn on the matter.

Judy, Jane, Paula, Brooke, Jessica are just a few of the young women I've known who believed they had a calling to serve the church. It broke my heart to know of the hurdles, roadblocks and discouragement they would face if they pursued this calling in a Baptist church.

Again the good news is, as I've already said, many women have just forged on anyway: my Mom, my Aunt Betty, my Mother-In-Law Betty, my Daughter-In-Law Kara and my own Amazing Missus Arlene.

Yes that's my youngest grand girl, Harper, in the cape pictured above. I hope she  always believes she has super powers. Her cape is just as significant to me as the priestly garments of the Pope himself.

You go Harper and Karlee and young girls everywhere.

Was I At Woodstock

1969: A man on the moon, the amazing Mets, Nixon in the White House, Woodstock, and the year I graduated from Will Rogers High in Tulsa, Oklahoma.(Not to say my graduation was of historical significance; just establishing time and place.)

A few years ago marketers were leveraging the 40th anniversary of 1969 with special edition books, album reissues, and another movie: “Taking Woodstock: A Generation Began in His Backyard.”

Apparently those who didn’t come of age in this era have grown weary of hearing about it all; especially Woodstock.

I was not at Woodstock: the event, but was immersed in the culture of it all, in a pseudo-hippie sort of way. That is to say, I did have all that was de rigueur of the persona: tattered jeans, with their own story if I might add (made that way by hard wear, not the fictional, faux-worn jeans stacked on department store shelves these days), the beads and leather bands, even the Volkswagen Bus. However, fear and good old-fashioned Southern Baptist guilt kept me safely removed from the drugs and free love (to a large degree).

One credo of the day was, “Don’t trust anyone over 40!” Here I am at 62 and my unspoken credo is now, “Don’t trust anyone under 40!” 

A word to those under 40: can you allow us geezers just a few more months of nostalgia? After all, if “they” are to be believed, Woodstock and all was my generation's “defining moment.”

I like to sail. One of the oldest and most trusted navigational methods is called dead reckoning. This is where you take what is called a fix on a known, determined location. Then using a watch and compass you can estimate where you are at any time by advancing that position.

It works great if you were correct about your original fix (or defining moment), and if you’ve reckoned your time, direction, and speed correctly.

No doubt those of us at a certain age remember those days better than they were. You will probably do the same with your wonder years. And, if I’m not misunderstanding the wisdom of Ecclesiastes, there is a danger is this exercise:

Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions. Ecclesiastes 7:10 NIV.

So in an attempt to avoid that pitfall, but wanting to define my defining moment, here’s what the summer of ’69 did for me. I did learn to question authority (a key component of the culture), and in doing so, I worked out my own faith and worldview.

Enough reminiscing for now, because in the sage advice of the namesake of my alma mater:

"Don’t let yesterday use up too much of today." – Will Rogers

My Father-In-Law the Ass Man

Remember the Seinfeld episode where Kramer mistakenly received a new car tag from the DMV that said "ASS MAN"? It's season 6, episode 20, entitled: "The Fusilli Jerry," so called because Kramer crafts a likeness of Jerry out of fusilli pasta. Turns out the intended recipient of the tag was a proctologist (a word that always makes me squirm in my chair a bit). Kramer has a lot of fun being the Ass Man until the tag mess is cleared up.

My father-in-law, E.J., was a man of well-thought through philosophies. That sounds so much better than saying he was opinionated, right?

I attribute this to the long hours he spent every single day with his girls which numbered near 100, all of which he could recognize better from the backside than the front. He was a dairy farmer and twice each day, beginning in the wee hours of the morning, he would pat these old cows on the rump while placing a milking machine on their full utters then watching the milk flow through glass tubes in to a stainless steel tank. You give a guy hours a day looking at the asses of cows and he's going to develop a worldview.

One of the things I've looked forward to in the aging process is getting my license to be opinionated and to share my high and mighty view whenever two or three are gathered together. Even though I told myself as a young man, I would never become some cranky, narrow-minded old fart. Maybe it's just that with the passage of time we become more confident in the strength of our convictions.

Now I've promised myself I would, at least on this blog, try to avoid the the opinion-triggers like politics, religion and NCAA conference alignments. So this post is really just my reflection about having and expressing opinions, and being judicious about it because after all opinions are like asses--we all have one. So the quandary is how to have one and not be one.

Are you an ass; man?