Sermons in Stones

Catching up on taiko ~ Treehouse retreat ~ Advice for the Spiritually Perplexed and Vexed

Even on sabbatical, I have a schedule of things that happen every week. I Zoom with my mom on Mondays. I cook dinner on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I have a grad school class on Monday afternoon. I usually do art and piano every day. But it all goes out the window when the unscheduled event of The Crud comes along. For the past four days, I’ve been sick, and for most of that time, it meant I’ve been good for very little else. Walking up the stairs and eating a little dinner is so exhausting that a nap is required afterwards. Hey, that’s how human bodies deal with minor illnesses, and I’m just glad that there is little I have to do that can’t be put off in favor of a nap. Sunday was the day I felt the worst, so I was acutely grateful not to have to lead a service; I had a Texas congregation’s YouTube feed all cued up so I could attend the service, but between 7:50, when I logged on, and 8:00, when the service began, I ran out of energy.

So I haven’t logged on here to report on recent doings. Catchup time.

The taiko class ended with a day for families to come and see what we’ve learned. That was fun–Munchkin said the role reversal was cool, though honestly, she already sees me and Joy do things that are new to us all the time–and also brought some vindication. Drumming is such a workout for the shoulders and arms, including some forearm muscles that I was not fully aware of possessing before now, that I cut “arm day” out of my gym schedule for the duration. As it was, each week my arms would be almost, but not quite, back to normal by the time class rolled around again. She couldn’t quite believe that it could take a week to recover from exertion, but then, she is 16 and works out, runs, and/or goes rock climbing daily. After we played for the audience, they were invited to come try it out, something that Munchkin of course leapt up to do. I showed her the proper form and she did it quite well, and after several minutes of drumming, observed, “I see what you mean about the arms.” Ha!

My retreat at the treehouse was lovely. I drew, painted, collaged and wrote by day, and read mysteries and constructed crossword puzzles in bed during the early night. When you don’t have much electric light, bedtime is 8 pm. There’s a little pond there, and I tried mightily, and pretty unsuccessfully, to paint the subtle yellows and greens of the duckweed that covered the surface. Although I couldn’t see any fish or frogs, I could hear animal life under the water: little gurgles and swishes. Occasionally the surface was broken by something that rose for a moment and left dark, clear water where it had been for a few moments. Deer browsed in the field on the first evening, and I watched them for a long time, and drew them too. I was glad I did, because they didn’t come back at subsequent dawns or dusks, as I’d hoped they would. I heard an owl calling during the night. Our house is near two freeways and the background of traffic is never entirely gone, so the silence from which animal sounds could emerge was special.

As I noted last week, I launched Ask Isabel, the spirituality and religion advice column that I’d been mulling since the spring. During our travels this summer, I did research, made the website, and started writing. The second column posted today: Can a Christian and a Muslim make a life together? I hope you’ll check it out, and subscribe if you’d like to receive it via e-mail every Tuesday. And of course, please share the link with anyone you think would enjoy it.

As I said in my introductory letter, a lot of people have big problems and questions connected to spirituality and religion, and liberal-religious voices aren’t heard nearly enough in the responses, even though we could be of great help. Not surprisingly, many seekers conclude that the choices are some kind of fundamentalism, or nothing. That’s sad. If “Ask Isabel” can offer something to people who might never cross the threshold of a congregation but still have these pressing questions, I will be very happy.

I’d love to post some recent art, but I’ve used up my allotted energy again. Nap time.

It is exactly 50 years since September 11, 1973, when the United States government helped topple and kill the democratically elected president of Chile, Salvador Allende, in order to install a dictator more to its liking.

In his 17-year rule, Augusto Pinochet had over 3,000 of his countryfolk murdered and tens of thousands more tortured, and the specter of Chile was felt wherever the CIA and US flexed their muscles, as they often did, during those decades. I wonder what Chile, South America, Latin America, and the United States’s relationship with these countries would be like today if not for that coup.

Some years–those ending in a 1, especially–I think a lot about September 11, 2001. And some years, that earlier 9/11 dominates my thoughts.

Yes, I definitely enjoy this medium more than the acrylics I used for the first version. I’m not sure whether that’s because I prefer a stick of pigment to a brush, or oils to acrylics, or both, I’d have to try brush painting with oils to find out. I have oil paints, but it’s been a long time since I used them (since high school? Can it be that long?), and I balk at the thought of all that mess. Turpentine, feh.

My dad has painted with water-mixable oils–I had never heard of them until he mentioned them, and still find the concept a little wild–and if I really do decide to do some oil painting, I might get a tube or two and try those. But for now, I am loving oil pastels.

With some trepidation, I share this piece in a rough state, only half-dressed, as it were. It’s all part of my self-therapy to heal from perfectionism.

Having opened my mail to a headline that made me literally cry out, “Oh, god, no!,” I just sent this to my Congresswoman.

Dear Ms. Pelosi,

I am extremely distressed that you are running for re-election. We have effectively been deprived of one of our senators for several years; Kentucky is now in the same boat. With all due respect, Ms. Pelosi: it is unwise, and deeply unfair to us your constituents, to seek to remain in office until your 86th year. If for no other reason than leaving while your abilities and dignity are intact, instead of after aides have to vote for you, speak for you, and gently usher you from the room when you are trying to do your job, please retire now, on your own terms.

It is tempting to think of oneself as indispensable. But none of us is. Another fine leader will represent San Francisco, just as others did before you entered politics. Please make room for them now.

Everyone up and down not only California, but the country, is saying of Senator Feinstein, “Isn’t it sad that she served so faithfully for so long, and that instead of her accomplishments, what we will remember is how she hung on when she was deep in dementia?” Is that how you want your career in public service to end?

Sincerely,

Rev. Amy Zucker Morgenstern