Canon Dale Owen Speaks

FOXNews.com - Foxlife - Out There - German Couple Finds Out Stork Isn't Real: "He went on to explain that each of the pair had been brought up extremely religiously and had never heard of the birds and the bees.
'We are not talking retarded people here,' the clinic spokesman said. The two 'were simply unaware, after eight years of marriage, of the physical requirements necessary to procreate.' "

This is the religion of the Heston. No one at Saint Chads would have that problem, though we don't believe in having children either. Our infertility is infertility of the will and not of the Heston.

Sister Seligman will not leave me alone. Today, once again, I saw her outside a local strip mall. I was there protesting its existence, when she drove into the parking area. She got out of the car and I confess my heart missed a beat. What does that mean? I am distressed to imagine. Could I be attracted to the simplicity of her budding fundamentalist beliefs?

It could be. You see, dear reader, I miss her. I miss our trips to the beach to protest the displacement of sand from its natural home. I miss the way she looked when I played the bongo drums at a high liturgy. I miss the flip of her hair after she dismissed a "pig" at a nuclear power protest. I miss Sister Seligman.

Betty.

Her first name is Betty. She is not just Sister Seligman. She is Betty. I have never called her Betty.

What can I do? I think Betty has joined an "evangelical" church. She is lost to me. How can I betray Phyla?

MSNBC - Gay couples exchange vows in Massachusetts

What of those of us who love a plant?

A Patriot's Pledge

I pledge allegiance to the community of man
and to my little place in it, called by some the United States.
I apologize for our errors brought on by abuse of power.
I am for everyone being free to follow their bliss, except where they wish to stand in the way of others doing the same. I am for democracy and for judges who find that democratic will. We are each individuals in one global village, each sovereign to self. Nothing can take me away from my own self to whom I will be true. With freedom and justice for all beings on Mother Gaia.

Hurrah!

The Hat

(A poem from today's homily)

Canon Rev. Dale Owen

Baby Bonnet
Forced to be Pink
or Blue
Baseball cap
Forwards
Then Backwards
Helmet
March says the Man.
Flat hat
graduate
marching in a line.
Then cap
that says Joe's
Service Station.
Hat marked
with Master's Sign.
Work, work, work.
Then Die.
No hat
in coffin.
Bare head
Like Baby.

Not too late
Mr. Man
to rip off their hat
and put on own cap
and live
as meant
to live
knowing
most important hat
is hat in
heart.

The people of Iraq continue to face the horror of American occupation. Once Iraq had a government of people born in Iraq. Today, like the rest of us, they are ruled by an unelected Bush government. Once their prisons were run by people born in Iraq. Today they are abused by American soldiers in the pay of the army of occupation. Iraq was imperfect, but Iraq was free. Freedom in other countries is being free of the US. Most of all, it was free of the stench of the Bush, imperialist, Starbucks driven forces! The only important freedom is the freedom to be free of Bush!

Every crime, every abuse that happens today in Iraq is our fault. Yesterday, I was standing in a mall and someone in front of me said, "It is good that Sadaam is gone at least." And I said, "What do you know of this? Do you know that in the last election Sadaam got almost all the vote?"

"But wasn't the vote rigged?"

"At least their Supreme Court did not have to fix the vote for their pet candidate."

"I don't see how Bush compares to a man who killed millions. . ."

"How do you know Sadaam killed millions? Did you know that the Iraqi constitution was one of the most free in the Arab world?"

"But it was a dead letter Sadaam did whatever he wanted with his monster sons. . ."

"That is the Arab way. You must learn to understand other cultures."

He looked at me without comprehension. I had a flash of insight: "You listen to talk radio, don't you?"

"Well, yes. I have. At times, but. . ."

"Yes," I said sadly, "that explains much. You see, fellow American, talk radio has been a hurricane to the windmill of your mind."

Vote Kerry. Vote for the freedom for Iraq to be ruled by Arabs in the Arab way. (If you say to me that the people of Iraq are not Arabs, then I say you are a racist. They are not Arabs of blood, but of the heart. In solidarity with them, I am an Arab.)

A caller after my epic struggle with the Avatar of Hate asked why I spoke of Mary Magdalene. You could hear the oppression in her voice as she robotically spoke words programmed into her. This is my answer to her, though if she wants a “fictionalized” account she should read The Davinci Code. The truth is out there, young lady.

Of course, one word about fiction is in order. All books are fiction. Each of us tells a story from our own point of view. So called historical books are just fiction with footnotes. We all “make up” the story that best expresses our take on reality. In that sense, the Bible is true, but so is Holy Koran and Cat in the Hat. In fact, many of us would be better off living our lives based on Dr. Suess than most of the ideas we got from our mess up parents. Truth is what you say it is. That is the key to living the good life.

The Old Testament once spoke openly of the female deity, call her Sophia, if you will. Then under Constantine around 300 A.D., the entire Bible was rewritten to make only the male Heston figure dominate. This allowed the Romans, already declining into barbarism, to feel better about their loss of power. In a display of phallic insecurity now all too common, they oppressed women to give themselves power. The next time you meet a Heston-follower ask them this question: “Why are there no copies of your Bible from before 300 AD that in King James English with all your little Scofield notes in them?” Afraid of true scholarship, they will back away. You might frighten them, but by that save them.

In any case, the Church has been lying about Mary Magdalene for centuries. They repressed her true history, because she is a woman. No woman of importance is left in the entire Bible after the Heston cult got done with it! You can prove this for yourself: in Genesis 1, the Heston is still allowed to speak of “himself” as We. Where is Sophia?

Now some anal “Biola” student or other follower of the Avatar of Hate will soon write and point out that my facts are wrong. I admit that I made much of this up. So what! I like it and liking it is what makes a thing good. How is what I am saying different from any so-called evangelical Christian who finds new ways of reading the Bible to justify his change in the "historic" faith? These “liberal” evangelicals (think of that half-way house Tony Campolo) simply lack the courage to make up more and fix the whole Heston mess.

Some of you should know that today I roused my courage and called the avatar of hate, Frank Pastore. I confronted him with his perversion of Christianity. Eventually, he hung up on me and then claimed I hung up on him. This is a wicked man.

The Revival

We swayed to the music. We danced to the beat of our hearts. The glory of self-justification filled each person as he or she looked at the person next to them and thought: “I am glad I am me.”

Sister Alcinous began to laugh softly to herself. “I see,” she said.

“What is it that you see, dear sister?” I said with my normal pastoral care.

“I see that my buying Starbucks was good. Good for me. And that makes it o.k.”

Brother Mavity replied, “I see that to me Starbucks is evil and that you Sister Alcinous are also evil. I accept that you are not me and that it is too bad for you.”

“Very good, both of you.” I said with the wisdom gained from a life well spent, “Both of you understand that what is true for you is true for you. What is not true for you may be true for someone else. Here at Saint Chad’s we only exclude to include and coffee cannot be that sort of thing.”

Sister Seligman spoke from the back, where she had been lurking. “But how can we all be right about mutually contradictory things?”

It was then that a very wise child spoke out. His name? I blush to say that Dale (!) Mavity, my namesake and godpal said, “Sister Seligman is like the bad ducks who protested Duckie.”

We stopped in wonder at this wise little child. “Out of the mouths of babes,” I said at just the right moment.

“Who are you calling a babe?” Sister Alcinous said with some heat.

“I forgive myself.” I said. “I meant the young child has spoken true worlds.”

We turned our backs to Sister Seligman who turned red from shame at her marginalizing words.

“At this church,” I proclaimed with joy, “Starbucks is forbidden and Starbucks is welcome.”

The party began and it has not ended yet. Our joy is our strength.

I hope all of you have learned a lesson from this story. Our horizons must broaden to include the viewpoint of both of our eyes.

(I should comment that a reader has noted that I stereotyped doves and serpents in the last column. This is true and I forgive myself for it. Of course, doves can sometimes be wise and serpents gentle.)

The congregation stood before me paralyzed by hatred and confusion. The Starbucks issue had left them in chaos. I stood before them and said, "Once there was a small duck. This duck swam and played every day in a big pond called Chad. Every day Duckie, as she was called, would paddle and splash. The other ducks did not like this splashing. They would moan and groan. Soon one of the ducks decided to picket Ducky. He made a great big sign that said, 'Duckie is not my friend.' Other ducks followed his lead. One got a sign that said, 'Duckie is Other.' A third wrote, 'Duckie is Quackers.' Soon the pond was divided. Some of the kinder and older ducks reached out to Duckie. They wondered why hatred had to divide their golden pond. Of these ducks, many were sensitive and began to write epic poetry defending Duckie, the best of which was called, Duckie Weep Not . Finally, one day Duckie was run over by a truck that had come to dump toxic waste in the pond. All the ducks were sad, but it was too late for the truck had placed waste from a local fast food joint into their fragile ecosystem. They grew fatter and fatter from the waste placed in the water. Finally, one of the ducks that had picketed Duckie said, 'We are soon to die. But to die, to sleep, the problem is: what dreams may come of Duckie and our failing to allow her to play with us?' All the ducks saw that this was very true. Soon their bloated bodies floated silently on the golden pond. No one was right. Everyone was dead"

What does this mean? Brothers, sisters, and differently sexed: we must be as wise as serpents and as gentle as doves. We must remember that "many are called and few are chosen." We are all that little duck. We are all the other ducks. Like the keys on a piano keyboard, black and white, we make music best only when we are played by two hands."

A hush fell in the sanctuary. Someone began softly weeping. The bells began to ring in some distant steeple. I grasped the hand of the person near me and began to sing: "Kumbayah, My Lord." Good times. Good times.




Tomorrow: The Revival Begins