Category: People

AKMA writes about his 16th anniversary of being a priest:

Much of the difference I experience can be attributed very simply to the social construction of identity: people treat a priest differently from the way they treat a generally-pious person graduate school. (One day, a muffler shop even gave me a clergy discount.) Some of the difference resists reduction to social roles and expectations though, some of the difference surprises me and eludes me and still unnerves me.

It’s odd, but I never see AKMA as a priest. I see a man who sometimes gets weighed down by the troubles that beset those around him; who probably cares more than he ought to at times; who is tolerant; who loves his family with a devotion that, oddly, gives me hope (and makes me a bit envious at times). Who stubbornly looks for the best in us, when we just as stubbornly only show our worst.

It’s true that in addition to the above AKMA is also devout, compassionate, and intelligent—all of which can be seen as priestly behaviors I suppose. But AKMA also has a wicked sense of humor, can bite back when bitten, has a fascination with technology and its impact on communication, and has no hesitation in cutting loose and being just plain silly at times. This tends to jar my pre-conceived image of priest.

No, I just don’t see the priest. I see the man who has made choices in his past that have carved out the person we know today. If his actions are the actions of a Man of God, then I would say that AKMA has really been a Man of God since the day he was born.

(BTW, did I happen to mention that he wears a funny collar at times?)

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

I’m tired and should go to bed. Today was not one of my better days.

However, my cat sensed that my day was poor and quietly curled up my arms, rubbing her head against my chin, purring like mad. I took her for a walk on our deck, and she now thinks I’m better than catnip.

Then I watched my new copy of the extended version of Lord of the Rings, a present from my roommate. The MTV re-make of the Elvish council was a hoot. When I got to the scenes where the characters were speaking Elvish, I turned to my roommate and proudly said, “I know the wife of the person responsible for the Elvish speech”.

“You know Hugo Weaving’s wife?”

I explained that, no, Dorothea’s husband David was the linguist responsible for the Elvish speech throughout the movie. I hope Dorothea will be pleased to know that my roomie was far more impressed at this association then he would have been had I known Hugo Weaving’s wife.

Recovered from the Wayback Machine.

Shannon writes, people are mean in response to a particularly nasty posting and related comments. She’s right: people can be mean, practicing random acts of meanness.

Sometimes, the acts are deliberate — nasty little cuts inflicted from the safety and distance that this disconnected environment provides. Mostly, though, the acts aren’t deliberate as much as they are accidental. Acts of humor become perceived acts of humiliation; a simple action of no consequence becomes a deep and painful wound.

The acts become warped and bent by our unusual perspective. We’re no different than a group of people standing in a room, each person facing a different direction with our backs to each other, and each shouting at the walls as loudly as possible: CAN YOU HEAR ME!

Yes! But I can’t hear you!

How can we possibly know or fully understand what will trigger pain or anger given this environment?

edited: It is true that people can practice random acts of meanness. What caused me to withdraw and isolate last week was one random act and what brought me back today was another. Yet, act of what? In addition to meanness, people also practice random acts of humor, love, arrogance, friendship, indifference, sadness, anger, despair, hope, joy, gladness, generosity, and even nobility. Unfortunately, sometimes when viewed through the quicksilver folds of this medium, these acts can also be viewed as mean.

Rosa Parks, the heart of the civil rights movement, died at her home Monday.

When the KKK tried to adopt part of the I-55 freeway outside of St. Louis under the highway cleanup adoption plan, which would force the state into acknowledging the group’s effort with a sign, the Highway Department responded by naming that stretch of the freeway the “Rosa Parks” freeway. Every time I head down south, I see that sign and I’m reminded that the civil rights movement didn’t stop when the Civil Rights Act was passed in 1964.

Fifty years ago, by quietly refusing to give up her seat to a white man on the bus, Mrs. Parks taught us that the fight for equality is just that: a fight. A struggle. True equality does not come about by compromise and complacency–something to remember, because the struggle still continues.