Osler's Razor

Advent calls us to do something I am terrible at: to still ourselves. I am someone who usually has a lot going on, often at the same time. That tumult to me is blood coursing through my veins, keeping me alive. But I know that there are times to be quiet and wait. So I struggle to do that, and sometimes I succeed.

Last week, I went for a walk and looked in through a window in a house. There was a kitchen and a little living area with a couch. A woman was chopping something in the kitchen, and a man was reading a book to a child on the couch. I tried not to stare, but it was compelling. It was their home; they were doing the things you do at home. As I reflected later--in a moment of quiet--on that scene, my mind went someplace unexpected. I suppose that does happen when we still ourselves.

It was this: One thing we don't know anything about is Jesus's house as an adult. Isn't that kind of weird? He traveled a lot, of course, and is often described visiting others and staying with them, but not until this week did I even wonder if he had a home and what it would have been like. When he retreats to quiet, it is to the wilderness. When he dines with others, it is at someone else's house (ie, Martha and Mary) or outside (the breakfast in John 21) or in a kind of meeting hall (the Upper Room).

I suppose he might have been homeless, in a strict sense.

Or, I suppose, in just the normal sense.

And that changes everything, doesn't it?

How much lower could Jesus's status have been? Homeless, poor, at odds with the religious authorities, without possessions to speak of, at one point an infant whose parents sought asylum, and eventually imprisoned and killed-- that is the position God gave to his son.

Shouldn't that tell us what it is that is important, where virtue can be found? Or, at least, what we should not scoff at and denigrate?

To those who think that the worthy are marked by wealth: why, then, is this our savior?

Some readers have noted, correctly, that I have not joined in the many tributes to former president George H.W. Bush. I suppose I will just say that this is not the right time for me to honestly state my feelings about his legacy in those areas that are important to me.

However, I realize that some others have memories or feelings for which this is the right time to put it out there. Please do, in the comment section below.

I wish there was some kind of breaking news--First Step Act passes the Senate!--but there really isn't. There is some movement, though...

The bill now has 28 co-sponsors in the Senate, evenly split between Republicans and Democrats. Here is the complete list:

So, I can vouch for IPLawGuy's claim, since I have had to stop him from reading a book while he is driving a car:


Anywhere with light
Bathroom, airplane, subway, gym
Wish I had more time.

Christine's seems about right for someone like her who spends a lot of time in Florida:

A poolside lounge chair
On a sunny afternoon
A book and a nap.

And, as usual, it is hard to argue with the Silly American!

Under or atop
My fluffy down comforter
Natural light's best.

Of all the liturgical seasons, Advent is singular. I love the quietness of it-- if we allow it-- and the gentle moments it allows. 

This year, there is something different, too. I have been, like many people, disappointed by what I see in Christianity. Publicly, we are awash of Christian embrace of the deeply problematic Donald Trump, a continuing sex scandal in the Catholic church which makes it imperative for the church to make changes it resists, and the numbers of my fellow-believers continue to fall.

It is a good time for quiet reflection, isn't it?

And those who know me know that for me, quiet reflection is not a permanent state. It precedes and inspires action. That is the cycle we saw in Christ's story, wasn't it? Withdrawal and reflection followed by engagement and action.

And both are important.

We all have one: a favorite place to read. It might be just the right chair, or a couch, or maybe a place-- a cabin, or the beach. Let's haiku about that this week.

It's very comfy
And Jack White upholstered it
(Don't mess with legend).

Now it is your turn! Just use the 5/7/5 syllable formula, and have some fun!

I found this headline (in the NY Times) pretty alarming: Investigators Raid Offices of President of US Catholic Bishops. It's just another chapter in the never-ending sexual abuse and cover-up scandal in the Catholic church. This time around the focus is on Cardinal Daniel DiNardo of Houston, who is the President of the Bishops' conference and who is alleged to have assigned a Priest to work in a parish despite prior allegations of abuse. The police felt they needed to raid the Cardinal's offices because of suspicions he was hiding records related to that Priest.

There are at least five parts to this scandal, which has engulfed Catholic Dioceses all over the country (and the world):

-- The initial abuse by priests
-- The failure of the Church to investigate allegations of abuse
-- The re-assignment of Priests credibly accused of abuse to new positions in the church rather than removal from the priesthood.
--  The failure to cooperate with or initiate outside investigations.
--  The pervasive attitude of "Let's move on" when the scandals have not been thoroughly investigated and the truth made known.

The "Let's just move on" take on things, where internal investigations are forgone or dropped, priests shuffled around, and secrecy maintained, has not worked well for the church. Mostly, it has ensured that instead of a few years of tragedy and pain, this scandal will consume an entire generation of the church. It's a terrible choice.

Nice haiku on leftovers, everyone (and I want to get lunch from Gavin's mom sometime), but I wasn't quite sure what Christine was talking about:

Looking forward to
turkey meets Asian salad
a la Bang Bang style

Can someone explain it to me?