Friday Funnies: It's Gettin' Hot Out there, Folks

____________________

Cartoon from The New Yorker magazine by David Sipress



-

Why Pray?

Prayer can take many forms. There is the urgent plea for help or guidance, there is the quiet prayer of thanks whispered at day’s end or when family is gathered. There are prayers of confession, prayers of praise and adoration. Private prayers and public prayers may take the form of petition, praise or gratitude.

Some will ask, why pray? Is there really a God to pray to, or if there is, why do we imagine that God is listening? Does prayer make a difference in what happens in our lives and in the world?

For me, it is important to gather with others in prayer. I do not imagine that I am bringing my case before God in an attempt to change the mind of the divine or to coerce supernatural intervention. Participating in the public prayers of the church, however, is a way for me to bring myself into a deeper consciousness of what God’s own concerns may be for the human community in which I live. 

Mending Battered Sails

I discovered liturgical prayer at a time when I had been battered by circumstances and unsure of which way to turn. Ironically, it was religious life that had left me battered. I was a graduate of Golden Gate Baptist Seminary and had just completed a two-year missionary assignment teaching English at Hong Kong Baptist College.

During my entire four years of college and three years of seminary, my Southern Baptist denomination had been enduring its own “culture war” which some of my colleagues refer to as “the religious wars.” Those with a conservative fundamentalist orientation within the Southern Baptist Convention were highly displeased with the state of higher education, especially of what they viewed as liberal trends in seminary education.

By the time I returned to the States after two years overseas, the fundamentalists had successfully wrested control of the denomination. I found a church where I no longer had any hopes of making a spiritual home. Leaving meant severing possibilities of serving in the profession in which I had been trained, but staying would have created far too much dissonance. Since I had become acquainted with an Anglican priest in Hong Kong who had once been a Baptist, I decided to explore the Episcopal Church to see if there were any possibilities for me there.

A New Language

I discovered in the small Anglo-Catholic Episcopal parish of St. Andrew’s in Birmingham an ancient liturgy that opened up a new world of faith for me. Having been raised in a non-liturgical tradition, I saw the ancient liturgy of the church as a new language for worship. In order to learn all that I could, I committed myself to the liturgical life of the Church. I made the conscious decision to become a learner. I was committed to learn a new language of worship and to proceed as if I did not even know how to pray.

In the months that followed, I began to find some healing and inner re-structuring as I allowed myself to be shaped and guided by the liturgical prayers of the church. I would say that I found a spiritual formation by way of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer. The beautiful prayers I heard and took part in throughout the liturgical year increased my awareness of God’s own concern for those who struggle, those who suffer, and those who seek justice.

I heard collects invoke the presence of God, as in “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known and from you no secrets are hid.” Ancient prayers such as Phos Hilaron (O Gracious Light) became new and rich for me. When I sang the Gloria and the Sanctus with the congregation during the Sunday liturgy, I was praying ancient prayers that connected me with that “great cloud of witnesses” who have stood to say those words of praise for hundreds of years (and who continue to say them in all of the liturgical congregations today). 

During the prayers of the church, I was brought with the community into awareness of those in trouble or in prison. My heart was drawn to people who suffer in body, mind or spirit. I was reminded in the context of prayer to reverence the earth and to care for it. I became aware of the holy task of those who fight for justice, freedom, and peace. All of this happened within the community at prayer.

Throughout the liturgical cycle of the year, there were seasons of joy and seasons of sadness; times for repentance and times of affirmation. There were days of fasting and days of feasting. Community prayers were there in the midst of worship to guide us in our grieving, in our waiting, and in our moments of celebration.

Why do we pray? I learned that when I allowed the liturgy to pull me away from my limited frame of reference, I came into a larger awareness of what the presence of God means. I gained further insight into what the reign of God entails. My prayer life was expanded. By participating with the praying community, concerns I might not have considered were brought to mind. Even the cosmic presence of Christ as sustainer of the world became a cause for celebration. 

Praying with Grace

Last Sunday when I visited my friends at Grace Episcopal Church, I was reminded once again of why we pray. During the Prayers of the People, the worshiping community there made use of some intercessions from The Church of England’s Common Worship: Times and Seasons. In the Episcopal Church, there are six basic forms in the prayer book to select from for the Prayers of the People during the liturgy. Using a different form was an enriching change, but the beauty and the content of the prayer was a wonderful illustration of how prayer can draw us into an awareness of how we are called to participate in doing the things that God does. 
 
Here are the prayers as prayed at Grace last Sunday:

The Prayers of the People

Upon the rich earth send a blessing, O Lord.

Let the earth be fruitful

and its resources be hallowed.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Prosper the work of our hands;

may all find dignity and just reward in their work;

free the exploited and oppressed.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Guide us into a sustainable future,

and give us the will to share the fruits of the world.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Teach us to cherish the water of the earth,

and to conserve the seas, lakes and rivers.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Where the earth is parched and the well has run dry;

where war brings want, and children go hungry;

where the poor cry out for bread and for justice,

give hands to care and heal, and compel us to be generous.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

We ask you to hear us, good Lord,

for the sake of your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

(Adapted from the Church of England’s Common Worship)


When you find yourself wondering why we bother to pray in this muddled world we live in, consider how we can be enriched, encouraged, and formed by the prayers that we engage ourselves in.

                                     

 -

Monday Music: Jokerman (Bob Dylan)

In honor of Bob Dylan's 78th birthday last Friday (May 24)

"Jokerman" is from his Infidels album, one of Dylan's best albums in my opinion. He is tapping into some deep images and symbols here. Is he speaking as poet or prophet? Is he being playful or serious? Or would you say it is "all the above?"

-

What is Memorial Day to You?

This essay was originally posted in 2010. I'll be working on Memorial Day because hospitals must operate 24/7 and Monday is one of my days to be on duty. 

I hope you will take some time to reflect on ways we can remember past wars without instigating new ones. War always wreaks untold havoc when we unleash it.

I don’t recall much being made of Memorial Day when I was growing up. It was barely on my radar. I suppose there were Memorial Day sales, but as a holiday it was not high up on the list. Several years ago, Alison, a young colleague at work started talking about her childhood memories of Memorial Day. “I was always excited about the holiday because I would get brand new clothes. My mamma would always take me shopping. She would tell me, ‘We were going out to get your Memorial Day dress.’ That was the big thing about Memorial Day.” She was a young African American woman talking to me and Kevin, another colleague who was white. Kevin and I looked at one another in mild amusement. We had never heard of such a Memorial Day tradition.

“You mean ya’ll didn’t get new clothes on Memorial Day?”

Kevin and I said no we didn’t.

“I wonder if my mamma was just telling me that. I sure thought new clothes were a Memorial Day tradition.”

It got to my young black colleague so that she went to another black co-worker to ask her about it. Alison returned later with a big smile on her face. "I asked Phyllis about it – she said it was a black thang.” We all three laughed about it.

That incident led me to ponder how and what we remember, and how we mark special days of observance. A quick look at the history of Memorial Day reveals the difference in how I, Kevin, and Alison had grown up observing the holiday. Memorial Day first came to be observed to commemorate Union soldiers who died in the Civil War. After World War I it became a day to honor Americans who have died in all wars. In my white southern heritage, Memorial Day had no strong observance because it was not a thing that my white ancestors would have particularly wanted to honor or remember. To our black neighbors’ ancestors, however, Memorial Day would have signified a new beginning, new hope and opportunity (even though it took 100 more years for Civil Rights to be enacted). It makes perfect sense that our black neighbors would have celebrated with new clothes for a new beginning.

How then should we observe the day in the 21st century, after so many other wars have given us so many other soldiers killed in the service of our country? On Memorial Day it is certainly fitting to remember those soldiers who have paid the ultimate price for our country. It is also fitting to be thankful for the freedom we enjoy in this country. We would be remiss, however, if we did not pause to consider the price all of our soldiers pay during wartime. Rather than glorifying the fight, we should consider what our brave soldiers actually endure. We do not honor our soldiers by holding on to fantasies about the glories of war. By really understanding what it is we ask our soldiers to do, perhaps we would not be so quick to enter into armed conflict.

Nancy Sherman of Georgetown University writes of the invisible wounds of war in an article, "What Good Soldiers Bear". The article appeared in America magazine and was written after interviews with soldiers fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. Well stated and insightful, I recommend the article which you can find by clicking here.

For another reflection on the origins of Memorial Day, check out this 2011 op-ed piece in the New York Times, Forgetting Why We Remember, by David W. Blight.


_______________________

Photo by Mark Wilson (Getty Images)



-

Saturday Haiku: Dylanesque

In honor of Bob Dylan's Birthday yesterday, here is a haiku inspired by a painting by Dylan himself:

a distant railway

traces of Woody and Pete

songs that stir the soul

                                               ~ CK















________________________
Image: Train Tracks
Artist: Bob Dylan
Date: 2009
Medium: Acrylic



-

Bob Dylan's Birthday Blowin' In the Wind

In honor of Bob Dylan's birthday, here is perhaps his best known early hit. When Peter, Paul and Mary performed Blowing in the Wind in live concerts, Peter Yarrow would introduce the song saying, "This song asks nine questions. The answers to these questions could determine the fate of all of us in this next generation."

-

Friday Funnies: Steve Jobs & Shakespeare

-

Moroccan Chicken Pie

Here's another post from my archives (you'll find the original post under the "Recipes" tab at the top of my blog page).

I tried a version of this recipe over twenty years ago. Our daughter was just a toddler, and I found the recipe, as best I can recall, in Parents Magazine. I liked the dish. It's unique combination of sweet and savory spices along with the light and delicate crust made for a truly memorable dinner, but unfortunately, the magazine went out the door before I saved the recipe. Last year I took it upon myself to track down the recipe. I was sure that with the internet I would be able to find it. Unfortunately, after many internet searches under a variety of search phrases, I was unable to find it. I did find a recipe for Moroccan Chicken stew (tagine) that was excellent, but it wasn’t the dish I had made years ago.

I gave up my search for Moroccan chicken pie. Much to my surprise, however, just a couple of months later, the recipe found me! It was in January when our daughter was getting ready to drive back to grad school. She wanted to go by a clothing store to shop for a few things, so I strolled around the shop while she and my wife perused the clothing. Not many things are more boring to me than women’s clothing stores, but as I was strolling about, I notice on one of the shelves was a cookbook. Cookbooks I find interesting. The title was Fireside Feasts and Snow Day Treats by Ellen Parnavelas, published by Ryland Peters & Small (London).

I took the book down and thumbed through the pages. It was a beautifully photographed collection of recipes characterized as “indulgent comfort food for winter eating and entertaining.” As I looked through the edition, there on page 74 was a recipe for Moroccan chicken pie! I looked over the ingredients, and it appeared to be very near the recipe I remembered – perhaps the exact one, who knows? I cooked it last week on Valentine’s day and it was a great success. It was served with some rice pilaf, then on Sunday, we had leftovers with sides of barley and baked sweet potato. Both meals were exceptional! It was the taste I had been looking for, and my wife loved it as well. The filo dough crust gives it a light touch, not the heaviness that you get from a chicken pot pie with regular pie crust. 

I bought chicken thighs for the recipe from Whole Foods because we are trying to use only humanely raised meat when we do eat meat. Another good thing about the package of thighs was that they were already de-boned, saving me a step in the cooking/preparation process. I did make some slight variations. Instead of making one large pie, I used smaller baking dishes to make three pies (and gave one to a neighbor).  I did not bother with cutting a circle of filo dough to fit the pie pan. Fillo dough is tricky enough as it is. I simply sprayed the dish with cooking oil and then lay the filo dough out, one sheet at a time, spreading each sheet with melted butter and letting it hang over the edges. After filling the dishes, I folded over the overhanging dough, as described in the recipe, to make the top crust (I also added a few pieces of filo dough on top, still spreading with butter as I went).

One of the three small pies I made (about two servings)

Instead of the fresh coriander, I used about a teaspoon of ground coriander which I had on hand in the spice cabinet. The other change I made was to omit the garlic and cilantro, out of personal preference. My cooking time was reduced to around 20 minutes because I was using smaller dishes.



Here is the recipe as given in Fireside Feasts and Snow Day Treats by Ellen Parnavelas:

Moroccan chicken pie

Ideal for large gatherings or buffets, this is best when made in advance giving the flavours time to mingle. The filling can also be made into individual pies or pastries. Serve with a grated carrot salad and plenty of buttery couscous.

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 onion, grated
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons ground ginger
• ½ teaspoon turmeric
• a pinch of saffron threads
• 1 teaspoon paprika
• ½ teaspoon ground cumin
• ½ teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 garlic clove, crushed
• 8 chicken thighs, skin removed
• 40 g/ ½ cup raisins
• 35 g/ ½ cup flaked almonds
• a large handful of fresh coriander/cilantro leaves, chopped
• 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 270 g/9 ¾  oz. ready-made filo/phyllo pastry
• 2-3 tablespoons butter, melted
• sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

You will need a 24-cm / 9 ½ inch round baking dish or tart pan, greased

Serves 4-6

Preparation:

Heat the oil in a large saucepan over low heat. Add the onion and cook for 5-8 minutes, until just soft. Stir in the spices and garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the chicken and stir to coat in the spiced oil. Add 190 ml/ ¾ cup water and the raisins. Season generously with salt. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat, cover and simmer for about 20-30 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 190°C (375°F) Gas 5.

When the chicken is cool enough to handle, shred the meat and discard the bones. Return the meat to the cooking juices. Mix well, taste and adjust the seasoning. The mixture should be very moist but it should not be soupy. If there is a lot of liquid, return to the heat and cook to reduce slightly. Stir in the almonds, coriander/cilantro and lemon juice. Set aside.

To assemble, place 2 sheets of filo/phyllo on the work surface. Using the baking dish, cut out 2 circles of pastry to fit. Cover with a clean, damp dish towel and set aside. Line the sides of the dish with the remaining pastry, positioning each one with an overhang and not quite reaching the middle. Continue until the edge is covered with overhanging sheets of filo/phyllo. Brush the dish with melted butter and top with one of the pastry circles. Brush with more butter and top with the remaining circle.

Transfer the chicken mixture to the filo/phyllo -lined dish, spreading it evenly. Fold in the overhanging filo to part-enclose the filling, crinkling it as you go. Brush with melted butter.

Bake in the preheated oven for 30-40 minutes, until just golden. Serve warm or at room temperature.

-

Mother Earth (Neil Young)

Here's one from photographer Scott Wright's SWP Life Illuminated YouTube site. Scott Wright has put together his own photography with Neil Young's "Mother Earth" as the soundtrack. Wright states on the site:

An anthem to our Mother, Neil Young has put together such a beautiful piece of art with this music. A deep connection to Mother Earth and attention to the dangers that lurk for her (our) survival. Make no mistake that She is in charge, and if we make the choice to continue to abuse her, we will be the ones to suffer, along with many other species as collateral damage. 

It's time to wake up and listen to what the enlightened have been saying for Centuries. It's time to come to Unity Consciousness, it's time to realize (Real Eyes) that we are not only One with each other, but with all Creation and the entire Universe! We are Stardust, We are Golden, And we've got to get Ourselves, Back to the Garden! Literally! Peace, Love and Kindness will bring us together....Love and Light my friends!

-

Saturday Haiku: Foggy Morning

While I'm on hiatus, here is one from my archives:

in the morning fog

lake waters are cool and still

frogs become silent

______________________________
Photo: Foggy morning face off at Isle Royale National Park by Carl TerHaar


-

Friday Funnies: He'll Talk Now

A Great Veggie Burger for the Grill

Here's another post from my archives (you'll find the original post under the "Recipes" tab at the top of my blog page). Time to fire up the grill!

I saw it in The New York Times last week – a recipe for “The Ultimate Veggie Burger.” The recipe is by Melissa Clark. When I saw it, I wanted to try it, but there was just one problem. My daughter is vegan, and this recipe calls for eggs and cheese, both of which are by definition not part of a vegan diet. So I altered the recipe to make it vegan by using an egg substitute as well as a cheese substitute. I put all the ingredients together on Friday night, placed the mixture in the refrigerator overnight, then fired up the grill on Saturday.

Photo by Andrew Scrivani
for The New York Times

The results were great! It satisfied the vegan as well as the meat eaters in the family. My daughter said it had a texture that was better than any of the frozen varieties of vegetable patties available in the stores.  Everyone said that this recipe is worth making again. I am including Melissa Clark’s original recipe below, then I’ll tell you how I made it. There is even a video on You Tube if you want to see Melissa Clark making this recipe herself.
 

The Ultimate Veggie Burger

By Melissa Clark

You make a veggie burger because you want the hamburger experience without the meat. This one

delivers. It’s got a firm, beefy texture that takes on the char and smoke of the grill, but is adaptable

enough to cook inside on your stove. The enemy of a veggie burger is mushiness, which stems from a

high moisture content. To combat that, the very watery ingredients – mushrooms, tofu, beans and

beets – are roasted to both dehydrate them somewhat and intensify their flavors. Yes, the ingredient

list here is long; you need a diverse lot to make a good veggie burger. And each one adds something

in terms of flavor and/or texture. Garnish this any way you like, and don’t forget to toast the buns.

TOTAL TIME: 1½  hours, plus at least 2 hours to chill

INGREDIENTS

• 4 ounces extra-firm tofu, drained
• Olive oil
• 1 /2 pound cremini mushrooms, trimmed and sliced
• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt, more as needed
• Black pepper, as needed
• 1 (15-ounce) can kidney beans, drained
• 1 medium beet, peeled and coarsely grated (3/4 cup)
• 3/4 cup tamari almonds or cashews
• 1 /3 cup panko bread crumbs
• 2 ounces Cotija cheese or queso blanco, crumbled or grated (about 1 /2 cup)
• 2 large eggs
• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise
• 2 scallions, sliced
• 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 3/4 teaspoon dulce pimentón or sweet smoked paprika
• 4 ounces tempeh, crumbled
• 1 /2 cup cooked brown rice

PREPARATION

1. Heat oven to 425 degrees. Slice tofu into 1/4-inch-thick slabs and pat dry with paper towel.

   Arrange tofu on one half of a rimmed baking sheet; brush both sides with oil. Spread mushrooms

   on the other half of the baking sheet; toss with 2 tablespoons oil and salt and pepper.

2. On a second rimmed baking sheet, toss beans and grated beet with 1 tablespoon oil and salt and

    pepper, then spread the mixture into one layer.

3. Transfer both baking sheets to the oven. Roast bean-beet mixture, tossing occasionally, until

    beans begin to split and beets are tender and golden, about 15 minutes. Roast mushrooms and

    tofu until golden and most of the liquid has evaporated, about 25 minutes. Let everything cool.

4. Place nuts in a food processor and pulse until coarsely ground. Add cooled bean-beet mixture,

    mushrooms, tofu, panko, cheese, eggs, mayonnaise, scallion, garlic, pimentón and 3/4 teaspoon

    salt. Pulse until ingredients are just combined. Pulse in tempeh and rice but do not overprocess.

    You want small chunks, not a smooth mixture. Scrape mixture into a bowl and chill at least 2

    hours or up to 5 days (you can also freeze the burger mix).

5. When you are ready to make the burgers, divide mixture into 6 equal portions and form each

    portion into a patty about 1 inch thick. Return to the fridge until just before grilling. They grill

    better when they start out cold.

6. Heat the grill. Cook the burgers over a low fire until they are charred on both sides and firm

    when you press on them, 4 to 6 minutes per side. If they start to burn before they firm up, move

    them to the sides of the grill to finish cooking over indirect heat. Alternatively, you can cook these

    on a grill pan or in a skillet over low heat.

YIELD: 6 Burgers

*    *    *

When I made this recipe, I made two changes – I replaced the eggs and cheese to allow for a vegan diet. For the eggs, I used an egg substitute called Egg Replacer by Ener-G. I recently discovered this product at The Golden Temple Natural Grocery and Cafe on Birmingham's Southside and have had good success with it in baking. Eggs serve as a binder, and Egg Replacer uses potato starch and tapioca flour to do the same thing. For the cheese, I used a cheese substitute that I found in the supermarket in the vegetarian section (Go Veggie is the brand name) . The product is made of soy protein and claims to have the same melting and stretching qualities as cheese.

The burgers did fine on the outside grill. I cooked them a little longer than the recipe suggests, but I think that is because my grill is higher off the coals than some. The only word of caution I will add is that in my experience, the burgers sank a little bit below the grid on the grill. My first attempt at flipping a burger sheared of the portions that were below the grill spindles. I found that by moving the spatula parallel with the grill lines, I could lift the end of burger slightly and hold it up while I moved the spatula under the burger. With that adjustment in technique, the grilling proceeded with success.

[Addendum (July, 2016): In making my vegan version of these veggie burgers, I have found a better egg substitute -- chia seed. While the Ener- G Egg replacer is excellent for baking, chia seed does better for these burgers. Just use one tablespoon of ground chia seed mixed with 3 tablespoons of water (so for this recipe, I used 2 Tbls of chia seed in 6 Tbles of water). I used a mortar and pestle to grind them. Let it sit for about 5 minutes and you have a nice gel to add to the mix. Using chia seed not only added more nutrition to the burgers, it also made them firmer and easier to handle on the grill.]

-

Shady Grove (Doc Watson)

Some bluegrass music from the legendary Doc Watson

-

Revisiting Our Town (a Mother's Day Memory)

While I am on hiatus, here is one from my archives:

Fredonia State University of New York photo

It may have been the first play I ever saw and it is certainly my earliest recollection of live theater. I must have been around 7 years old. While I did not follow the story line at such a young age, it was all such a fascinating experience. I knew many of the actors who were in the senior class at Dadeville High School and I knew the director, Mary Kinnaird. She was the high school English teacher and she also happened to be my mother. The play was Our Town, by Thornton Wilder.

It must have been quite a big night for the town as well. I recall my mother saying years later that as they were working out the logistics she mentioned to the high school principal the matter of paying royalties out of the proceeds from the play. “Royalties?” he said with astonishment, “I never heard of doing a senior play that required paying royalties!” That became the routine, however, as my mother continued to produce the high school senior plays over the years. She guided future students in a variety of plays that included I remember Mama, Cheaper by the Dozen, You Can't Take It with You, and Pygmalion.

The Play is the Thing

Our Town was first performed in 1938 and found immediate success on Broadway, earning a Pulitzer Prize for Thornton Wilder. The play has had continued success down through the years as a classic American play. From that high school performance that I witnessed years ago, I was left with vivid memories.

Even though I saw the play at a very young age, I can still recall some of the scenes. I remember the stage manager who kept the audience informed about the action on stage, the paperboy delivering the morning news; I remember the actors using step ladders to simulate looking out upstairs windows in neighboring houses; and I remember the lovely Emily who was played by high school senior, Carol Jane Meigs. I can still see her in that white dress bidding a tearful good-bye to Grover’s Corners as she played the part of Emily.

                                                                                                                      

Perhaps the reason I have had Our Town on my mind is that Mother’s Day is approaching as well as my mother’s birthday. She would have been 95 years old on May 10 if she were still living.  I decided that I would honor my mother's memory by viewing the play that she directed so many years ago.

Since it is one of the most frequently performed plays in the country, I was hoping to find a recording of it.  Upon visiting the public library, I was excited to find a DVD recording of a 1996 production that had aired on Showtime and on PBS. It was directed by Joanne Woodward, and starred her husband, Paul Newman, as the stage manager. I happily checked out the DVD and viewed it a few days later when I had a quiet span of time to give to the viewing.

Set at the turn of the 20^th century, the play presents ordinary scenes from the lives of people in a small ordinary town, Grover’s Corners, in New Hampshire. In the words of the stage manager, “This is the way we were: in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and our dying.” As I watched the play unfold on the screen, I had another play going on inside my head. I was re-envisioning that spring night in 1962 when the Dadeville High School production took place. I loved the way the audience was drawn into the play at the bidding of the stage manager; I was intrigued by the minimalist stage setting which allowed closer attention to the conversation; and I was amazed that this very production had taken place in the small town of Dadeville, Alabama.

The Gift of Live Theater

With a population of around 3,000 people, my hometown of Dadeville was comparable to Grover’s Corners, which the play tells us had a population of 2,642. The people I knew growing up lived according to the customs of the day, not unlike the people depicted in Thornton Wilder’s play. As I watched the drama of Our Town play out, I realized that my mother’s production of the play was great gift. It was a gift to the graduating seniors to be involved in such a production and it was a larger gift to the community to give the people a chance to look thoughtfully at their lives for just a moment.

The stage manager put it this way: “Now there are some things we all know, but we don't take'm out and look at'm very often. We all know that something is eternal...everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. There's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being.”

In Act III, Emily, who had died in childbirth observed, “It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another.” She made that observation after having been given the chance to revisit the world for one day. She had chosen what she remembered as a happy day, her 12^th birthday.

“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it...every, every minute?” she asked while looking on her family’s interactions on the day she chose to return to life.

“No,” replied the stage manager, “saints and poets, maybe — they do some.”

“In Our Living and Our Dying”

I cannot say how the townsfolk reacted after that production of Our Town. I’m sure they all thought it was a nice play, and I’m sure parents were proud of the production that their high school children had accomplished. I have to think that some, at least, took time to reflect upon the life that they were living. I know that the actual lives of the actors played out in ways that were similar to the characters on stage. Some died too young; most went on to ordinary lives of marriages and mortgages. There were also disruptions that lay just ahead: the assassination of a president, the war in Vietnam, the civil rights struggle, Woodstock – all of these cultural markers of my generation were yet to be encountered by that small tight-knit community.

All of these years later, I am all the more impressed and thankful for the role my mother played in bringing good things to a small mill town in the South. One of the characters in Our Town said, “There isn't much culture...Robinson Crusoe and the Bible; Handel's 'Largo,' we all know that: and Whistler's 'Mother' -- those are just about as far as we go.” We didn’t have a lot of culture in our little town either, but there was one high school English teacher who brought gifts from Thornton Wilder, George Bernard Shaw, and other playwrights to enrich the lives of students and others in the community. 

In her annual production of those senior high school plays, my mother gave the town a few moments to listen to “the saints and the poets.” She enabled us all to ever so briefly recall the truth that “There's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being.”

-

Saturday Haiku: Raccoon

While I'm on hiatus, here is one from my archives

following humans

he wandered far from the peace

of a woodland stream

                                            

                                ~ CK

______________________

Photo from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

Public Domain

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

-

The Legacy of Jean Vanier

Jean Vanier shaking hands with one of the core members

 of L’Arche Daybreak, John Smeltzer, in October 2009.

(Photo by Warren Pot/Creative Commons)

It was my privilege to learn about Jean Vanier, his witness and his writings when I came to work at the St. Andrew's Foundation in Birmingham, Alabama, which drew it's inspiration form Vanier's L'Arche Community. Jean Vanier died this week (May 7) in Paris at the age of 90. You can read about him here.

The following essay was first posted in December of 2012 when I was telling the story of some of my encounters at St. Andrews. This interview with Francis Walter gives us a look at how he came to start a ministry for people with developmental disabilities.

The Reverend Francis Walter Talks about Life, Community, Justice and Disability at the St. Andrew's Foundation

My blog series, “Wednesdays with Dorothy” tells of the life of a woman who came to the St. Andrew’s Foundation as part of her transition from institutional life to community life. It is her story in her own words. I have also written some about my story involving the St. Andrew’s Foundation (you can see those essays here and here). My story, however, as well as Dorothy’s story at the St. Andrew’s Foundation would not have happened without Francis Walter’s story.

The St. Andrew’s Foundation was established under the leadership of the Reverend Francis Walter in 1973. He had previously been director of the Selma Interreligous Project during the civil rights struggle and in that role, among other things, had sponsored the Freedom Quilting Bee which was a cooperative that enabled poor black women to raise money for their impoverished region. (You can read about that project here.)

Francis hired me to work at the group homes in 1984. Since those days he went on to become rector of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church. He currently lives in retirement with his wife, Faye, at their home in Sewanee, Tennessee. I was able to catch up with Francis recently by telephone to talk with him about the early days of the St. Andrew’s Foundation. The following is his recollection of how it all began.

Francis Walter during the days
of the Selma Project
(Birmingham Library Archives photo)

The first thing that happened was that the Selma Interreligious Project at the end of our era had a good bit of foundation money. We had two lawyers that worked for us – they later formed their law firm and we were their clients. Jack Drake was one of them, he still practices law in Birmingham and he’s a fascinating guy. He became sort of a sub-lawyer in the lawsuit that was Wyatt vs. Stickney. He assisted. So there was kind of a vote of the Selma Project. We said, well that certainly would help a lot of poor people. We said, “Sure, you can take that on as a project until you start getting paid anything for it, the Selma Project will pay for it.” So we began to hear about it, then the lawsuit was won.  The Psychology Department at the University of Alabama was very helpful – they were on the side of the angels. There were people at the Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation who were bitterly opposed to any improvement – they  didn’t like the lawsuit, though there were other people [at the Mental Health Department] who secretly did [agree with the lawsuit] and we got to know them. 

The First Group Home in Alabama

So the University of Alabama Psychology Department thought that they might become the primary agent for de-institutionalization. Ray Fowler was the head of the Psychology Department. He and Jack and I would get together and talk now and then. One of the things we thought of was to have an office in each county and let people – like in Gee’s Bend – let people have one mentally handicapped person in each household. They could be paid a small amount of money and there would be a bus that would pick people up and take them to a center where they could improve their skills. It would bring some money to the poorest people in Alabama and they were also very loving people and most of them were black – and so we talked about that. But then the forces behind implementing Wyatt v. Stickney said we needed to have a group home, so the Selma Interreligious Project bought a house in Tuscaloosa right next door. We hired some people to be house parents. We had read Normalization and knew something about things like that and it was a nice old house. 

I had a little Volkswagen and I set out to Partlow – I had never been there before – to pick up two guys and take them down, show them the house, and ask if they would like to live there. This was going to be the first one, the grand experiment. We decided to name it Wyatt House after Ricky Wyatt. That was kind of a slap in the face of the Alabama Department of Mental Retardation because they were going to fund it, part of it, anyway. 

I had never been around identified mentally handicapped people. These two guys were in their fifties – one of them, I remember, was named Guy Wheatley. I was a little apprehensive, but after we were halfway there, it was only a couple of miles, I realized, well they’re just like me, they’re not any different. I remember I said, “What do you do Mr. Wheatley?” he said “I’m an inside plumber.”  I said, what’s an inside plumber? He said “I live at Partlow and I’m a plumber” There’s a plumbing company that does all the plumbing work and some of us belong to it.”  In other words there was an ordinary plumbing company and they would come on campus [at Partlow] and they would pick up these guys who they taught to become plumbers and they all worked together, but the inside plumbers never got paid anything. Wheatley said “I’d like to live in a group home, and the plumbing company told me they would hire me. If I’m not an inside plumber anymore, I could be an outside plumber and get paid.”  I thought, Well, that’s one example of how these people were taken advantage of.

So the other guy said, “I work in the canteen that sells soda pop and candy.” I asked him what he would like to do if he gets out. He said, “I don’t want to lose my job.  I’d like to come back to work at Partlow.” I asked him why, he said “They take state holidays – I’d have more holidays if I worked for them.”

They both moved in to the group home and we were the very first group home in Tuscaloosa. The Selma Project managed it, and it was right next door.  These were pretty high functioning people who first came out of [of the institution]. I think we had about eight residents there at Wyatt House.  So that was when I got interested in the work.

The Second Group Home

Then my wife and I got divorced, I resigned from the Selma Project and needed a job.  Ray Fowler said, “You could work with us. The state wants us to start a group home in Montgomery.  We’ve gotta do it in a big hurry and then we’ll take politicians through it to show them how nice it works – that they should continue to fund the de-institutionalization of Partlow and Bryce.”

So there were three of us on this task force. We didn’t have any time, we had to do it all at once, and it was really not very good. I just moved down to Montgomery, rented a hotel room and started reading the newspapers and talking to people. Within a few days we found this house that we could rent. Then I began to look for staff members. We were working from the idea that we could operate a group home from Tuscaloosa that was in Montgomery. So we had house parents and other workers who could relieve them. Well, then all of a sudden one of the relief workers doesn’t show up. They [the house parents] telephoned and said they were mad, that they were just going to walk out and leave all these people [the group home residents]. It was not a well thought out plan but it was the second group home [that was set up for residents from Partlow].

Things Fall into Place for the St. Andrew’s Foundation

I heard that the state was willing to talk to churches and non-profits about operating group homes. I knew that the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama had inherited these three houses on Birmingham’s Southside.  A woman had wanted a religious community to move to Birmingham and live there. She wanted St. Andrew’s Church to sponsor them. That didn’t work out, so she decided to just leave the property to the diocese. I went to the bishop and told him about how they could be group homes. Maurice Branscomb, the rector at St. Andrew’s said it would be great, the parish would love to sponsor it, and the residents would be welcome to worship here. So one thing led to another.

 Three houses in a row came to be the Women's Group Home (left), the Intermediate Group Home (partially pictured at the center) and the Men's Group Home (right)

Then a really generous thing happened that was so implausible for a political agency to do it. A lot of women worked as social workers in the Department of Mental Health. I was talking to one of these women there about this possibility.  She said, “That would be great, but we won’t have the money to do it until October.” She then said, “Here’s what we’ll do – we’ll hire you as a consultant for the Mental Retardation Department.” I asked her what I would do. She said I would just wait until it was funded and then I would go on the payroll of the Mental Retardation Department.  So I moved into the house in the neighborhood which I later bought.  An elderly woman lived there and initially I was going to move into the upstairs portion, but she died. The owner of the house was a member of St. Mary’s Episcopal Church. She told me to just go ahead and move in, and until we got things funded, she wouldn’t charge any rent.

It was perfect, because I had been reading about the problems that arise when you try to have a group home in a neighborhood.  Living there, I was able to join the Neighborhood Association and talk to people beforehand.  So the Diocese gave the go ahead to use the property for group homes. I hired Jim and Cathy. They were hired before we had any residents. We would do things like mow the lawns and clean the houses. We went to talk to mentally handicapped people and got ready to fund the thing.

The Road to a New Life

Something else had happened back before what I’ve been talking about here. Right after the divorce, I was really at a low point. We had sold our house and I moved into a room at the Selma Project House in Tuscaloosa. I knew the Trinitarian Sisters, a Roman Catholic order. Their mission was to work in the very poorest of parishes.  I had come to know them through civil rights work. One of them called me up. She knew what had happened to me and she said, “I want you to drive to Mobile and you are going to experience something that will change your life.”

I was ready to do things like that, so I said, “Okay, what is it?”

She said, “We are going to show a movie about a community for mentally handicapped people in France. “

“Where will it be?” I asked

“Are you familiar with the Allen Memorial Hospital in Mobile?”

“Yes, I was born there.”

“Well, after we show the movie, they’re going to tear it down.”

I thought, “Boy that is really synchronicity. The Holy Spirit is telling me to go. Here my life has been turned upside down.  Then I get this call to go and have a life-changing experience in the building in which I was born and then they’re going to tear it down the next day. “

It was a movie about the L’Arche Community. Then Jean Vanier [the founder of L’Arche] was invited by the Roman Catholic bishop in Birmingham to come to lead a retreat at Camp Tekawitha. So I got myself invited to it. It was three or four days. He lectured; there were a lot of mentally handicapped people there. It was very moving. Vanier is an incredible human being to be around. I saw how he related to mentally handicapped people, and I got to hear what his theories were.  That really also set me on the path.

The life of Vanier is just amazing. His father was the governor-general of Canada, which is like being the president. His mother was a university professor. He was on the road to being an academic at some university. He was in Europe and he had this experience of meeting two mentally retarded men under a bridge – that’s where they were living. He said to them, “How would you like to live with me? We’ll just get a house.” He decided to turn his back on a brilliant academic career and start this community. The little town was called Trosly-Breuil in France.

Learning from the L’Arche Community

After we got the staff members hired [at the St. Andrew’s Foundation], even before we got the first residents we got some money to send some of our staff members to a L’Arche Community in Toronto.  Those buildings there were designed according to normalization and L’Arche principles. The houses in Toronto, I can’t remember the name of the community up there, it was mostly Roman Catholic, so they were not using government funds. The houses were decorated with lots of beautiful colors. The center of each house was a large dining room and a big table where everybody sat.  All of the mentally retarded people had their own napkin rings and cloth napkins and were very fancy. When guests came, they had paper napkins. The guests were expected to prepare at least one meal for the house in which they were staying. Everybody had a wonderful time at the table, talking and joking.  All of these people, the staff members, were just living on a token salary – that was how they operated – so they would stay there two or three years.  That was a great experience, though I knew we couldn’t have a L’Arche community. We didn’t have the money to start one in Birmingham, but one got started in Mobile as a result of that retreat that was held in Birmingham.

So that’s how the St. Andrew’s Foundation got started. John Prince [who was a priest as well as an attorney] drew up our papers. He said, “Let’s call it a foundation, then we won’t be using any terms that refer to mental disability, and it will be linked to the church.” It was stipulated that parishioners would make up a certain percentage of the board.  We also had the space at the church to have our offices. So I read Normalization and I read materials that came from L’Arche.  We often said, Harry and I, that we never had any trouble relating to our clients. All the trouble we had was relating Mental Retardation Department of the State of Alabama. I have to say that one of the things that made the St. Andrew’s Foundation work was Harry Hamilton – he is an exceptional human being. I’ve been re-reading The Canterbury Tales, and there is that line, “Gladly would he teach and gladly would he learn.” That’s Harry.

Some of Our First Residents

We had a resident, a black woman named Earline. She died while she was a resident. We organized a funeral for her. If we had done nothing, her body would have been taken back to Partlow and placed in a grave that had a concrete marker with a number on it.  The whole staff said, “We’re not going to let that happen.” It was a wonderful event.  Very moving. I wrote a paper about it for an organization we belonged to of group homes for mentally retarded people. The title of the paper was “Earline.” I thought it was very illustrative of how the St. Andrew’s Foundation operated.  

Francis Walter in 1990 as
rector of  St Andrew's Church

I’ll tell you one story about Earline. Earline always came to church at St. Andrews. She would sit in the back pew. When the celebrant [at the altar] would hold his or her hands up in the orans position, Earline would always do that. It was not the first time that I had thought this, but as far as the bodily parts of the liturgy that involved moving around like that, the people who were mentally handicapped, because they weren’t so uptight, they were more open to doing things like that. So Earline would always hold her arms up like that, and I thought, well she would fit in a second or third century church because everybody held their hands up. So when the priest held his hands up so would Earline, and I always really liked that. Then at the end of the service when the deacon said, “Let us go forth in peace,” and the response would be “Thanks be to God,” Earline would really shout out “THANK YOU GOD!” Everyone else would of course be saying the quote the right way, and I thought you know she is full of the right spirit, and to hell with the order of the words.

Buford was another one of the residents who like Dorothy and Geraldine moved through our group homes and was ready for his own apartment. We had made the arrangements and he was getting ready to move. He was over in the office with Harry and me and we told him, “we’ll keep track of you, Buford, we’ll still be around, but is there anything you would like for us to do before you move?” He said, “Burn my file!” I thought, you know we could get into some trouble for doing that. If I do it, I’m not going to leave anything. Then I thought, well the hell with it – so we get in trouble, that’s what he wants. And it was so powerful.  We went out into the parking lot at St. Andrew’s.  I got some kerosene and candles and Harry, Buford and I burned that sucker up. Nobody ever said a word about it at the Mental Health Department – they didn’t know anything about it. It would never have occurred to me with my I.Q. to do that, but Buford knew exactly what he wanted. 

And the Work Grew

(The first expansion of the work of the St. Andrew’s Foundation came as a result of one of the residents. Cecil Cruise lived in one of the group homes and had befriended a young man in the community who in turn made the St. Andrew’s Foundation the beneficiary in his life insurance policy. I had heard the story when I worked at St. Andrew’s and I asked Francis to tell the story again.)

Joe Haney was a young man who was a student at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. He became a member of St. Andrew’s Church.  He was an acolyte, and Cecil [a resident at the group home] was also an acolyte, so Cecil befriended him.  Joe had cystic fibrosis, but nobody thought not to have incense [during the service].  This guy would just be choking and Cecil would say to him, “There’s nothing wrong with you – you’re going to be alright. You’ll get over this.” And Cecil would slap him on the back and encourage him. Well in time he died.  It bowled us over – here we get a notice from an attorney that Joe had left $50,000 to the St. Andrew’s Foundation. It was from an insurance policy. The only reason he had it was that to be a student at UAB, the students automatically got an insurance policy. I don’t think any insurance company would have given him a policy. He had reached more than the average age of a person with severe cystic fibrosis.

The apartment building that became
the Joe Haney House

I called his mother up and said to her, “I don’t feel very good about this, how do you feel?” and she said “That’s what he wanted to do. He wanted that money to go to the St. Andrew’s Foundation.” Then she told me about how Cecil had encouraged him and befriended him.  He didn’t specify how the money be used, but there was some kind of federal program, I guess the word you would use today is leverage, we could take that $50,000 and we got a loan at an incredibly low interest rate. So with that money we bought the apartment building and fixed it up.

(The apartment building was dedicated to Joe Haney with a plaque in his memory. There were four units in that apartment building and thus some of the residents, including Cecil, were able to move to another level of independence and still have supervision on the premises. It also allowed the St. Andrew’s Foundation to serve a larger number of clients.)

~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~

Where Sorrow and Beauty Dwell

My conversation with Father Walter reminded me of how fortunate I was that my life intersected with St. Andrew’s Church and the St. Andrew’s Foundation. It was there that I came to know more about what it means to be human. It was in that setting that we sought to recognize the worth of every individual, and to help those with disabilities live normally in the community. It was in that unique community at St. Andrew’s that all of us – residents, staff and volunteers alike – joined in an endeavor to celebrate the rhythms of life together.  

There were some trying days, some times of frustration. There were times when in a single moment tears were elicited that came from a deep core where sorrow and beauty dwell together. It was real life. The kind of real life many of us for some reason try to avoid. We think we could save our life by avoiding those things that touch upon our own sorrow and brokenness, only to realize that “whosoever shall seek to save one's life, shall lose it.”

Time and Change

Many things change with time. The old houses where the St. Andrew’s Foundation began were bought by the hospital on the same block as it expanded its facilities. New homes were built on the same street. Also two new houses were acquired in the neighborhood to facilitate further independence for some of the residents.

Today, the work that was begun at the St. Andrew’s Foundation continues by way of the Jefferson County Association for Retarded Citizens. The ARC oversees operations of the group homes and supervised apartments.  In addition to the ARC, other places in town such as the United Cerebral Palsy Center of Greater Birmingham, Workshops, Inc., and the Glenwood Autism and Behavioral Health Center provide training and opportunity for a number of people. The need for services for people with disabilities has not diminished, and thankfully there are people and organizations who are trying to fill that need.

___________

* Photo Credit: All photos by Charles Kinnaird except where otherwise noted


For more information:

• “L'Arche: a Community of Brokenness and beauty,” A radio broadcast on American Public Media with Krista Trippett. You can hear an interview with Jean Vanier, or read the transcript at http://www.onbeing.org/program/larche-community-brokenness-and-beauty/116
• Learn more about the Association for Retarded Citizens, also known as “The Arc” at http://www.thearc.org/page.aspx?pid=2335
• Learn about The United Cerebral Palsy Center of Greater Birmingham at http://ucpbham.com/
• Information on the Glenwood Autism and Behavioral Health Center can be found at http://glenwood.org/
• Find out about things happening at Workshops, Inc. at http://www.workshopsinc.org/

-