Author: The Rev. J. Gary Brinn

The Gospel according to Mark begins in media res, which is just a fancy Latin way of saying “in the middle of the story.” Honestly, every story begins in the middle of some other story, beginnings being arbitrary things and all…

Specifically, the Gospel according to Mark begins with John the Baptizer. Jesus is a grown up, not the “Sweet Baby Jesus” Ricky Bobby likes so much in “Talladega Nights.”

The Gospel traditionally attributed to John (the Disciple not the Baptizer) begins at the beginning, and by beginning I mean cosmic-before-Creation beginning, but then moves on to the concrete story of John the Baptizer, essentially the same starting spot as Mark.

It is only in the two gospels traditionally attributed to Matthew and according to Luke the Physician that we find Nativity narratives. Both are late gospels, using the Gospel according to Mark as a primary source, as well as another document, a long lost gospel that we call Q. And since they share these two primary sources, you’d think that their Nativity stories would be much the same or at least pretty close. You’d be wrong.

Continue reading “Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary: 18 December 2022 (Advent4)”

We don’t really treat Advent as a penitential season anymore. It was hard to be a penitent at an office Christmas party with Barney’s “special” egg nog, and all of those holiday movies have happy endings… 

The Christmas Tree Farm gets saved, the pageant happens when the retired rock star returns to her home town and belts out a perfectly operatic Ave Maria while reconnecting with her high school sweetheart, and the blizzard breaks just in time for that donated kidney to get through as the Christmas star shines in the sky. And puppies, just because.

But I’m going to start this morning with a confession anyway. I may read and collect DC Comics, that is to say Batman and Superman and Wonder Woman, but I prefer the Marvel movies, like Ironman, which, I’m sorry to say, are just better. 

And I’m pretty sure that is some sort of violation of the Geek Code, akin to saying that Jean-Luc Picard commanded the Millennium Falcon. If you know, you know.

Continue reading “4 December 2022: The Dude Abides”

While a certain type of American blowhard is blathering on about “wokeness” and defunding libraries, the rest of us have been quietly getting on with the life-long process of learning. 

For example, while my theology and historical understanding of the Pharisees has been appropriately nuanced over the years, a recent conversation with Rabbi Oren from Kol Ami has led me to tweak my Communion Rite, and begin reading a new book on the Pharisaic movement. 

I grew up learning about and talking about “slaves.” It is only recently that I have come to understand how that term essentializes and reduces the humanity of those held in bondage. I now try to avoid the term slave, for they were people, not objects. I lean into “enslaved people,” and similar terms, making clear that slavery did not define who they were, it is something that was done to them. 

For years, I’ve pushed back against the term “sexual preference” as applied to members of the LGBTQI+ community, as if everything about us was reduced to what happens in bed and being gay was a choice, like say Rocky Road ice cream instead of Vanilla. I’ve tried any number of alternatives, but in the end, gay, lesbian, and all of those other letters gets to where we need to be and reflects the diversity of folks who do not fit the majority culture constructs and gender and relationship.

There is, however, one word that triggers a certain type of privileged American that still leaves me scratching my head. I mean, they make a big deal out of Memorial Day, go on and on about “The Greatest Generation” as if no other generation was ever great. But say the word “antifascist,” and they have you pegged as a cop-killing communist. And shorten it to “antifa,” and they just about explode.

I don’t think we need to redefine or abandon the term antifascist. I am proudly Antifa. You know, like my grandfather, part of that supposedly “Greatest Generation.” 

Continue reading “Fascist Killing Hope Machine: 27 November 2022”

Cooking was having a cultural moment even before the number of media platforms went haywire. There are still traditional cookbooks, selling like hotcakes to people who allegedly don’t even cook. Then there are the 23 or so cooking channels on your cable box or streaming service. And let’s not get started on the websites and the YouTube channels, the significant ink given over to cooking in our newspapers of record like the New York Times. There are films, from Jon Favreau’s aptly named “Chef” to “Julie and Julia,” based on the real life work of Julie Powell, who shockingly died just over a week ago.

Cooking even gets featured in current affairs, from the tragic suicide of the chef and adventurer Anthony Bourdain to the humanitarian work and political daring of Jose Andreas, the native Spaniard, naturalized American, whose work includes World Central Kitchen and a pugilistic relationship with our last president. Since 2010, World Central Kitchen has responded to countless natural disasters, set up kitchens during the pandemic, and is currently operating eight sites on the border between Poland and Ukraine. 

Meanwhile, Ievgen Klopotenko is cooking away at his restaurant in Kyiv. As reported by Charlotte Higgins for The Guardian, he was first known for cultural openness, a sort of Ukrainian Jamie Oliver trying to make school lunches more nutritious and more appealing, including the introduction of foreign dishes like curry, shepherd’s pie, and mac and cheese. Today, he focused on native dishes, and fighting Putin’s attempt to erase Ukrainian culture the best way he knows how, from the kitchen.

For all of its problems, and there are plenty of them, one of the gifts of globalization has been culinary diversity. I have the French cookbook on the shelf, but it is joined by books full of curries, Moroccan dishes, street food from African and Asia, and of course, the American South. We’ve come a long way since Julia Child premiered her show “The French Chef” the year I was born.

Home cooking has largely evolved with technology, as storage and transportation allowed us access to foods we might have never encountered, much less attempted on our own. Restaurant cooking had one major revolution, when Auguste Escoffier brought his military experience to bear on the organization of the kitchen at César Ritz’s Savoy in London, creating the “brigade de cuisine” that is still used to this day, more than a century later. Escoffier was thoroughly corrupt and absolutely genius, so significant a figure in the culinary world that he becomes Auguste Gusteau in Pixar’s 2007 film “Ratatouille.”

Of course, food is a faith issue, and I’m not just talking about to sometimes quirky dietary restrictions that developed in ancient times or the notion that gods eat and therefore require food sacrifices, whether the one God of the monotheisms or the many gods of polytheistic and ancestor-worshipping religions. Though I do always get a kick out of the suggestion that the original grain offering to Yahweh was actually beer.

Continue reading “Food, Glorious Food: 13 November 2022”

You know, sometimes things are just too easy. Like today’s scripture reading, from what we think of as Paul’s Second Letter to the church at Thessaloniki, a text that says the end times can’t come until the lawless one appears, a self-promoting man who will convince people to believe total lies. Yeah, about that… 

Maybe we’d better start packing, ’cause we’re about to be raptured, or, if God is really the complete jerk some seem to believe, get sent off on a very warm and very permanent vacation. Like SPF 5 million sunscreen and asbestos board shorts type of vacation. Happy Armageddon, Y’All!

The good news is that people have been predicting the end of the world for a very long time, and the evil men and women who are setting fire to our democracy are not the first cult leaders to sell the snake oil of mass delusion. The world hasn’t ended yet, though we’re doing our level best, what with human-caused climate change and all.

In other ways, today’s text is far from being easy. My favorite biblical commentary uses words like delusion, disorientation, and dismay when describing this chapter.

So what are we to make of this passage and more broadly of what we call biblical eschatology, of all the texts that suggest some form of divine re-ordering, whether that take the form of a Day of the Lord that establishes an earthly order that matches the divine will or an apocalyptic destruction in which the sheep and the goats get divided and earthly life ceases? The whole “Left Behind” scenario, or maybe the Omen series… 

And let’s answer that before we come back to the challenge the late Madeleine Albright offers, what to do with politicians who view texts like the Revelation to John of Patmos as an operations manual for domestic and foreign policy, who have enough hubris to believe they are guaranteed a spot in heaven. Besides making sure we never give them the nuclear codes.

Continue reading “Happy Armageddon, Y’All: 6 November 2022”

It may seem like so very long ago, but it was really only the Year One B.C. (that is, before Covid) when the great Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris burned. I remember the tears in the eyes of one congregant in the church I was serving at the time when she thought about all that was lost, art and architecture, and I suspect, as we recently experienced with the death of Queen Elizabeth, a sense of continuity, a sense of the world as it had been for all of her life. In fact, the congregant grieving the loss of the great cathedral was a native of England, so I can only imagine her sense of discontinuity these days with a new king and the Prime Minister of the month.

The Notre Dame fire was made worse by the fact that the fire brigade was not called until more than thirty minutes after the first alarm went off. First they sent a guard to see if the alarm was right. They were not ready to accept that there was a fire. Except they sent the guard to the wrong place, the wrong attic. By the time they looked in the right place and believed the fire was real, it was way too late.

After the fire, there was immediate discussion of what comes next, of rebuilding the cathedral. The French President, Emmanuel Macron, suggested an openness to a “contemporary architectural gesture.” As you might expect, heads exploded. Humans are nothing if not reactionary.

In the end, the French National Assembly passed a law requiring that the structure be rebuilt in a way to “preserve the historic, artistic and architectural interest of the monument.” 

Let’s bracket our American expectations about whether a national government should be controlling the reconstruction of a building it plans to give back to the Roman Catholic church, and for a moment, let’s even bracket the backwardness that insists that only the past is worthy of our attention. 

Let’s instead admit one simple fact: no matter what they do after the fire, it will not be the same as it was before the fire, and what was there before the fire itself had evolved and changed since it was originally completed in the 13th century, so which “before” should the reconstructionists even choose? 

Continue reading “After the Fire: 30 October 2022”

My recent vacation combined a little tourism and a lot of family. 

The tourism part included an outstanding exhibit at Norfolk’s Chrysler Museum focused on the American artist Jacob Lawrence, a 20^th century descendent of the enslaved African Diaspora, and his connections with artists still in Africa. I also visited Williamsburg, Yorktown, and Jamestown. It was the first time in decades that I’d experienced those historic sites, so closely tied to my own family’s story in America. 

Williamsburg continues to be what it has been since the Rockefeller’s made it a personal cause, a well-funded billionaire’s philanthropy. Yorktown and Jamestown are different. Both contain historic sites managed by the National Park Service on a shoestring budget, as well as substantial educational sites and museums under the auspices of a better-funded and independent foundation. 

At Jamestown, that foundation’s museum and re-creation of the ships and the first fort are called the Jamestown Settlement, and I must admit, I was blown away. They have done a remarkable job of re-framing the story. Where once you experienced a celebration of colonialism, the Doctrine of Discovery, and white supremacy, you can now hear about the intersection and clash of three advanced cultures, the First Peoples of the continent, the English who invaded and established the colony, and the Angolan abductees whose purchase at Jamestown marked the start of our nation’s original sin.

The foundation’s museum and re-created encampment at Yorktown is not quite as nuanced, still firmly rooted in American exceptionalism and white nationalism, with barely a nod to the overwhelming majority of residents in the original colonies who were not made free by the American Revolution, indigenous populations, slaves in the African diaspora, women… 

The American Revolution is, in the Yorktown narrative, primarily about taxation without representation, which is at least partially true. It was an economic war, about the exploitative and unsustainable model of overseas colonization. But there is little mention at Yorktown or in popular patriotism of the Southern concern that England might abolish slavery, something that seemed inevitable after a 1772 decision by the Court of the King’s Bench, and a move that would invalidate a primary source of Southern wealth.

The so-called Founding Fathers are at the center of it all in Yorktown, as are those familiar patriotic tropes, “give me liberty or give me death,” and the words of Thomas Jefferson, the “unalienable right” to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

I was already thinking about happiness, for today’s scripture and theme were on the calendar months ago. But what the heck is happiness? And does our faith promise us happiness?

Continue reading “Unfollow Your Bliss: 23 October 2022”

The five-century old cognitive shift we call the Enlightenment, the Age of Reason, or simply Modernity, produced an idealism bordering on hubris and delusion at times, the idea that humans were capable of producing a perfectly ordered society, a utopia in the writings of Sir Thomas More. The cognitive shift to post-modernity, only a century old and marked by things like relativity and uncertainty, has left us more than a little cynical about the human capacity for good, but people do still try to create just and ordered communities, sometimes called alternative or intentional community, from co-housing and housing trusts to Christian equivalents of the “kibbutz,” communities united in religious values and committed to shared endeavor.

Humans being humans, though, intentional and alternative communities rarely survive past the first generation, and are never quite as utopian as the founders intended. For example, Arden, Delaware, where I once lived, was artsy and progressive, an experiment in the economics advocated by a guy named Henry George, and influenced by the Arts and Crafts Movement. In Arden, you own your house, but not the land it sits on, one interpretation of George’s push to tax land, not labor. The people who initially lived in Arden, being self-governed and human, didn’t quite live up to the vision of the founders, so there were sequels, Ardentown and Ardencroft, which were like most sequels, not as good as the original, and maybe best unmade. Still, Arden exists with roughly the same principles more than a century later, which is a raging success by alternative community standards.

Georgist economics predates the digital economy, the immense value attached these days to intangible assets, predates the Ponzi scheme that is finance capitalism, and was conceived before hedge funds and private equity firms. But in an age when those hedge funds are buying up trailer parks and holding the poor hostage for extortionist rents, when so much land is under water or on fire, sometimes in rapid succession, it might be worth re-engaging questions about land, who owns it, and who it benefits. 

We begin our service every week by naming the fact that we are on stolen Seneca land, and the ancient Hebrews were in much the same position, sort of. The Books of Joshua and Judges are celebrations of a successful campaign of genocide and ethnic cleansing, babies brains smashed against the rocks, the same sort of thing ethnic Russians and the Russian army are doing in Ukraine these days. Fortunately, at least for those ancient Canaanites, we don’t think this really happened, at least not on what is literally a “biblical” scale, though no doubt some were dispossessed and driven out. The Hebrew culture actually appears to be a construction, weaving together Canaanite culture and migrant populations like the Levite escapees from Egypt, with the idea of a racially pure Hebrew monotheism being about as real as the idea of America as a white Christian nation, which is to say, not real and absolutely false.

Still, the idea had power, and land had emotional value far beyond agricultural output and re-sale. The Hebrews told themselves that the land, this land of milk and honey, was given to them by God, and their entire economy was built on small-hold farms and inheritance. This is why, when the King of Israel wanted his vineyard, Naboth said “No. This is my inheritance. I will not sell.” Of course, Queen Jezebel was more than willing to fabricate a false charge against Naboth, ending with the man’s death, so much like the civil asset forfeiture laws in America today, widely abused by corrupt police departments.

Continue reading “25 September 2022: Fixed Star”

There are more than one kind of Republican in the world, and I do not mean by that the split between the anti-Trumpers and their treasonous opponents, for as we were reminded this week, in most of the world, the opposite of Republican is not Democrat, it is Monarchist. 

This is not, as far as I know, a particularly divisive issue for the continental European monarchies. Monarchs in places like Holland and Sweden are generally well-behaved. There are a handful of claimants in places like Italy that generate a little buzz, though they don’t get much traction. Republicanism is a live issue in Great Britain, even more so among its former colonies, many of which still have the queen, or now king, as head of state. There are Republican movements in Australia and Canada, for example, but they are especially strong in the Caribbean and African countries of the commonwealth, countries that were the targets of particularly exploitative and racist colonial practices. The British were, after all, the chief beneficiaries of the Triangle Trade that moved slaves from Africa to the Americas. 

Still, even the most diehard Republican has been measured if not completely silent on the death of Queen Elizabeth II, possibly out of pragmatism, but also possibly out of decency, for even if the House of Windsor and the royal brand have been tarnished in recent years, she was still treasured.

This should seem baffling to Americans. After all, we fought a war to gain our independence from the British crown and soundly rejected monarchy as a model for government. Our head of state is also our head of government, sometimes, except when he isn’t, which is worth reconsidering, both the explicit “he” and the broader question of our current two-party first-past-the-post electoral system, which seems to have failed completely.

Yet, for some reason, Americans are quite attached to English royalty. It may be that the American myth was initially forged by invaders from England, the theocrats of the Massachusetts Bay colony and the Royalists in Virginia, opposite sides of an English Civil War that saw the first King Charles lose more than just his crown. 

It may be our alliances during the First and Second World Wars that strengthened the connection, where we fought by the side of the British and their colonies. 

It may be countless movies and novels and the logical overlap when literature is written in a shared language. 

An American has even married into the royal family for a second time recently, though the first time was to a racist and Nazi-sympathizer, and nothing about that story was particularly pleasant so we tend to avoid it.

My social media feeds have been filled with the late queen since she died, the new king, and all things British. I admit that while I have not watched “The Crown” or Downton Abbey, I am enough of an Anglophile to have paid attention myself, have watched some of the processions and remembrances.

Only one friend, a classmate from Divinity School, was contrarian, publicly noting that he didn’t really care about the whole thing, that he did not completely understand the American grief. And, of course, on one level, he’s right. Elizabeth Windsor was not our queen. 

Continue reading “The Prize We Pay for Love: 18 September 2022”

You have probably seen the memes on social media, a sentence made up of words that may share pronunciations or spellings but have completely different meanings, or maybe punctuation that makes the difference between whether we are calling grandma for dinner or serving her up slow-roasted on a bed of couscous. 

They all poke good-natured fun at the English language, which is, if we are honest, weird and difficult on a good day. 

English is the linguistic equivalent of a Lamborghini marrying a Volkswagen and having a Land Rover love child, part Romance, part German efficiency, part bulldozer, with good old earthy Anglo-Saxon profanity on the bumper stickers for good measure. 

Never mind the countless loan words from other cultures, absorbed as the English colonized the world, the sun never setting on the once great and horrible empire that was, in truth, the first globalization, exploitation and racism on a scale that made Imperial Rome seem like rank amateurs.

One bit of that British empire was the Indian subcontinent, many small kingdoms administratively and forcefully unified, then artificially carved up again upon release, and still reeling from that partition to this day. And there, on the west coast of what is today India, we find folks who speak Marathi, actually the tenth largest language in the world in terms of native speakers, outnumbering the entire population of Germany and then some. There is a cinema tradition, Mollywood, and a rich literary history. 

Marathi is the language that names the animal at the heart of the English colonialist classic tale “Riki Tiki Tavi” by Kipling, for mongoose is a Marathi loan word, and Riki Tiki Tavi is a courageous and loyal mongoose. 

Like so many loan words, mongoose does not follow even the Frankenstein rules of English, for the plural of mongoose is not mongeese, even if the plural of goose is geese. There are no mongeese, only mongooses.

Goose and geese, mouse and mice, sheep and … sheep.

There is no difference between one sheep and ninety-nine sheep. 

Continue reading “There Are No Mongeese: 11 September 2022”