Thursday June 10,2021

Only 14 days to go. This shouldn’t be difficult. I don’t expect quarantine will be much different from daily life in these Covid-restricted times.

            I live alone. Covid rules won’t let me invite people in for dinner or coffee. The only germs I have to deal with are my own. So keeping the house spotless doesn’t need to be a high priority.

            I have a freezer full of frozen food. I’ve got more books than I can possibly read. The cable is working, and Google awaits.

            This could be almost like a mini-vacation.

            I can see the routines shaping up.

            * Make myself breakfast. Check email for spiritual insights from Frederick Beuchner, Richard Rohr, and Mother Teresa.

            Sip a cup of coffee.

            Read the morning newspaper. Skip most of the news stories. I already know all I want to know about Covid-19 sadistics, umm, statistics.

            The comics strips at least offer a chuckle. I do the daily puzzles, to keep my mind sharp.

            I look for my coffee cup. I know I had it earlier.

            Household tasks call. I load the dishwasher with last night’s plates and cutlery. Toss the laundry basket’s contents into the washing machine.

            I know I put my coffee cup down somewhere.

            Heat up some canned soup for lunch. Put it into the microwave. Oh, that’s where I left my coffee cup.

            Marilynne Robinson’s books beckon. I wonder what will happen to the old preacher. If anything will. I read until I drift off. A nap won’t hurt me.

            I know I left a coffee cup somewhere.

            I go to unload the dishwasher, to get a fresh cup. Oh. I forgot to turn it on this morning. I’ll just rinse out a used cup.

            Why is the coffee pot empty?

            And where did I leave my book?

            The phone rings. A friend, checking on how I’m doing. No symptoms, I say. Yet. Half an hour later, the Fraud Squad from an unnamed Credit Card Company calls about unauthorized purchases. I’m almost grateful for a pre-recorded voice to snarl at.

            My book flipped some pages while I left it alone. Now I can’t find my place.

            My coffee cup has vanished again.

            I discover I didn’t start the washing machine either. Oh well, I can wait until tomorrow for clean underwear.

            I boil a kettle of water It’s about tea time. There are no cookies in the cupboard. I think about driving to the store. Then I remember; I can’t.

            I find perogies in the freezer. I boil six in a pot on the stove. I slice an onion, chop some bacon, fry them both. Dinner smells delicious. I say grace, thanking God for life’s blessings.

            I go to the refrigerator for the sour cream. There isn’t any. I retract grace.

            I read two back issues of National Geographic.

            I turn on the TV to watch Jeopardy. Pre-empted by a basketball game. Switch to PBS for British murder mysteries. Nope. Instead, I have a choice between an exciting episode of Antiques Roadshow or live coverage of a Republican filibuster in Congress. With colour commentary. Watch it anyway. *

            Quarantine feels like instructions for a knitting pattern: repeat from “*” to “*” until you run out of quarantine.

            If only I could find that vagrant coffee cup…

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Copyright © 2021 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

            To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

Last week I wrote about symbolic acts, public and/or private, using mismatched socks as an example. 

            “Loved this reflection!” Rich Hendricks wrote. “I went from differing socks to mis-matched shoes several years ago. Who says shoes have to be the same? It is my symbolic gesture of rebellion against being afraid of what others might think, and it is a great conversation starter about how it is okay to be different.”

Isabel Gibson wondered “if your examples conflate private activities with symbolic gestures. Of the latter, I'd say they must be visible in some way or they fail in their purpose: to *show* respect, solidarity, agreement . . .

            “I'd say that completely private activities by definition can't be symbolic, but neither do they fail in their purpose: to express our beliefs; to remind ourselves of what we believe, who we want to be, and what we think is important; to play.

            “By posting this piece, your private sock choices became a symbolic gesture related to colour-blindness in other areas, perhaps, and eccentricity in general.”

Daughter Sharon told me, “You just need brighter, more colourful socks... We can work on that.”

John Shaffer connected the column with taking independent positions:  “One time in the 1980s I decided to promote the use of inclusive language is a sermon. Two members flipped out. One powerful woman said that if I continued to make an issue of it, she would make an issue of me as the pastor. The man came running up with his fists clinched and the veins in his forehead throbbing, saying ‘Why do you make a big deal out of something that is so unimportant?’

            “I wanted to say, ‘Look at you, man, how can you say it is unimportant?” 

            “Within one year, the woman studied the issue in the women's group and she came to me and apologized.

            “The man died after I had moved on, and he made one request as he died: ‘Ask John to do my service for me.’ Against all my rules, I went back. My first sentence was: ‘Bruce was a person with strong opinions...’ and members of his family doubled over in laughter. I had captured him in one sentence...

            “[Mostly] I decided to tackle the issue by personal example. I used inclusive language. To my knowledge, it didn't change anyone, but I didn't get yelled at very often...

Steve Roney commented, “Enjoyed your latest column on symbolism, and am definitely considering wearing mismatched socks myself. Beyond the prejudice of supposing socks ought to be conformist, it occurs to me that this mimics the motley of the traditional fool. It says, then, ‘I am a fool,’ a statement of Christian humility, and a fool in a proper Christian sense, not caring much about the trivialities of this world. Like our mere appearance.”

            The rest of Steve’s letter challenged my assertion that for much of the Catholic Church’s history, priests celebrated communion in isolation from the laity, as they now have to in pandemic lockdowns. I’m not Catholic; Steve is. The Catholic Encyclopedia states that the bread was always offered to the people; the chalice was reserved for the priests. I seem to have  misunderstood that tradition; I apologize. 

Bob Rollwagen: “If your socks don’t match, you can hope you have another similar pair in the drawer. And a pair does not have a left and right so it doesn’t matter which side wears out or gets an hole in the toe, you can still make a pair. 

            “Like symbolic acts, it does not matter what you wear or how you illustrate your position, just doing it is what brings the memories. I had a friend who wore different socks in the ‘70s. He bought odd socks at the SallyAnn, as he did most of his clothes.”

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Psalm paraphrase

Psalm 20 reflects the kind of blessing that I suspect every parent would like to give to a child moving on in life.

1          God bless you, my child.
As you set out into the world, God go with you;
every step of every day, may God watch over you.

2          When you're feeling low, may God send you a shoulder to cry upon,
And a friendly hand to help you up.

3          When you're feeling good, may your laughter echo in the heavens;
whatever you do, may it be acceptable in God's sight.

4          May God hear the deepest longings of your heart,
and let your longings blossom into reality. 

5          May the word we hear of you always be good.
Then we will know that you have known God while you were growing up.
We will know that God continues to belong in your new life. 

            May you remember how to pray;

6          For God will not desert those who stay in touch.
For those who keep in touch, God always responds. 

7          Some of your new friends will put their faith in money,
others in power, and some in fast cars;
Put your faith only in the Lord our God. 

8          Those who put their faith in false gods will stumble and fall,
But you will not be afraid of the light;
you can stand straight and tall. 

9          Lord, into your hands we commit our child;
take her under your wing,
for our sakes, and yours. 

You can find paraphrases of most of the psalms in the Revised Common Lectionary in my book Everyday Psalmsavailable from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols. Some spam filters have blocked my posts because they’re suspicious of some of the web links.

            Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca He’s also relatively inexpensive!

            I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom. She also has lots of beautiful photos. Especially of birds.

            Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom (NB that’s “watso” not “watson”)

ALVA WOOD’S ARCHIVE

            I have acquired (don’t ask how) the complete archive of the late Alva Wood’s collection of satiric and sometimes wildly funny columns about a mythical village’s misadventures. I’ve put them on my website: http://quixotic.ca/Alva-Wood-Archive. You’re welcome to browse. No charge. (Although maybe if I charged a fee, more people would find the archive worth visiting.)