Monday, November 22, 2010

Praying


It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones: just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate; this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

--Mary Oliver

Thursday, November 18, 2010


"We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."
– Carlos Castaneda

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Father Thomas Keating and Contemplative Prayer


Contemplative Outreach of New York is sponsoring evenings of spiritual nourishment, contemplative prayer and reflection under the guidance of Father Thomas Keating.  Following 30 minutes of Centering Prayer, participants will view a video of a talk by Fr. Thomas with an opportunity for conversation, questions and sharing.  There is no charge.  Donations gratefully accepted.  All are welcome.

When:  
Saturday evenings from 7-9 PM
Nov. 20, Dec. 18, Jan. 15, Feb. 19, March 19, April 16, May 21

Where:
The Chapel of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus & Mary
325 E. 33rd St., between First & Second Avenues

For more information contact: Richard Kigel, 718-698-7514, interiorsilence@gmail.com

Monday, November 15, 2010

Tommy Tune gives us the old razzle-dazzle


Tommy Tune is a giving performer. For more than 90 minutes, the suave nine-time Tony Award winner sang and danced his way through Steps in Time: A Broadway Biography in Song and Dance yesterday afternoon for one show only at the Brooklyn Center for the Performing Arts. With no intermission. And two encores. I floated back to the subway.

Beginning with a demonstration of various tap dancing steps, he then burst into the opening number, “Hey, There, Good Times Here I Am” and maintained that buoyant spirit throughout. After more than 50 years in show business, the 71-year-old star is still in love with the stage.

And his closing number, “I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise with a New Step Everyday,” would indicate he intends to keep on going. Which he did yesterday, returning to the stage to sing about his love for performing in a song set to the tune of Stephen Sondheim’s “I’m Still Here” and then back again for Cole Porter’s “Every Time We Say Goodbye.”

In between he shared stories about his career, a career that includes two Tony Awards as a performer (Best Featured Actor in a Musical in 1974 for Seesaw and Best Actor in a Musical in 1983 for My One and Only); four as a choreographer (A Day in Hollywood / A Night in the Ukraine, My One and Only, Grand Hotel and The Will Rogers Follies); and three as a director (Nine, Grand Hotel and The Will Rogers Follies).  At the end he said he hadn’t had time to tell us about his years in Las Vegas, Hollywood or London. I wish he had. I would have liked more more “biography” with the song and dance. He’s a charming storyteller. I laughed when he described his early auditioning for chorus boy parts and how he tried to stoop to the size of the others around him. When the director asked his height, he’d reply, “Five foot 17 inches and three quarters.”

One story stood out the most. He told of how while touring with My One and Only he played the straight man for Charles Honi Coles. Giving his line and expecting Coles to follow with one referring to not seeing tall white guys like him around the neighborhood, a line that always brought much laughter, Tune waited but Coles remained silent, sitting in a chair stage center. Tune moved in closer, but Coles said nothing. Then the older man gestured slightly with his right hand in the direction of the orchestra pit. Tune cued the conductor. When the music began Coles rose from his chair and danced his duet with Tune. Then the older man took his seat again and the chair was pulled offstage.

“That was the last time I ever danced with Honi Coles,” Tune said. “That was the last time he ever danced at all. He had suffered a stroke onstage and couldn’t speak.” But when he heard the music, “his dancer’s body” led him through the steps. I would have liked more vivid stories like that.

Longtime collaborators the Manhattan Rhythm Kings backed Tune on many numbers; I liked it best when they tapped with him. I wish he had shared their story. They began singing on the sidewalks of New York City in 1980.  According to theater legend, Tune saw them performing outside of a subway station and dropped them his card.  And that was the start of a beautiful friendship. In 1984 Tune and the Kings collaborated on a collection of songs written by Fred Astaire, and the collaboration has continued for more than 25 years.

I hope Tommy Tune will be like Honi Coles, doing what he loves until he can’t do it anymore. Somehow I think he will be.

Friday, November 12, 2010

To Kill a Mockingbird's spiritual lessons


I wrote this feature for the Nov. 14, 2010 issue of The Living Church magazine.

Matt Litton grew up in an evangelical family of educators, giving him an early familiarity with both The Good Book and good books. In that latter category, one in particular, To Kill a Mockingbird, captured his heart when he discovered it at about age 12.

The novel’s messages of compassion and the importance of caring for our neighbors continue to resonate for him. Now 38, Litton teaches To Kill a Mockingbird at Mariemont High School in Cincinnati. In revisiting Harper Lee’s 1960 novel of racism and family life in the American South each year, he began hearing the word of God though the characters and themes.

After a couple of years of mulling over the biblical messages, he sat down and wrote a comparison of God and Boo Radley, the mysterious young man who lives hidden away from his neighbors in the tiny Alabama town of Maycomb. From there he crafted parables of other characters, as well as themes such as religious hypocrisy and the role of women in faith. The result is the creative and inspiring new book The Mockingbird Parables.

To Kill a Mockingbird is so familiar and a part of our culture,” he said one morning during a phone interview from his school. “It’s the most widely read book in secondary schools; more than a million copies are sold each year. It’s a story we’re all familiar with, but it also contains some gospel in it.”

He said he had no feelings of presumptuousness in taking on such a revered classic in his own book.

“It’s not literary criticism. It’s not intended that way. The themes, the characters speak into how we should live our faith out. It’s not meant to be academic. The Mockingbird Parables is a front porch conversation. I saw in To Kill a Mockingbird an opportunity to talk about our connection to each other. Loving God is easy. Loving our neighbor is challenging.”

Still, he didn’t send a copy to Ms. Lee.

“I know she’s reclusive,” he said. “I would love it if she would read it, but I want to be as respectful of her as I can. She wrote the book and that’s enough. She doesn’t owe anybody anything. The Mockingbird Parables is how an American story spoke to me in a kind of faith conversation.”

The novel’s appeal over a half century, Litton says, is that it presents so many different messages -- lessons in how to handle finances in hard times, of compassion, of courage.

“No matter the time period, it’s so rich. We’re eternally struggling with compassion and seeing the world through other people’s perspective. It’s why it continues to be so relevant.”

He hopes in his book readers will hear the gospel’s call to put compassion into action, encouraging them “to walk out your front doors and endeavor to truly know and love each other.”



The Parable of Boo Radley: Discovering Our Divine Mysterious Neighbor.

The 10 parables Litton has developed reflect deep insight into the novel’s characters and knowledge of scripture and the Christian faith. He clearly loves all three. Here are selections from one parable.


Like God, Boo is mysterious. “’Who is Boo Radley?’ may be one of the most haunting questions in the history of American literature,” Litton writes, likening it to our desire to know God.

“’Who is Boo Radley?’ eloquently mirrors the question that underlies our very existence, that should ignite our imaginations and stir us with passion on our spiritual journeys,” Litton writes. “The persistence with which we ask this question defines the vitality of our faith in God.”

In this parable Litton, like the novel’s three children, Scout, Jem and Dill, looks for an answer to that question, making a case for Boo as a loving God looking out for his children. That God is available for all, but too often people are content to label God without seeking to know God, just as the the townsfolk of Maycomb have done with Boo. But the children “are spellbound” by the question of who Boo is and “it is their persistence that ultimately drives Boo into their lives.”

“The children provide a wonderful model of how we should pursue God,” Litton writes. “The children’s act of seeking Boo Radley represents the quintessence of what it means to be people of faith. . . . Scout, Jem and Dill are constantly grappling for answers about Boo that reach beyond the shallow explanations of the detached and impartial town elders.

“The children know Boo is there, but are still seeking, and it is their inquisitiveness that drives them toward relationship with him. It is the wrestling or, more clearly articulated, the seeking that defines a vigorous and burning faith.”

This seeking goes both ways. “Boo Radley is pursuing a relationship with the children, much as God has been chasing after us since . . . well, since the beginning of time.” Boo hides gifts for the children in the knothole of the tree, gifts that “fit the everydayness of the children’s lives, and places them where they will notice -- meeting them where they are.

“I find that God works the same way. When we take the time to observe the day a little more like children do, with a little more inquisitiveness, we begin to see the gifts that God leaves for us in the midst of our routines.”

In the climatic scene at the end, Boo moves from the children’s imaginations into their reality, emerging from his house to save their lives from the drunken assailant who seeks to harm them. This, Litton maintains, reflects a God who still intervenes in the world.

The story ends with Scout and Boo walking hand in hand back to his house. “As she stands at Boo’s front porch, she notices that his view of the neighborhood is completely different from any she has seen. She realizes that from the Radley porch, Boo has a clear view of the ‘entire neighborhood’ -- not just one house. Every place the children frequent -- from Miss Maudie’s yard to their own front porch -- is in sight of Boo’s window. It provides a sobering reminder to us that God’s perspective on our lives is eternal and infinitely broader than our own.

“From the Radley porch, Scout understands not only that Boo’s view of the world is much different than her own, but that he has been vigilantly watching over ‘his children’ season after season.”

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

AN ATHEIST IN THE WOODS


 An atheist was walking through the woods. “What majestic trees! What powerful rivers! What beautiful animals,” he said to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him. He turned to look and saw a 7-foot grizzly bear charge toward him. He ran as fast as he could along the path. He looked over his shoulder and saw that bear was closing on him.

He looked over his shoulder again, and the bear was even closer .... and then ..... he tripped and fell.

Rolling over to pick himself up, he found the bear was right on top of him, reaching toward him with its left paw and raising the right paw to strike.

At that instant the atheist cried out, ”Oh my God!”

Time stopped. 
The bear froze.
The forest was silent.

A bright light shone upon the man, and a voice came out of the sky, "You deny my existence for all these years, you teach others I don't exist and even credit creation to cosmic accident. Do you expect me to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a believer?"

The atheist looked directly into the light. "It would be hypocritical of me to suddenly ask you to treat me as a Christian now, but perhaps you could make the BEAR a Christian?"

A pause.

"Very well," said the voice.

The light went out. The sounds of the forest resumed. And the bear dropped his right arm, brought both paws together, bowed his head and spoke ...  

"Lord, bless this food, which I am about to receive.”

Tuesday, November 9, 2010


"Pain is inevitable, but misery is optional. We cannot avoid pain, but we can avoid joy."
-- Tim Hansel