9/11, Eid-al-Fitr and Truth

Like many people of faith, I celebrated the news a couple weeks ago when the New York City Landmarks Preservation Committee unanimously voted to allow the Cordoba Initiative to build a community center at 47 Park Place, a former Burlington Coat Factory location. I was pleased for several reasons, chief of which is that the LPC made its decision on the basis of facts and not on prejudice.

The center, much like a YMCA or JCC, is there for the community at large, not only for Muslims, and will have performance space, classrooms, and a gymnasium complex. The center will also include dedicated worship space -- yes, a mosque: a mosque that is led by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf, a leading American imam who has a long history of opposing the radicalization of Islam and who has an extensive track record of working to foster religious pluralism in the United States and abroad. It will also include a memorial to the victims of the September 11 attacks.

Both before and since the decision, there’s been a lot of press about the so-called “Ground Zero Mosque,” especially from radio and television talk-show hosts on the far right, who claim that the fifteen-story community and cultural center -- which is actually two blocks away from ground zero -- is an affront to the victims of the September 11 attacks and a victory for radical Islam. It is sad (and rather scary) that so many people believe these distortions and outright lies, and that ignorance and misinformation so easily lead to fear and hatred of our neighbors.

We live in a nation that is increasingly diverse, where people of different languages, cultures, races and religions work together, learn together, play together and live together. Even our own families often reflect this American cultural diversity. None of us can any longer afford to draw lines between “us” and “them.”

Here in Norwalk, we are learning what it means to live in a religiously pluralistic city. People of all faiths, as well as people of no particular faith, share equally in our civic life and, while many people still refer to the United States as “a Christian nation,” that description is much more historical than a reflection of our current reality. We see this religious pluralism expressed in the life of the Norwalk Clergy Association, whose president is a rabbi and whose members include not only Jews and Christians, but also Imam Azzeim Mahmoud and the Al-Madany Islamic Center. Last year, we experienced the richness of interfaith worship as the three Abrahamic faith communities joined together in our church for the community Thanksgiving service.

This is the holy month of Ramadan, when Muslims fast during the daylight hours, focusing on the spiritual disciplines of patience, humility and prayer. During Ramadan, Muslims take part in acts of generosity and charity as part of their spiritual practice. After sunset, the day’s fast is broken with a communal meal, Iftar, which the Al-Madany center has invited clergy from Norwalk’s Jewish and Christian communities to share. This month of spiritual discipline ends with one of the year’s biggest celebrations as Muslims celebrate the three day feast of Eid-al-Fitr.

The Muslim calendar is a lunar based calendar and not solar, like the Georgian calendar, so the dates for Ramdan and Eid-al-Fitr cycle throughout the year. This year, Eid-al-Fitr falls on September 9, 10 & 11. One doesn’t have to be particularly clairvoyant to be able to see that a major Muslim festival falling on September 11 will be misinterpreted by those who do not understand that this is an accident of the calendar, while others will intentionally spread misinformation in order to sow the seeds of conflict.

In the weeks ahead, I’m certain that we’ll all hear conversations about “those #%*@ Muslims celebrating September 11^th.” It would be easy to stand by silently and let those conversations happen around us but, as Christians, it is our duty to be truth-tellers and peace-makers. Even though it may be unpopular, it is our job to defend our Muslim neighbors from slander and to stand with them as they live out the right to free expression of religion that is enjoyed by everyone in our nation. I’m sure that you’ll do your part.

A Day's Worth of Urban Adventure

On Friday, Kimberly, Ian and I took Metro North into Manhattan for the day. We started the day off at the American Museum of Natural History's exhibit on the Silk Road, which connected Xi'an, China and Baghdad and served as the major east-west route for trade in religion, technology, and philosophy as well as for trade goods.

By mid afternoon, we had seen everything we wanted to see at AMNH and went off in search the second part of our day's quest: the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck. Ian discovered the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck online some time ago and has signed up to follow the BGICT on Twitter and Facebook, so it was no trouble finding out that the one-of-a-kind ice cream truck was at Union Square, at the corner of 17th & Broadway.

While I knew that the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck was something of a phenomenon, specializing in exotic topics like wasabi pea dust, bacon, cayenne pepper and olive oil, I was surprised to see a crew from the Food Network Canada was there, interviewing the guys running the truck and several of the customers. I was also surprised at the 20 minute wait to place our orders. When we got to the window, Kimberly and Ian both ordered the "Salty Pimp" cone (vanilla ice cream, dulce de leche, sea salt, and a chocolate coating). When she placed her order, Kimberly managed a bit of an embarrassed giggle (both rare and priceless) which the guy at the window picked up on and teased her about in a truly fabulous way. I picked the "Monday Sundae" (nutella lined waffle cone with twist ice cream, dulce de leche, sea salt and whipped cream). We were all thrilled with our ice cream and proceded to eat it as we wandered through the Union Square Farmer's Market for a while.

Having finished our ice cream, we stopped to buy some pear cider from one of the vendors, then found a park bench to sit on while we enjoyed it. As we all sat chatting, a couple filmmakers came up and asked if they could interview us for a project they were working on about relationships. Kimberly and I agreed and Ian didn't object too loudly, so they started interviewing Kimberly and me about how long we'd been together and where we met. We laughed as we discussed the junior high school Latin Club banquet where we met and how Kimberly was frying squid when I met her and how I was wearing a bed-sheet toga (which was the unofficial uniform for the evening). After signing a couple release forms, the three of us walked up to 32nd St. and 5th Ave. to poke around Koreatown for a place to eat.

The block between 5th Ave and Broadway is a Korean restaurant paradise, with an embarrassment of riches. The first place we looked at was a mandoo (dumpling) restaurant, with a delightfully smiling woman rolling out the mandoo right in the front window. It looked like an inviting place, but we were looking for something a bit more meal-like and made our way up and down both sides of the block before settleing on NY Kom Tang Soot Bul Kal Bi, (32 W. 32nd St.) which claims to be the oldest Korean restaurant in NY and NJ.

Ian wasn't particularly hungry, so he got a large order of mandoo gui (fried beef dumplings). Kimberly and I were both attracted to the kimchi jigae (spicky pickled cabbage soup) and she ordered a combination meal with bulgogi (a Korean beef barbecue) and I had a combination with Kalbi (short-ribs). Seven or eight ponchons (small side dishes) rounded out the more-than-filling meal. Everything was fresh and flavorful. The prices were good. Even better, the restaurant isn't that far from Grand Central Station, so it is an easy place to get to when we're taking the train. We'll definitely be back.

The day finished up with a train ride back to Norwalk, with us arriving home before dark. Not a bad day for the first day of July's vacation!

Silver Lake Report

For many children, this is the season for summer camp. Here in Connecticut, we have a long tradition of reaching the lives of young people through outdoor ministry. In 1957, the same year that our United Church of Christ was formed as a denomination, the Connecticut Conference began using the property now known as “Silver Lake” as a summer camp and conference center. Since then, thanks to the volunteers who give of their time and the pastors and conference staff who work there “on alternate assignment,” thousands of young people have experienced outdoor recreation coupled with Christian education.

When I served Connecticut Conference churches back in the 1990s, I always made a point of spending a week each summer as a dean up at “the lake.” Back then, I ran a conference called “The Clown of God,” named after the book by Tomie dePaula, in which Giovanni, a traveling juggler who has seen better days takes refuge in a church on Christmas Eve and offers the Christ child the only gift that he has. During those weeks at camp, my co-dean and I would teach our kids the skills that they would need to be clowns: juggling, make-up, and skits. We taught them more than that, though, as we discussed the unique gifts each of us can offer to God and in service to all people.

When Ian was old enough to go to summer camp, even though we were living in New Jersey at the time, we brought him up to Silver Lake, knowing that he would not only have a good time at camp, swimming at the waterfront, making s’mores around the campfire and going on hikes, but that he would also find a place where his spirit was nurtured and his faith encouraged.

A couple weeks ago, from July 5-10, I got to be a part of Silver Lake’s summer program for the first time in ten years, when I went up to be a counselor for “Rhythm of the Saints,” a conference that focused on drumming and the rhythms of spirituality. It was exciting to be back at SLCC, working with our conference’s young people, but it was also a lot of fun to spend time with old friends. I got to see other pastors and members of churches that I served years ago, including some of my kids from the Naugatuck church who are now all grown up and leading programs at camp.

Norwalk was well represented, too, with John Ramos, Jr. and Sienna Dryden being on staff this summer, but I also got to spend some time visiting with Nellen Dryden and Minnie Yordon, who came by to visit with their “camp family.” Kat Mulvaney was leading another conference. Beth Yordon was working on the cabin I was staying in and, of course, Tim and Ann Hughes were all over the place, just as you’d expect the camp directors to be.

Highlights of the week were drumming with the kids on water-cooler jugs and various found objects, tackling the high ropes challenge course and climbing Bear Mountain with a group of kids who weren’t all sure that they would succeed, but did. It was a delight to be back at Silver Lake and I’m already looking forward to next summer and spending time with the children of the Connecticut Conference in God’s back yard.

Round Hill Highland Games

Today, Kimberly and I went to the 87th Annual Round Hill Highland Games at Cranbury Park in Norwalk. Last year, the games took place on the Saturday after July 4, so we were away in the Adirondacks. This year, we weren't about to miss it, especially since my mother-in-law recently put in so much hard work altering a kilt that I had somehow mis-ordered. (Thanks, Chris!!!)

So, this morning, after a leisurely breakfast of fresh-baked blueberry muffins and coffee (Thanks, Kimberly!!!), I suited up: Kilt, kilt belt, sporran, hose, garter flashes and sgian dubh, with a clergy shirt and a Tilley hat. I was stylin'.

We arrived at Cranbury Park about 11:00, in plenty of time to get parked and onto the property before the opening ceremony, with a parade of pipe bands and procession of the clans. Norwalk's Mayor Richard Moccia, who was a member of last year's Saints and Sinners Barbecue Team, issued a proclamation and the Rev. David Van Dyke, of the First Presbyterian Church of Stamford offered a first-rate invocation. Each of the clans represented was invited to offer a "battle cry" (which seemed to be each clan's Latin motto) and to come forward and receive a ribbon for their clan flag. Then the festivities really began.

Kimberly and I wandered through Clan Row, where representatives of all of the clans had booths with genealogical information, tartans, and miscellaneous other things of interest. Then, we turned the corner to the vendors' section, where kilt-sellers, bagpipe-purveyers, tartan-traders and plaid-pushers plied their trade. I scoped out all sorts of stuff that I really don't need and managed to withstand temptation -- at least until later.

We made our way to the food vendors, where Kimberly and I bought some pretty good fish and chips, complete with a liberal dosing of malt vinegar, of course. I also got some rather dubious deep-fried haggis balls. ("Gee," you say, "I didn't know that haggises even had balls..." That's very clever of you. Can we please move on, now?) The haggis itself was fairly good, but the deep-frying left the whole thing unpleasantly greasy. In the future, I'll continue to eat my haggis in the traditional way.

After lunch, it was time for us to head back to the games area, where the hammer throw and weight-for-height competions were taking place. The hammer throw makes my shoulders hurt, just watching it, as the competitors stand with their feet firmly planted and whirl the hammer around several times before releasing it, unlike the Olympic hammer throw, where the competitors spin their bodies and use the centrifugal force to propel the hammer. The weight for height just makes me afraid that one of the atheletes is going to misjudge and have the weight come down on their heads. They're both impressive games, but they also both leave me thinking that I've got no business signing up to compete.

When we had had enough of the heavy athletics, Kimberly and I sauntered over to the lemonade stand and then over to the pavilion, where the highland dance competition was going on. We sat and enjoyed the shade as we watched young teenage girls performing the highland fling and the sword dance, then it was back tot he main field to watch several of the pipe bands compete.

After a while, one of my church members, Nancy, showed up and we retraced our steps, while she took in the sights. As the day was drawing to a close, a couple more church members wandered by, including an expatriate Scot who was there with her husband. Helen seemed pleased (amused?) to see me in a kilt, though she opined that a real Scot would never wear a kilt on a day like today because it would be too hot. Of course, they don't even have Summer in Scotland, so the point is moot. Personally, though, I thought the kilt was rather comfortable. The clergy shirt, on the other hand, was awfully warm in thRe afternoon sun, so I guess it is just a matter of relative discomfort.

We stood around, marvelling, as we watched the caber toss, and then the day concluded with the a mass performance by all seventeen pipe bands that had been part of the day's competition. They marched onto the field in two large units, playing "The Minstrel Boy," and concluded with a earth-shaking performance of "Amazing Grace." Kimberly and I are already looking forward to next year and I expect that Ian is, too.

Seventeen pipe bands playing Amazing Grace

(Taken with a really crummy cell-phone camera. Sorry.)

((Did I mention that I hate my cell phone?))

Restaurant Review: Al's Hot Dogs in Naugatuck, CT

This past Saturday, Boys In Hats had a 1:00pm gig at a block party at the Mill Plain Union Church in Waterbury, CT. That morning, Ian and I loaded up the car with the BIH sound system and instruments and headed off up Route 8. As we rolled up the Naugatuck Valley, making better than expected time, Ian and I made a quick decision to stop for a slightly early lunch.

When I worked in Naugatuck back in the late '90s, Al's Hot Dogs (Exit 26 off of Rt. 8 at 248 South Main St. in Naugatuck) was one of my guilty pleasures. Al's son, Ivan, was one of my confirmation students, so I could at least convince myself that I was supporting a church family when I went there, even if I wasn't exactly eating health food when I was there.

Al's is one of the fairly typical roadside hotdog stands that one finds in this part of Connecticut. During the summer months, you stand outside and order at a window and, when your food is ready, they call your number over a loudspeaker. There are picnic tables out front and a porch around the side. There's also limited seating indoors, which makes winter visits possible.

While Al's is primarily a hotdog stand, they've got a fairly extensive menu and you can have almost anything you want, so long as it is fried. From my perspective, however, the main reason for wanting to go is Al's famous "Hippo Dog" which, as I understand the lore, is named after a regular customer who always ordered several of them. Said customer was shaped, so the story goes, much like a hippopotamus. While I'm certain that, if I were to eat enough hippo dogs, I, too, would end up looking like a hippopotamus, I figure that, at the rate I consume them, I'm not in too terribly much danger.

But what, you ask, is a hippo dog? Al's famous hippo dogs are foot-long deep-fried hot dogs, served with chili, cheese, sauerkraut and bacon. Al's has the usual condiments that you can put on them as well, plus two of their own signature relishes. The hot relish is spicy enough that I know several people (Sissies!!!) who avoid it. At some point in the last ten years, Al has added a Hawaiian relish to the condiment table. With a sweet-and-sour flavor, it is quite good, but I prefer the hot relish and some brown mustard to complete the flavor signature of the hippo dog.

Al's is the only place I know that has birch beer on tap. That, along with a side of onion rings completes what I consider the quintissential Al's experience. Of course, there's also the "Bulldozer" burger, which also comes loaded with all kinds of heart-stopping goodness, but it would be silly to have one of those in the same week as a Hippo Dog.

Ian enjoys a Hippo Dog at Al's

Conservative Conservationists??

I am not a Southern Baptist. Even when I was one, I wasn't a very good one. I tended to think for myself a bit too much and usually came to the "wrong" conclusion, at least in the opinion of those who held the strings of power in the Southern Baptist Convention. I tended to side with women, minorities, gays, and the poor, while my old denomination tended to side with straight white men who owned businesses. I tended to think that it was important to interpret scripture as being particular to a certain place and time, rather than "inerrant" or "infallible." I tended to think that it was important to teach science in a biology class, not creationism.

This past week, one of my parishioners sent me a link to a report from National Public Radio's Weekend Edition, where Dr. Russell Moore, Dean of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, KY, was interviewed by Audie Cornish about the recent SBC resolution on the oil spill that is ravaging the Gulf coast.



That resolution (full text here) stated: "God has designed us with a dependence on the natural resources around us and has assigned us a dominion of stewardship and protection of those resources for future generations," and goes on to say "Our God-given dominion over the creation is not unlimited, as though we were gods and not creatures, so therefore, all persons and all industries are then accountable to higher standards than to profit alone."

The resolution continues with a call for the government "to act determinatively and with undeterred resolve to end this crisis; to fortify our coastal defenses; to ensure full corporate accountability for damages, clean-up and restoration; to ensure that government and private industry are not again caught without planning for such possibilities; and to promote future energy policies based on prudence, conservation, accountability, and safety." Wow!

This is a remarkable resolution, at least from the SBC, where the conservatives have long forgotten about conservation, and have simply become far-right-wing culture warriors. It serves as a spark of hope that the SBC may, at least on this one issue, be joining the mainline in having an understanding that a major part of our faith is manifested in protecting the world that God has placed in our care.

Younger evangelicals are less rigid in their positions than the previous generation. While many of their parents' generation still deny the reality of climate change, most younger evangelicals understand the scientific reality, and believe that care for the earth is an important part of their theology.

"Social Justice Evangelicals" like Pres. Jimmy Carter, who last year followed my lead in leaving the SBC and who has spent decades promoting justice through the Carter Center and Habitat for Humanity, and Rev. Jim Wallis at Sojourners have long understood that even a conservative theology leads faithful people to progressive politics (see A Pledge to the Next Generation here). Care for the environment, concern for society's most vulnerable people, opposition to war: all these are core Christian values, which come directly from the Bible. Without drawing theological lines in the sand, Carter and Wallis have both worked to build practical partnerships, even among those who have broader theological disagreements.

While all of the other social resolutions passed at the SBC's annual meeting this year are the expected anti-gay, anti-divorce, pro-male-domination things that you'd expect, this one resolution is like a pinpoint of light in a dark night. It gives me hope that, maybe, there's something that Evangelicals and the rest of Christianity can work on together.

Steel, Leather, Ropework, Pine Tar and Marlin Spikes

Since coming back from Cuba, I've had the opportunity to work with Amistad on two occasions. First, I met the ship in New London, CT, for the formal homecoming celebration, which involved a lot of events in conjunction with the Customs House Museum. This past Friday, I was back with the crew for the Wooden Boat Show at Mystic Seaport, where we had more than 700 people visit the schooner over the course of the day.

Aboard a tall ship, the general rule is that you don't go on deck, whether you're on duty or not, without your rig. At its barest minimum, a sailors rig consists of a knife and marlinspike. Mine started out as a Myerchin fixed blade rigging knife and spike, which came with a (rather crummy) nylon sheath.

Over the years, my rig has evolved to include a bit more. I quickly replaced the right-handed sheath with a leather sheath that I made for myself. A couple years ago, one of the blacksmiths at Mystic Seaport made me a marlin spike, which has replaced the glittering chrome one that came with my knife. That, of course, required a second generation sheath to accommodate the new spike. I've rounded out the rig with a leather and brass lanyard keeper, a leatherman supertool, a mini mag-lite (with red lens for night vision), and a matching red carabiner for securing the flashlight's lanyard or other general uses. All of it hangs on a US Army "Class A" belt, though I'd love to replace the belt with a leather one, when I come across a suitable one.

My leatherwork has had many people admire (and copy) it. I made my sheath out of heavy grade leather that I wet formed so that the knife and spike would both fit in it perfectly, locking in place instead of having to have a keeper strap to fiddle with -- a particular nuissance when working aloft. As a final step, I treated the sheath in the cuir bouili method, a technique I learned in college when I was part of the Society for Creative Anachronism and was interested in learning how to make leather scale armor. To do this, I immersed the completed sheath in melted paraffin. (See, folks, those old church candles DO still have some good use left in them!) The real benefit of the cuir bouili method is that the finished leather does not absorb moisture, so it never loses its form, even in the wet conditions that a sailor's rig is constantly exposed to. Finally, a matching lanyard keeper was a cinch to make. The lanyards are made of tarred seine twine, as old-style tarred marline is somewhat difficult to find.

This past Friday, I stopped in at the booth of knife-maker Capt. John Johnson at the Wooden Boat Show. His knives were fantastic and we got to talking about the sheaths that he included with them, which were only loosely fit to the knives. We discussed the wet-forming and wax-hardening techniques that I use on my rigging knife sheaths and I volunteered to bring my rig by later in the day so he could see the end result. Shortly after 5:00, I showed back up and we spent a good bit of time in show and tell.

As I was leaving, Capt. John, invited me to take one of the marlinspikes tht he had made -- out of the actual spikes of swordfish, with beautiful and functional knot work. (Go ahead and click on the picture so you can see a large version of his beautiful work, as well as the nice work that the Mystic Seaport blacksmith did.) Capt. John finished his knot work on this spike with pine tar, so it'll last forever and has a fantastic smell. As it doesn't have anywhere to attach a lanyard, I won't be wearing it as part of my rig, but it'll have a prominent spot in my ditty bag, right next to my ropeworking palm, sailmaking needles, whipping twine and cake of beeswax.


As it turns out, the marlin fish takes its name from the marlinspike, not the other way around. The fish, in fact, has only been referred to as a marlin since about 1917, whereas the name of the marlinspike (also "marlinespike") tool has been around since 1626. Marline, (also "marlin" or "marling") the two-stranded line, has been around since 1375 and owes its name to the Dutch "Marl," meaning "to twist" and "Lijn," meaning "line." Who knew???