Povey Prattle

The art of the insult (via my friend Tess P.)

2012-01-30T18:52:00.000-05:00

These are glorious insults from an era before the English language got boiled down to 4-letter words.

A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease."
"That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."

"He had delusions of adequacy." - Walter Kerr

"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." - Winston Churchill

"I have never killed a man, but I have read many obituaries with great pleasure." - Clarence Darrow

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway).

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." - Moses Hadas

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." - Mark Twain

"He has no enemies, but is intensely disliked by his friends.." - Oscar Wilde

"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend, if you have one." – George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill

"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second .... if there is one." - Winston Churchill, in response.

"I feel so miserable without you; it's almost like having you here." - Stephen Bishop

"He is a self-made man and worships his creator." - John Bright

"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb

"He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others." - Samuel Johnson

"He is simply a shiver looking for a spine to run up." - Paul Keating

"In order to avoid being called a flirt, she always yielded easily." - Charles, Count Talleyrand

“He loves nature in spite of what it did to him." - Forrest Tucker

“Why do you sit there looking like an envelope without any address on it?" - Mark Twain

“His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae West

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go." - Oscar Wilde

"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts... for support rather than illumination." - Andrew Lang (1844-1912)

Cats and Atheists

2012-01-29T19:30:00.000-05:00

This is not one of my cats. But it is a genuine photo' of "Tootsie" who lives with Paul (a Facebook friend) up in Massachusetts. Tootsie is sitting on the back of a couch as she looks out of a window.

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I like this cartoon!

Maybe a smile or a grin. Even perhaps a giggle

2012-01-28T19:08:00.000-05:00

Resisting fundamentalism - a dreadful poster

2012-01-27T18:19:00.000-05:00

This poster has gone viral on the internet today. I find it to be utterly appalling. It makes me feel embarrassed to be an Episcopalian.

It is of course historically inaccurate on two counts.

First: We have not resisted fundamentalism since 1784. Fundamentalism as a major factor in American Protestantism did not emerge until the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries.

Second: The assertion that Jesus ”resisted the Pharisees” is a rather simplistic interpretation of scripture. What we see in the gospels is that Jesus had disagreements with some of the Pharisees.

In fact his only encounter with a named Pharisee – Nicodemus – shows a Jesus who is gracious and thoughtful. Never did he resist the Pharisee Nicodemus.

It is plain wrong to suggest that Jesus resisted the Pharisees - what all of them!

What I find to be most objectionable about the poster is that it seeks to

define the Episcopal Church on the basis of what we are against. That’s a

miserable “lowest common denominator” identity. Is that the best we can

offer in the name of the Lord Jesus?

I have two further caveats.

First: A blanket disparaging or disrespecting “one liner” about Pharisees ignores the fact that modern day rabbinical Judaism is deeply rooted in the teachings of Pharisees. Instead of dissing the Pharisees we could and should be rejoicing in the ways in which Judaism has kept alive the light and teaching of Torah.

Second: We are to be pitied if the best we can say about fundamentalists is that we resist them. It’s become almost a way of life in some of the Episcopal parishes which I know. Typically the preacher or teacher will throw in a one-liner, a cheap shot against fundamentalism, evincing giggles and guffaws from congregants. I confess that I have done this. It feels good, but it does nothing to build up (edify) the people of God.

There are various reasons why I disagree with fundamentalism. I could outline them piece by piece. But God have mercy on my soul if in such a process I do little more than disrespecting my fundamentalist sisters and brothers.

Two final words:

I live in Sarasota FL and am filled with admiration for the ways in which the fundamentalist and evangelical Churches care for the poor. I will not resist that!

Just south of here in Englewood FL a parishioner in an Episcopal parish there began to think about the poor and/or homeless folks in town. She began an ad-hoc ministry of feeding and clothing (and providing shelter in ultra cold nights - yes we have a few of these in Florida).

This ministry developed and grew. As it did so the parish sought partners in the wider Christian community. Guess which church is the prime partner. It is the Four Square Church, (Pentecostal). That's irresistible!

Nuff said.

Funny Times

2012-01-26T19:28:00.001-05:00

My friends Laurie and Patrick give me a Christmas gift each year. It’s a monthly newspaper of humour called “Funny Times”..

Funny Times never ceases to amuse me. I always chuckle as I read it.

One of my favourite columns is entitled “Ruminations”

Here are a few entries in “Ruminations” from the February 2012 edition.

We are most likely to ask for advice when we know the answer but want a different one.

I only say “that makes sense” because I refuse to say, “you are right”.

Change is good as long as I don’t have to do anything different.

“Why did you lie to me?” Clearly because I didn’t think I’d be caught.

I am not the most creative person, but when it comes to rationalising doing something that’s bad for me, my imagination knows no limits.

See http://www.funnytimes.com/

My new vocation as a sign writer

2012-01-24T19:27:00.000-05:00

For dog lovers

2012-01-23T19:12:00.000-05:00

POEM "One More Brevity" by Robert Frost (1874-1963)

(N.B. "Sirius" is know n as the dog star).

I opened the door so my last look
Should be taken outside a house and book.
Before I gave up seeing and slept,
I said I would see how Sirius kept
His watchdog eye on what remained
To be gone into, if not explained.

But scarcely was my door ajar,
When, past the leg I thrust for bar,
Slipped in to be my problem guest,
Not a heavenly dog made manifest,
But an earthly dog of the carriage breed,
Who, having failed of the modern speed,
Now asked asylum, and I was stirred
To be the one so dog-preferred.

He dumped himself like a bag of bones.
He sighed himself a couple of groans,
And, head to tail, then firmly curled,
Like swearing off on the traffic world.

I set him water. I set him food.
He rolled an eye with gratitude,
Or merely manners, it may have been,
But never so much as lifted chin.
His hard tail loudly smacked the floor,
As if beseeching me, “Please, no more;
I can’t explain, tonight at least.”
His brow was perceptibly trouble-creased.

So I spoke in terms of adoption, thus:
“Gusty, old boy, Dalmatian Gus,
You’re right, there’s nothing to discuss.
Don’t try to tell me what’s on your mind,
The sorrow of having been left behind
Or the sorrow of having run away.
All that can wait for the light of day.
Meanwhile feel obligation-free;
Nobody has to confide in me.”

‘Twas too one-sided a dialogue,
And I wasn’t sure I was talking Dog.
I broke off, baffled, but all the same,
In fancy, I ratified his name;
Gusty, Dalmatian Gus, that is,
And started shaping my life to his,
Finding him in his right supplies
And sharing his miles of exercise.

Next morning the minute I was about,
He was at the door to be let out.
As much as to say, “I have paid my call.
You mustn’t feel hurt if now I’m all
For getting back somewhere, or further on.”
I opened the door, and he was gone.
I was to taste in little the grief
That comes of dogs’ lives being so brief.
Only fraction of ours, at most,
He might have been the dream of a ghost,
In spite of the way his tail had smacked
My floor, so hard and matter-of-fact.

And things have been going so strangely since,
I wouldn’t be too hard to convince,
I might even claim he was Sirius.
Think of presuming to call him Gus!
The star itself, heaven’s greatest star,
Not a meteorite but an avatar,
Who had made this overnight descent
To show by deeds he didn’t resent
My having depended on him so long,
And yet done nothing about it in song.

A symbol was all he could hope to convey,
An intimation, a shot of ray,
A meaning I was supposed to seek,
And finding, not necessary speak.

Smokey Joe's Cafe - out of my comfort zone at two levels.

2012-01-22T19:52:00.001-05:00

Venice, Florida.

(pop. 20,000), (median age 62), (96% white), (median income for households $37,500). (15 or so miles south of Sarasota FL where I live).

Home of the Venice Theatre.

That’s where I enjoyed the show “Smokey Joe’s Cafe” this afternoon. The revue featured the music and lyrics of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller.

Maybe you’ve never heard of them.

But surely you know songs from the 1950’s and 60’s, such as “Fools fall in love”, “On Broadway”, “Yakety Yak”, “Teach me how to shimmy”, “Hound Dog”, “I’m a woman”, “Jailhouse Rock”, “Fools fall in love”, “Spanish Harlem”, and “Stand by me”.

They are all Leiber/Stoller songs.

These songs (and many others) were sung with skill, verve and energy by the nine singers, backed up by a six person ensemble. It was a toe tapping event.

Those who know me well will wonder why I (classical music and opera fan) was at such a show.

To be sure it was outside of my comfort zone.(1)

Well, I was there because one of the singers/actors is Colleen Sudduth.

Colleen and her husband Gary Buchmeier (together with their young children Sophie and Anna) are stellar members of St. Boniface Church – my home parish.

I went beyond my comfort zone to honour a good St. B’s parishioner. And it was well worth while! I loved every minute (except for the first 20 minutes which I missed).

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This leads me to beyond my comfort zone (2).

Although my ticket and calendar indicated that the show was due to start of 2:00 p.m., I convinced myself that the starting time was 2:30 p.m.

I arrived (in good time I thought) at 2:20 p.m. The Theatre seemed to be semi deserted. I presumed that that show had been under-sold.

But of course, I was late, and the show had already begun. My seat was in the front row of the balcony. I walked along that front row – treading on too many toes, but I could not find my seat. So I sat on the stairs.

I had become the person that I usually despise - the late and clumsy arriver.

At intermission I apologised to a couple whose toes I had trodden on. They were very sweet and forgiving.

Then I went in search of my reserved seat. It turned out that one of the ushers had taken it for the first part of the show, convinced as he/she was that I was a “no show”.

I relaxed in the seat. I overheard the couple to my right as one of them said: “what about that guy who walked down the row in front of us after the show had started".

I confessed “it was I”. I apologised, and told them the story of my incompetence. They laughed, and assured me that they were happy that I had found my seat.

OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE (1): Thank you to Colleen for being part of “Smokey Joe’s Cafe”. I would never have attended had she not been one of the stars.

OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE (2) Thank you to the patrons who were so nice in the face of my stupidity and clumsiness.

Quotations attributed to Sir Winston Churchill

2012-01-21T19:51:00.004-05:00

“There are a terrible lot of lies going about the world, and the worst of it is that half of them are true.”

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.”

“You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

“There are a terrible lot of lies going about the world, and the worst of it is that half of them are true.”

“I am easily satisfied with the very best.”

Fellowship of Believers in Sarasota. The lamest church sign ever

2012-01-20T18:42:00.001-05:00

Many church signs are lame.

Some are lamer than others.

Today I saw the lamest ever.

It is at the “Fellowship of Believers” on nearby 10^th St. here in SRQ.

(The “background” is the recent cold snap here in SRQ).

The sign reads:

“Too cold to change this sign.

The message is inside”

OMG!

Memories of the Devizes area

2012-01-19T19:16:00.000-05:00

My "best friend" in olden days was Jeff Davies. We never ceased to be friends, but we lost touch over the years.

Thanks to the Internet we have been back in contact. We have exchanged memories of our childhood and youth, and for this blog, of the times when I went with him to a farm owned by his uncle and aunt in Wiltshire U.K.

Here are some photo's from way back then. They are very precious to me. You will see his Uncle George and Auntie May (she was his father's sister). They lived at Marsh Farm, Lydeway ( a hamlet within Urchfont) in Wiltshire.

You will also see Uncle George and his tractor, and also a picture of the house at Marsh Farm.

And there is a picture of Salem Chapel. Devizes - the meeting house for the Plymouth Brethren - a "denomination" in which Jeff and I came to faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Marsh Farmhouse

Uncle George Lancaster and his tractor

The Lancasters - Uncle George and Auntie May

Salem Chapel, Devizes, Wiltshire

Jewish and Arabic?

2012-01-18T19:36:00.000-05:00

Jack Marshall is (was) a poet of great distinction. He was born in Brooklyn in 1936.

His father Albert was an Arabic speaking Jewish man, who was born in Baghdad (Iraq), moved to Manchester (U.K.) and later migrated to the United States. His family anglicised their last name from its original Arabic to “Marshall”

Jack’s mother Grace (in Arabic it is Garaz) was also a migrant. She was born to a prominent Jewish family in Aleppo (Syria), a family which ended up on these American shores. She also spoke only Arabic, and refused to learn English when she arrived in the U.S.A.

Arabic was the in home-language of this Jewish couple. Yes indeed - a Jewish couple whose most comfortable language was Arabic. In fact they always referred to G-d as “Allah”.

Albert and Grace Marshall had an arranged marriage. Sadly it was also a very unhappy union. In the tight knit Syrian Jewish community in which they lived, divorce was out of the question. Loveless marriages were not uncommon in that community

I have read all about this in Jack Marshall’s memoir “From Baghdad to Brooklyn- Growing up in a Jewish-Arabic family in Midcentury America” (Coffee House Press 2005).

It’s a haunting tale about the Jewish-Arabic heritage as it was lived out in mid 20^th century America.

Grace was an un-happy and pessimistic woman. Conscious of the former status of her family in Syria, and now reduced to a hard-scrabble life in Brooklyn, she was unable to love her husband and three children.

Jack (her son, and the author) once asked her why she always expected the worst. She replied “I don’t expect the worst, I expect the expected”. (“These were her terms of engagement with a not-to-friendly future” comments her son Jack).

(From your blogger: At this point, whilst writing last night I fell sound asleep at the computer. I woke up two hours later!)

Blog resumed on Friday morning.

Albert Marshall never made much money. He held various jobs, and owned a couple of businesses. But he never became wealthy. He withdrew into semi-silence, bitterly saddened by the misery of the marriage.

Jack remembered that his father often said: “Mind you, make money in due time, but don’t do time for making money”

Much of Jack’s time and that of his brother was spent at the shul. Prayers were, or course in Hebrew, but the sermons were in Arabic.

Jack remembers their first English speaking (and preaching) Rabbi. He was well versed in the Babylonian Talmud, and in the writings of the great Rabbis.

Once, when preaching against arrogance he said: “Adam was created last of all creatures on the eve of the Shabbat. Why? So that if a person becomes too proud, he may be reminded, ‘the mosquito was created before you’”

And in another sermon: “Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a good person is like expecting a bull not to charge you because you are a vegetarian”.

Jack Marshall paints a vivid picture of life in Brooklyn in the 1940’s and 1950’s as a member of a minority within a minority (Jewish-Arabic amongst Jews from eastern Europe). He spins of good yarn of home life, school, play, Hebrew school, and boyhood friendships. Having been lovingly critical of his parents he mourned them deeply when they passed. He speaks of his love for a sister, Renee, who died of cancer in her fifties, and for his brother Nat.

He also recounts his encounters with the big wide world of art, music, science and philosophy - encounters which would lead him away from Judaism and into atheism.

Closing words on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr Day

2012-01-16T19:05:00.000-05:00

Via my friend Susan H

"Although the Church has been called to combat social evils,it
has often remained silent behind the anesthetizing security
of stained-glass windows.... How often the Church has been an echo rather than a voice, a tail-light behind the Supreme
Court and other secular agencies, rather than a headlight guiding men and women progressively and decisively to higher levels of understanding." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Sermon for Sunday 15th January 2012.

2012-01-15T18:57:00.002-05:00

Sermon for January 15^th 2012.

The Revd. J. Michael Povey, at St. Boniface Church, Sarasota FL.

1 Samuel 3: 1-18

As women and men are ordained into various ministries in the Episcopal Church they are required to state that they believe “The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the word of God, and to contain all things necessary for salvation”.

“The Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments”. Not just the New. We need to be reminded of this for a number of reasons.

First, because what we call the Old Testament is in fact the only “bible” which Jesus, the disciples, and the earliest Christians knew. The teachings of Jesus and of the early Church leaders are dependent upon, and arise from, the Old Testament.

Second, because we cannot fully understand the New Testament unless we know the Old.

So much of what we read in the epistles and gospels is rooted in that much older tradition.

Third, because we need to be delivered from the facile argument that the Old Testament God is a God of judgment and the New Testament God is a God of mercy. There is an enormous amount of mercy in the Old Testament. There is more than enough judgment in the New Testament.

Both Testaments affirm that judgment is good, and that judgment is necessary.

In fact we shall never fully comprehend mercy unless we first understand and value judgment.

The bit we read from Samuel is part of a much larger story. It is a story about judgment.

The big story is of a number of small clans or tribes, led by local chiefs (known as “judges”), who are consolidating and enlarging their territory. They are moving towards nationhood and monarchy.

Most of the clans had local shrines, places of sacrifice to God or to the gods. Fertility rituals were practised in many of the shrines.

But the chief shrine was the one in Shiloh. Here rested the great tent, also known as the tabernacle, which had been a portable shrine as the people moved from Egypt to Canaan. In common with many other shrines, there was an exclusive and holy place at its heart. But in this holy place there was no idol, or sacred pole, or totem. Instead there was the ark, a large richly decorated wooden box.

Within the ark (it was alleged) were the tablets of the law, Aaron’s rod which budded, and a piece of manna. This was the shrine of the one true and only God, the Holy One, who had delivered the people from slavery. This was a God who could not be seen, nor should be represented in art or carving. This shrine carried a message: “The Holy One of Israel is with us”.

But shrines have shrine-keepers, and shrine keepers can become corrupt. At the Shiloh shrine it was the sons of the priest Eli, named Hophni and Phineas who were corrupt.

People would bring meat to be offered in sacrifice. It was the rule that the whole piece of meat be offered. Then, whilst it was boiling or roasting, the priests were allowed to insert a three pronged fork, and whatever bit of meat came out on the fork they could use for their own food. But these two scoundrels insisted that the whole piece of meat be given to them before the sacrifice. They would then cut off the uncooked the fat to make the offering, whilst keeping the lean meat for them-selves.

Hophni and Phineas also allowed ritual prostitution at the entrance to the shrine, and availed themselves of the prostitutes.

Their father, Eli the Priest, remonstrated with them, but they would not listen to the voice of their father. Eli did nothing to remedy the situation, even after a nameless man of God warned him that God’s judgment was at hand.

Hophni and Phineas cared more for their own needs than they cared for the worship of God.

In the process, Eli lost his vision. The text says that his eyesight had become dim. It’s a play on words, indicating that Eli had also lost his vision for God’s word and glory.

In the midst of all this, God speaks again, this time not through a man of God, but by a very unlikely source: - Eli’s go-fer, a young acolyte named Samuel. He is entirely reluctant to pass on God’s word, but Eli, perhaps with his last gasp of “vision” instructs the lad that he must speak God’s truth – even though it be a word of judgment.

This part of the saga ends, when in a fit of desperation, and in yet another battle with their coastal enemies the Philistines, the Israelites took the Ark with them into battle - as if it were a totem, a good luck charm. Israel was defeated in this skirmish. Hophni and Phineas were killed in battle. The Philistines captured the ark and took it away. The news reached Eli. He keeled over backwards and died at age 98.

The wife of Phineas was heavy with child. When she heard of the death of her father-in-law and of her husband she gave birth to a son.

Upon hearing of the loss of the ark she named the child Ichabod – which means “the glory has departed from Israel”. Perhaps that was the ultimate judgment - that God’s very presence and glory was withdrawn from Israel.

We shall never fully appreciate mercy unless we first understand and value judgment.

Congregations come under God’s judgment.

We shall be under the judgment of God if we, as a congregation, care for our own needs more than we care for the worship of God, (as did Hophni and Phineas). We must be reminded that the Church was never meant to “meet our needs”. It was meant to remind us is to remind us that the worship of God is paramount.

We shall be under the judgment of God if we, as a congregation, loose our vision, (as did Eli). Myopic self interest destroys congregations, and brings God’s judgment.

The vision is of not caring for our own needs, but of sharing in the work of bringing all things and peoples into reconciliation with God and God’s creation. That’s the vision which will sustain and renew us. If we lose the vision we may lose God.

Athletes value judgement - they call it coaching.

Scientists know that they need judgment –they call it peer review.

Artists and musicians value judgment – they call it “perfecting their works”.

A mature congregation, as is St. Boniface Church at its best, should with fear and trembling look for the judgment of God lest we should arrive here one day to discover that God has gone elsewhere, and we have become St. Ichabod’s Mausoleum.

Hophni and Phineas with Steak and Kidney Pie.

2012-01-14T18:59:00.000-05:00

The first reading at Church tomorrow is chapter 3 of the first book of Samuel. It has to do with the call of Samuel to be a prophet.

I am preaching on this reading at 11:15 a.m.

In order to understand the context of the story I read the first four chapters of first Samuel.

As I wrote my sermon “spell check” had great problems with some of the names from the story, viz – Hophni, Phineas and Ichabod!

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About 25 years ago (I exaggerate) I gave a can of “Fray Bentos” Steak and Kidney pie to my pal Ben, with the promise that we could eat in on a cold day here in South West Florida.

Today was that cold day! Ben and I ate it, together with our friend Bob.

Many American friends of mine turn up their noses, or simulate a “gagging” noise at the very mention of Steak and Kidney pie.

But even Bob (no “foodie” he) agreed that it was delicious.

I have two more cans of this in my larder. I have been hoarding them for use in case of a major catastrophe. I’ve had them for at least five years, cos I know that they travelled with me from Cambridge to Sarasota.

I will ignore any “use by” dates – I think that they are good for at least another generation.

If you are very well behaved you may discover that I have left them to you in my will.

“Steak and Kidney Pie” is a British delicacy. In my mind it ranks right up there with Faggots, with Pork Pie, and with Kippers!

The French have no concept of good food.

Amish in Florida (more specifically in Sarasota)

2012-01-13T19:02:00.001-05:00

http://amishamerica.com/florida-amish/#neighborhood

My brother Martyn, my nephew Sam and I enjoyed ice-cream at Big-Olafs - Mennonite/Amish owned ice cream parlour.

I get most of my produce at Yoder's Market - also Mennonite/Amish owned.

Bruff and flustrated

2012-01-11T19:53:00.000-05:00

I dreamt the other night that one of the people in my dream was described as being “bruff”. I knew exactly what it meant in the dream.

Then I woke up, and puzzled for five or ten minutes. I could not remember whether or not “bruff” is a real word.

It’s not, but I think that it could be. We should use it to describe someone who is both “brusque” and “rough”.

The dream reminded me of a woman I knew who often said that she was “flustrated”. It was nice combination of “flustered” and “frustrated”.

I got a bit flustrated last week when at the Doctor’s office a clerk told me (in a loud voice which could be heard by other patients) that my account was in arrears in the princely sum of $13 and unless I paid it immediately the delinquent amount would be handed over to a bill collection agency.

I was not in the least bit bruff, but I reminded her that my track record is to pay bills promptly, usually within a week or receipt.

I was bothered, so I wrote a very polite letter to my Doctor, letting her know of my displeasure. The Doctor handed my letter on to an administrator.

I received a reply today.

It read in part “Let me start by apologising to you. It is never our intention to make our patient’s feel uncomfortable when they come into our office. You are not in collection status and she should not have stated that you were. She misread the information on the computer. What she read was your date of service... and not the statement date. She has since been put through more training”.

It was a good and thoughtful reply to my letter, and it restored my good feelings about the Group Practice which I use.

I am glad that I complained, and I like to think that my complaint and the administrator’s response will help ensure that other patients will not be given “duff” information”.

Dumb animals?

2012-01-09T19:55:00.000-05:00

My dog and my two cats can:

See things which I cannot see.

Hear things which I cannot hear.

Smell things which I cannot smell.

Makes me feel dumb!

And I say to myself........

2012-01-08T20:17:00.000-05:00

.... what a wonderful day.

I was “up and at it” (as usual) by 5:00 a.m. today.

By 9:00 a.m. I had walked Penne twice, had my breakfast, and fed the cats.

I had also taken care of the “three S’s”: showered, shaved and s..... (you can fill in that word).

At 9:15 a.m. I left my good dog Penne with her local care-givers Ron and Lee. (As I let her jump out of my car she tried to run home, but once she was in their house she relaxed and settled down).

10:00 a.m. saw me leading the St. Boniface Sunday adult bible class. There were about 30 people in attendance

We’ll be reading a lot from St. Mark’s Gospel this year, so I read about six chapters of Mark aloud (without interruption), hoping that we could all hear it “anew” – i.e. as if we had never heard it before.

I know that many of us heard it with fresh ears. Some folks said that they had heard it “as if they were there”. It all speaks well of the power of story-telling.

At 11:15 a.m. I presided at the third of St. Boniface’s Sunday morning services. There was more than a decent attendance, and our “training choir” (the Schola) sang well and to great effect - conducted by our good musician Neil Page (he is an Englishman from Exeter who lives here with his wife Sue for part of each year).

The ever-splendid Barbara Roth Donaldson was at the organ. Our interim Rector (Dean Taylor) preached.

I shot out of Church as soon as it was decent, and rushed up to “Marina Jack’s” – a “pretty good” restaurant right on Sarasota’s marina and bay-front.

(‘Twas a tough drive since Sarasota was awash with “Harley” bikers, here for their annual “Thunder on the Bay” gathering. One does not tangle with Harley bikers!.)

Once at “Marina Jack’s I threw caution to the wind and used their valet parking service. ‘Twas the only thing to do since every “free” parking space was already taken.

I met my good pals Ben and Bob at the restaurant. They both lunched on Eggs Benedict. I contented with a simple spinach salad.

We hoved off after lunch, and headed to Sarasota’s Van Wezel Performing Arts Centre. It’s less than a mile away from the restaurant, but such was the volume of traffic that the wee journey took us about twenty minutes.

We were there for a fabulous concert by the Sarasota Orchestra. In the first part we heard Mozart’s Piano Concerto # 21 - a splendid piece indeed. I’ve heard it many times, and it never ceases to delight.

After the intermission we listened to Rachmaninoff’s “Symphonic Dances op 45” – composed in 1940.

I was raised to believe that nothing good had been composed in the classical repertoire since the death of Johannes Brahms in 1897. So was prepared to be unhappy with this classical music which had been composed just four years before my birth.

Instead – I heard music which had me sitting on the edge of my seat. The piece has wonderful melodies, fascinating and unusual harmonies, and fabulous syncopation.

I was enchanted. What a wonderful bit of music in which strings (including harp), brass, woodwinds, piano, and timpani all play a vital part, (even the lowly triangle stars in this music).

So I was on a high as I drive home. Penne was also on a high as a retrieved her from her dog-sitters’ home, (where she had been an angel).

Good food.

Good church.

Good music.

Good dog!

Good friends.

Lord above - I am so blessed and privileged!

Sarasota Newspapers

2012-01-07T18:47:00.001-05:00

In Sarasota we have a weekly “freebie” newspaper which is published in four editions: Sarasota, East County, Longboat Key and Siesta Key. It is distributed on racks in various stores, and in our local libraries. Thus I do not get to read it every week - it all depends whether I happen to be in a store or the library towards the end of each week.

The editorial policy of the paper is drearily predictable. It has a manifestly libertarian slant.

I read the December 29^th edition on 5^th January – the day on which I picked it up at a health food store.

The editorial had a “Wish List” for 2012 which included the following;

• That the right candidate is elected to lead the country and reverse the destructive, anti-American agenda of the present administration.

That pissed me off. So here is what I wrote to the editor.(I have masked the name of the paper since I have no desire to give it any free publicity). Locals will know!

Dear Editor

I was unable to retrieve a copy of the December 29th 2011 S------- O------- until Thursday 5th January 2012, so this letter will probably arrive too late to be considered for publication.

Nonetheless I take issue with the part of your "Wish List" which refers to ".....the destructive, anti-American agenda of the present administration".

This may have been a "one liner" designed to appeal to those who support the radical agenda of the Tea Party and sundry Libertarians. It may well provide grist for the mill for assorted "birthers" and "Obama is a secret Muslim" conspiracy theorists. But it flies in the face of the facts.

The administration has continued the Bush-era policies of supporting American banks and other financial bodies - thus helping to avert what could have been a total melt-down of our capitalist system.

The administration enabled timely financial resources to "all-American" companies such as General Motors - thus helping to prevent what would have otherwise been disastrous bankruptcies.

The administration has announced a new defense policy, which as one conservative commentator described as "right out of the Donald Rumsfeld playbook".

The administration is enabling albeit slow growth in the American economy, and, to be sure an all too slow growth in jobs. This in itself is remarkable in the face of what is an international recession, and a nay-saying House of Representatives.

Only the most convoluted and obscurantist logic could describe any of this as anti-American.

We are fortunate to live in this beloved Country where differences of opinion are to be valued inasmuch as they often shed light on complicated or difficult matters. But to slate this Administration as anti-American sheds no light. In fact it creates heat. It is worthy of the "school of Joseph McCarthy type innuendo", but it is hard for me to recognise it as responsible journalism. That leads me to wonder if the O------- Group is so irresponsible in its editorial policy, can it be trusted to be responsible in its news gathering.

Yours faithfully,

J. Michael Povey

Parlez-Vous Français?

2012-01-06T20:13:00.000-05:00

Just ahead of me at the check-out in my local Winn-Dixie were an older couple - he rather gaunt and skinny, she quite short and needing to use a walking stick.

I soon sussed that they were French Canadians, with but a smattering of the English language.

Their transaction took a long time as they tried to figure out how many American dollars were needed. The shop clerk stood impassive, with not a hint of expression on her face.

The older woman dropped her walking stick. I retrieved it.

The shop manager had inadvertently removed their cart, so the old man walked slowly to get another one.

They began their walk out of the store.

The woman, wearied by all of this sat down to rest a while on a bench near the store front.

As I walked passed them I summoned my limited French language, and uttered a cheery “au revoir, bon chance”.

That will not secure my nomination to L'Académie française, but it did evoke warm smiles from these Canadian shoppers.

This, that, and none of the other

2012-01-05T19:31:00.000-05:00

If you have checked out the photo’s of my trip to Australia on Flickr, do hit the tab which reads “details”. There you will discover that each photo’ is identified, and that here and now I have added comments which describe the context.

My diet is fairly strict. It includes lots of fruit, vegetables, grains and beans. I eat mostly white meat. I restrict my intake of dairy products – though I have a soft spot for cheese. Once in a while I break out. For lunch today I ate eggs and bacon with toasted Ciabatta bread. It was “heavenly”!

Why is it that people with right wing political convictions are all against regulations until they are elected to condominium/housing association boards? Then they become the strictest enforcers of rules and regulations.

My neighbour across the street is Betty. She is unfailingly cheerful. She is always filled with good will and gracious thoughts. I am glad that we are neighbours.

I have a splendid Primary Care Physician. She is second to none in her professional skill, and in her “bedside manner”. But she always runs late. Yesterday I had not been “called” some 25 minutes after my scheduled appointment. So I walked out. Today I penned her very gentle letter, reminding her that my time is as valuable as her time. I acknowledged that she is “caught up” in the ghastly bureaucratic of the dysfunctional American Health care system. We the consumers must keep up our protests until the health care system is re-designed in favour of the patient.

Speaking of which. There is no such thing as “Obama-care”. Whatever the impact is, or will be, of recent health care reforms, do remember that they were voted in by majorities in the House and in the Senate. It was only after those votes that the President signed the bill and made it law.

My check/cheque book balance was out of synch with the bank statement. As I attempted to reconcile the two I discovered that I had written a check/cheque for $360:00, but had entered into my cheque/check book register as $36:00. Wow – a $324 :00 difference against me. It will be beans and rice for the rest of the month (only joking!)

In simpler times

2012-01-04T20:26:00.004-05:00

I suppose that as we get older a number of things happen:

1. We are reunited with memories from earlier days.

2. Those memories seem to be very tender/precious/valuable.

3. We remember that our parents’ memories from their earlier days used to bore us, but now we wish that our Mums and Dads were still with us so that we could hear their memories all over again.

4. We know that the oral tradition is as valuable as is that which is written. So it is that we know that story-telling is a powerful way of linking generation to generation. (For instance, I treasure the memory of the stories from my paternal grand-mother Sarah – [Sally] - Bennett Povey. a.k.a. “Nanny”. Her father was a coal miner in the open cast pits in Easton. She, as a school-girl, saw Queen Victoria. Can you imagine that!)

Now in 2012 I remember Queen Victoria as if I (not my “Nanny”) had seen her.

My latent memories from sixty or so years ago have been re-ignited as a result of my re-connection with a friend from my boyhood and youth, Jeffrey Davies. He was my best pal.

Our e-mails have been so very pleasant and pleasurable. They have taken me back to times which I had almost forgotten – the times when we visited his Auntie May - she was his father’s sister, not his grand-mother’s sister as I indicated in my entry yesterday. Auntie May lived with her husband George (Lancaster) on a farm near Devizes in Wiltshire.

On that farm we collected eggs, watched the cows as they were milked, romped around in the hay barn, and wandered the fields and meadows.

On that farm we were engulfed with the generous love of Jeff’s Auntie May and Uncle George.

It was a simpler time: with no T.V., Internet, or Mobile ‘phones. It was not necessarily better than these days. But it was indeed simpler.

A picture is worth......

2012-01-03T19:49:00.000-05:00

As a result of the marvels of the internet I have been cyberly reunited with my earliest “best friend” Jeff Davies.

He and I hung around together for many years, starting when I was six years old (1950) and he was five, and continuing until we were in our early twenties.

We never fell apart, we simply drifted apart.

In recent months Jeff and I have indulged in a veritable orgy of our memories of the “good old days”, (just to say that makes me feel very old!).

Jeff came across a photo’ which he had taken in about 1957/58. The scene is Marsh Farm, near Devizes, Wiltshire, UK. There lived his father’s Aunt May (sister to Jeff’s grandmother), with her husband Uncle George. It was one of those old fashioned small, and mostly dairy farms which were the backbone of British agriculture until the more recent days of agribusiness.

Jeff and I went out to Marsh Farm and stayed there on not a few occasions.

We remember collecting eggs which had been laid by the free-range hens, “larking around” in the hay-barn, exploring field and meadows at will, and eating old fashioned farmstead food,

We also remember that both Auntie May and Uncle George were pious and loving members of an “Exclusive Brethren” Assembly. Their piety was narrow, but their generous love was broad.

You’ll see me in this picture (at aged about 13/14) with a lot of hair, and a “kiss curl”. On the back row left is Leslie, the farm hand. In the middle is the fabulous Auntie May. Next to her (with a cigar in his hand) is Jeff’s dad, Albert Davies.

A picture is worth a thousand memories!

My photo's of Australia on Flickr

2012-01-02T18:42:00.000-05:00

I had such a good visit. I am even dreaming some nights that I am back in Australia.

Adelaide was my favourite City.

I enjoyed being in Melbourne as I have friends there, (and the City has great trams!)

And everyone, but everyone has to visit Sydney.

I've applied most of my photo's to my flickr page. They are in three sets, Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney.

Each set can be easily watched as a slide show.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/hugapoveytoday/sets/

Love and blessings,

Michael

My last full day in Australia (15th December 2011)

2011-12-30T19:13:00.001-05:00

Enough already? Here is the last posting of photo’s from my Australian trip earlier this month.

They are of the lovely Blue Mountains area near Sydney. I took one of those dreadful day-trips to this area on my last full day (20 minutes here, 10 minutes there etc - just enough time to take photo’s, but not enough time to savour the scenery). But it was better than nothing.

In some ways my mind is still in Australia (I know this cos I dreamed about it last night). It was a wonderful trip for which I will have grateful memories for a long time.

Blue Mountain view from Cable Car

View from Incline Railway 1

Incline Railway View 2

Hazy Blue Mountains.. The blueish colour is emitted from the many eucalyptus tress.

"Three Sisters" (1)

"Three Sisters" (2)

View from the Incline Railway

In the Rain Forest

Blue Mountains general view 1

Blue Mountains general view 2

Blue Mountains general view 3

Australian countryside (or bush)

2011-12-29T18:44:00.000-05:00

Much of the good stuff in my visit to Australia was when I got out into the “bush” (or “countryside”) – I am still not certain if the words are synonymous.

I know that the “bush” and the “outback” are not the same.

Australia is indeed a very flat Continent. You will see this in the photo’s I took from a plane, en route from Adelaide to Melbourne.

There are also quite delightful “countryside” areas near Adelaide (the Adelaide Hills); and near Melbourne in the Ballaratt/Creswick/Doylesford areas. These places are neither Cities, nor Outback.

Here are my pics. I’ll end the Australia series tomorrow with some photo’s from the gorgeous Blue Mountains near Sydney.

Vineyard in the Adelaide Hills

"Flatland" - from the plane between Adelaide and Melbourne (1)

"Flatland" - from the plane between Adelaide and Melbourne (2)

The Bush near Melbourne (1)

The Bush near Melbourne (2)

Mineral Spring in Ballaratt area (1)

Mineral Spring in Ballaratt area (2)

Mineral Spring in Ballaratt area (3)

Looking out towards Hanging Rock

Rose bushes at Hanging Rock Winery (Hanging Rock in the background)

From the train between Melbourne and Sydney (1)

From the train between Melbourne and Sydney (2)

Sydney scenes

2011-12-28T19:57:00.000-05:00

Here are some pictures from Sydney. I am sure that many of them show familiar places, but it’s different when you are “there”. (Incidentally, I think that the Opera House “shows” better in photo’s than up close. It seems to need a coat or two of paint). Tomorrow, some pictures of lovely Australian countryside.

Oldest House in Sydney

"The Rocks" area one of my favourite parts of Sydney

The Rocks (2)

"Relief" of immigrants at the Rocks area

Opera House from the Harbour Bridge

Walking over the Harbour Bridge

Strange to my eyes - the Chinese Nationalist Party of Australasia? Maybe an older political party from the time when there was Legislative discrimination against Chinese-Australians.

Harbour Bridge close up. Not a view we often see

Hotel in Sydney. "You can take the boy out of Bristol, but you cannot take Bristol out of Australia!"

Everyone, but everyone photographs the bridge!

Opera House close up

Sydney Skyline from the Harbour

Sydney Skyline from the Harbour (2)

The beginning of my walk over the Harbour Bridge

Posh Houses Harbourside

The much vaunted Manly Beach (not a patch upon Sarasota's Siesta Key beaches!)

Sydney's handsome Central Station. "Meet you under the clock at Central

Station?"

Not quite Australia

2011-12-27T19:33:00.000-05:00

I hoved over to Largo, FL today (a 75 minute drive) to hook up with Steven S. and his family.

I met Steven when he was an undergraduate at Harvard College, at which time he attended S. James’s Church in Porter Square, Cambridge where I was the Rector.

Both Steven and I moved on. He wound up for a while in Sydney, AU, and my plan had been to visit him there. But he returned to his present home in Los Angeles before my trip, so we did not connect in Australia.

Steven hails from Titusville, FL (on the Atlantic Coast). He’s been at home with his parents and one of his brothers for the Christmas holiday.

The four of them came over to Largo today to look at the 40’ yacht which is being built for them at

See http://www.ipy.com/ for examples of Island Yachts.

It’s a gorgeous boat. Soon it will be taken by road from Largo to Fort Pierce FL where it will be launched. Then Steven’s parents will sail her down to the American Virgin Islands.

So I met Steven’s Mom and Dad, and his brother Andrew, and saw the yacht. Then we all drove to a pretty good Greek Restaurant for lunch. We sat at separate tables so that I could get caught up with Steven (who treated me to a fine Greek Spinach Pie).

(I encountered the capabilities of an I-phone for the first time. Whilst we are at the Yacht builder’s yard we agreed to go to a nearby Greek Restaurant which Steven’s parents had patronised before.Trouble was – they could not remember its name.

So Andrew “asked” his I-phone‘ for information about nearby Greek restaurants. Sure enough the I-phone “woman” (whose “name” I forget) came up with the information we needed.)

It was a nice reunion with Steven, and I was so happy to meet his folks.

Whilst en-route I passed by a Thrift Store at Gandy Boulevard in Pinellas Park, FL.

I am not sure if the humour in the sign is deliberate or accidental!

Steven and jmp

Thrift Store

Back in Australia Street scenes in Adelaide and Melbourne

2011-12-26T18:43:00.000-05:00

Hindley St Adelaide. My hotel was here. It's a very lively street at night, but it felt safe

Pleasant Victorian era arcade in Adelaide

St Peters's (Anglican Cathedral) Adelaide

Cathedral from outside

Government House Adelaide

Schoolboy cricketers, Glen Elg (near Adelaide)

St. Paul's (Anglican) Cathedral, Melbourne

St Paul's Cathedral from Melbourne Visitor's Centre

Very handsome Flinders St Railway Station, Melbourne

Modern architecture Melbourbe

Victorian Row Cottages Melbourne

Victorian Row Houses, Melbourne

Queen Victoria Statue Ballaratt (a Gold Rush Town)

Ballaratt

Melbourne Skyline from River Yarra

Sermon for Christmas Day 2011

2011-12-25T19:02:00.000-05:00

The Revd. J. Michael Povey at St. Boniface, Siesta Key, FL

It is one of the best known and well loved of all Christmas songs. It has been sung by people such as Enrico Caruso, Mario Lanza (very badly), Celine Dion and Nat King Cole.

It is supposed to have been the very first Christmas song ever broadcasted over radio. This was by a Canadian named Reginald Fessenden, who, in 1906 broadcasted it from the coast of Massachusetts to ships at sea.

It is rarely sing in the Episcopal Church, perhaps because the tune is somewhat too flamboyant for our supposedly refined tastes, or perhaps because it does not lend itself well to congregational singing.

It comes over better when rendered by soloist, chorus and orchestra. That’s not surprising since the composer of the tune, one M. Adolphe Adam is better known as a composer of operas, most notably the masterpiece “Giselle”.

Have you yet guessed the name of this song? It is “O Holy Night”, or more properly known as “Cantique de Noel”.

O holy night! The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees! O hears the angels' voices!

O night divine, O night when Christ was born;

O night divine, O night, O night Divine.

In 1847 a commissioner of wines, and an occasional poet from a little town near Avignon, France was asked by his parish priest to write a new poem for Christmas.

The man did so en route to Paris on a business trip. His name was Placide Cappeau. His Parisian friends were also friend of the composer M. Adam, hence the collaboration between the author and the composer.

The song made its debut on Christmas Eve 1847 in Cappeau’s home town of Roquemaure. It became an instant success and was widely popular.

The Church in France tried to suppress it. One Bishop attacked it for its “lack of musical taste and total absence of the spirit of religion”. That was, in my opinion, a rather glib judgement.

In fact the Church opposed the “Cantique de Noel” on darker grounds.

One reason was the belief that Cappeau was a social radical. We sing a paraphrase of the text, as a result of which, some of his radicalism gets muted. A direct translation of part of the second stanza reads thus

O mighty ones of today, proud of your greatness,

It is to your pride that God preaches.

That’s radical gospel! Little wonder then that Bishops, amongst others did not care for the song.

The other reason for the attempted suppression of the song was based in a false rumour that Alphonse Adam was Jewish. That was not true, but the Church’s anti-semitism could not countenance the idea that a song about the birth of a Jewish child to a Jewish mother should have a Jewish composer.

By 1855 the song had been translated or paraphrased into English. The version we know is by a Massachusetts Unitarian Minister, John Sullivan Dwight. He was an abolitionist, and the song became popular in the anti-slavery movement, particularly because of these lines.

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,

And in his name all oppression shall cease

One hundred and fifty six years on.

There are still many slaves throughout the world, including sex slaves in our own country.

There is still much oppression throughout the world, including the oppression of the poor in these United States.

Placide Cappeau’s song, set brilliantly to Aldolphe Adam’s music reminds us that the celebrations of the birth of Jesus Christ should be more than occasion for merry-making – good and necessary as that it.

The circumstances of Jesus’ birth, and the teachings of his life call us again to join in God’s work as announced by the Jewish prophets, and made clear in “this word made flesh”.

This great work of God was clearly understood by Placide Cappeau. It is this: that God is always on the side of the poor and the oppressed.

That is one of the many meanings of Christmas. Perhaps it is the most vital.

Oh dear

2011-12-23T19:09:00.000-05:00

For reasons which I do not understand my computer is refusing to download photo's to this blog.

So, until I have found the source of this hitch there will be no more photo's here from my Australian odyssey.

I'll try to resume "normal blogging" next week, with more photo's from Australia.

Merry Christmas everyone.

Out and about in Melbourne and Sydney

2011-12-22T21:26:00.001-05:00

The Queen Victoria Market (dating from 1878) in Melbourne.

Antique Cars in Parkville area of Melbourne. There for the filming of an Australian Broadcasting Corporation T.V. "period" mystery series.

Chevrolet (note right hand drive)

Vauxhall

Hispano Suiza

Vauxhall Badge

Antique working tram in Melbourne. (I rode on it) This type of tram was made between 1923 and 1956

In Sydney near my hotel "How far are we from home?"

Batttle of El Alamein Memorial Fountain, Sydney

Wildlife

2011-12-21T20:42:00.000-05:00

Of course one visits Australia to see the animals. I never did see a Ducked-Billed Platypus, and I was far from the Crocodile regions.

But I immensely enjoyed a visit to the 35 hectare Cleland Wildlife Reserve, near Adelaide. I “happened” upon it when I was driving in the Adelaide Hills. Most of the animals roam free here, and the scent from Eucalyptus trees is ever in the air.

The first twelve pictures here are from Cleland.

I can't remember what these are!

Adelaide from Cleland

Less enjoyable was the Featherdale Wildlife Park near Sydney. It is on a mere five acres and is commercially owned. I was there as part of a day tour I took to the lovely Blue Mountains. I did not care for this park, it was more like a zoo. But I did get to see some Ibises, which are much larger than their American cousins, and have black, not red beaks. I also saw the unusual Albino Kangaroo, and some Wombats which were (unusually) out from their burrows during day time. What “did it in” for me was the sight of a sad Tasmanian Devil who did nothing more than run round and round his small pen. At that point I left the place.

I do not like to see wild animals in cages.

Wombat

Tasmanian Devil

Canines in Australia

2011-12-20T20:37:00.003-05:00

Even *whilst I was enjoying my holiday in Australia I was missing my fabulous dog Penne. It turns out that she settled down well with her sitter, so I am not at all certain that she missed me.

(‘Though she did put on an “Oscar-worthy” performance when we hooked up again last Friday at Tampa’s International Airport, and she has scarcely let me out of her sight since then).

Of course the good news is that Penne was (quote) “an angel” in my absence.

I met some dogs that are house pets in Australia.

When I was in Melbourne I was more than happy to meet Andrew and Felicity’s 16 year old Golden Retriever named Goldie. Goldie is a total love, and like Penne, she was very happy when I rubbed her ears or scratched her haunches.

Calvin also lives with Andrew and Felicity. He is a 10lb bundle of energy – part Maltese, part Shiatsu, and part something else.

Calvin barked at me for about 30 seconds when I arrived at his home. Then he ignored me.

Next day he licked my hand – all uninvited.

I took him for a walk, and thence became his hero. When I got anywhere near the front door, Calvin would “dance” on his hind legs in the hope that we were about to walk.

In the event he and I took more than eight walks over five days - ‘twas good for each of us.

Next I hoved down to Sydney from Melbourne.

There, on a trip to Manly Beach, I met “Hoover” - a muscular, strong, and totally gentle Rhodesian ridgeback. Hoover’s owner is older Australian (read “old codger”) who span many a yarn even as Hoover and I “made out".

At the wonderful “Cleland Wildlife Reserve” near Adelaide I saw a couple of dingoes in a semi-humane pit.

I also saw a caged dingo in a rather less than wonderful Wildlife Park, (more like a puny zoo), at Featherdale near Sydney.

More tomorrow, or the next day.

* I was “tickled pink” to see that “whilst” is still in use in Australia, as in: “Do not speak to the Driver whilst the tram is running”

Goldie

Calvin likes me

With Goldie and Calvin

"Hoover", Rhodesian Ridge back (at Manly Beach)

Caged Dingo at Featherstone Wildlife Park

Dingo in "pit" at Cleland Wildlife Preserve (1)

Dingo in "pit" at Cleland Wildlife Preserve (2)

Friends old and new in Australia

2011-12-19T19:51:00.003-05:00

Much of the joy of my trip to Australia involved meeting friends old and new.

I stayed with Andrew McGowan and his wife Felicity. Andrew used to teach at the Divinity School in Cambridge, and was a Priest Associate at St. James’s when I was Rector there. He is now the Warden of Trinity College, University of Melbourne. Felicity is a Professor of Medieval Art in Melbourne.

Andrew’s daughter Maddie lives with him. She is a splendid, bright and engaging young woman. Maddie is also somewhat of a nocturnal person, so I didn’t get to photograph her.

Nicole Elischer, who is Maddie’s mother, also lives in Melbourne. She did me proud by taking a day off work and driving me in to the bush near Melbourne. It is lovely countryside (pictures at a later date). As part of this jaunt Nicole took me to the Hanging Rock Winery, owned by her friends Anne and John Ellis. Anne is a fourth generation vintner, and very proud of her English ancestry. (And yes, think “Picnic at Hanging Rock” – ‘tis that place)

Nicole and her partner Christopher also hosted barbecue for me and their local friends. The food was terrific (no shrimp, but delicious and sweet lamb chops!), and the company was interesting (in a good way). The conversation was so lively, so much so that I failed to get around to taking photo’s – but one of the guests took the two of Nicole and me.

I spent half a day at the Cleland Wildlife Reserve near Adelaide. (Pictures of this later). There I fell in with a man from Papua-New Guinea who was with his friend and mentor, an Australian Lutheran Pastor. The Papua-New Guinean was in Adelaide for the graduation of his daughter at the University there. His photo’ is here cos he’s the first and only person that I’ve ever met from P-Ng, and because he was a splendid and nice man.

I was also an intrepid explorer at Cleland.

In Melbourne on Sunday December 11^th I met and had coffee with Christian Cox. She is the daughter of a splendid St. Boniface parishioner, Susan Rife. Christina is in Melbourne for the duration. She and I had a “blind date” (so to speak). We hit it off immediately and had lots to chat about since she grew up and was educated in Sarasota (yeah for Booker High School!).

My favourite part of Sydney was an older area called “The Rocks” down by the Harbour (actually much of Sydney is “down by the Harbour"). I stopped there one day for a delicious and simple lunch.

Andrew and Felicity

Felicity

With Nicole 1

With Nicole 2

With Vintner Anne Ellis, Hanging Rock in background

Proud father from Papua-New Guinea

Intrepid explorer at Cleland Wildlife Park

Sunday morning coffee with Christina Cox

Tourist at The Rocks in Sydney

No drama in Australia

2011-12-18T18:13:00.001-05:00

I found most of the Australians that I met to be cheerful folks, with a ready smile. That was nice.

But despite all the Anglo/American stereotypes about greetings, only once did I get a "G'day".

And just once I overheard someone say "Good on you".

I encountered a nice bit of the Australian language in Melbourne. I was in the University area and couldn’t figure out the location of the main entrance to Trinity College where I was to meet Andrew

McGowan.

I was on a very narrow little street with the lovely name of “Tin Alley”, where I paused to ask directions of three students. The directions were readily given. After my profuse thanks one of the students said "no drama".

I like “no drama” as an alternative to “no sweat”, or “no problem”.

As well as the “Dog Wash” sign, there were others that amused me.

Here they are (and at the end a sign which made me sad).

At a Railway Station

In a Sydney Market - (a store for gays?)

A Fish and Chip Shop

Global warming? or watch out for careless drivers?

Another Fish and Chip cafe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the sign which made me sad. I was in a Hotel on Victoria St, and it is the view from my Hotel Room, which overlooked Darlinghurst St. On that street, within a quarter of a mile I counted at least 10 strip clubs and/or massage parlours. I was especially sad for the exploited women who who work in these places, some of whom I saw "on the street" - looking more or less wasted. I was sad for the woman, and mad at the men who pimp or use them. And of course, this is not a uniquely Australian phenomenon - it's a world-wide abomination.

Back home

2011-12-17T21:17:00.003-05:00

It's good to be back at home with my super pets after a wonderful two weeks in Australia.

I was blessed with good flights, excellent sights, and time with super friends. 'Twas lovely to be in Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney - and in the lovely countryside near each of those three cities.

I took 216 photo's, but you won't want to see them all. But on the next few days I'll post some of them, arranged by themes.

For starters, here's a picture of a sign which made me laugh. More as the days go by.

Antipodes anyone?

2011-12-02T19:32:00.000-05:00

3^rd December 2011

TPA/DFW/SYD (arrive there 5^th December)

5^th December 2011

SYD/ADL

7^th December 2011

ADL/MEL

12^th December 2011

MEL/SYD (by train)

16^th December 2011

SYD/DFW/TPA

Music and memory

2011-12-01T19:10:00.000-05:00

As you have previously read, my home is very quiet. The T.V. is never on. I can live very comfortably without background noise.

However, when I go out of the house, I turn on the radio and tune in to our local classical music station WSMR. This is for the benefit of my wonderful dog Penne. She seems to be a bit more relaxed if the radio is on when I am absent.

It’s also for my benefit. For, when I return home, I sometimes leave the radio on.

Thus it was that yesterday I heard one of the two “Romances for Violin and Orchestra” by Beethoven.

As I listened my mind was filled with memories.

For when my Dad lay a dying in 1974 (before he went to Ham Green Hospital near Bristol for his final hours on this earth) I sat with him in our “middle room” and we listened to the two Beethoven Romances on an “E.P” (extended play) records (remember those E.P’s?).

‘Twas a bittersweet time.

I cannot be certain that Dad heard and enjoyed the music.

But Dad was there. I was there. And Beethoven was there.

In that trinity of me, dad, and Beethoven was also the trinity of God.

Here is one of the Beethoven Romances.

http://youtu.be/zE1QBmlU8UE

Homeless people and the love of God

2011-11-30T18:47:00.000-05:00

Last night I had one of those miserable asleep/not asleep night:- semi insomnia, with a bit of frustration. By 4:00 a.m. I’d had enough and got up to face the day with a couple of cups of coffee, and Penne’s enthusiastic welcome.

I was weary enough to think for a moment that I would not go down to Resurrection House for the weekly prayer service. But then again, many of the friends who would pray with me there had doubtless slept out last night – and it’s beginning to get chilly in this part of S.W.Florida.

So I arrived at Res. House, shot the breeze with some of my homeless friends; kidded around with others. I announced the prayer service – and gosh and be-golly the little chapel was filled – standing room only.

The sense of the presence of the Holy One was palpable. There was a gentle stillness in that room.

And old gospel song came to mind, and I read the words of one of the verses to my brothers and sisters in the Chapel.

The “story’ is that these words were written on the wall in what we used to call an “insane asylum”. I believe them to be powerful and eloquent.

“Could we with ink the ocean fill.

And were the skies of parchment made.

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man (sic) a scribe by trade.

To write the love of God abroad

Would drain the ocean dry.

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky.”

Those words express the deepest conviction of those of us who are christian believers.

Out and about in the neighbourhood today

2011-11-29T20:12:00.001-05:00

Penne's shadow

Ibises and (?) Little Blue Heron 1

Ibises and (?) Little Blue Heron (2)

Ibises usually feed in flocks. I often notice that what I think is a little blue heron joining them. Does anyone if there is a reason for the apparently symbiotic relationship?

(Sorry the birds are at a distance. The ibises are very skittish and it's next to impossible to get near to them)

Old but good

2011-11-28T18:55:00.000-05:00

Sermon for 27th November 2011.

2011-11-27T19:00:00.000-05:00

The Revd. J. Michael Povey at St. Boniface, Siesta Key FL

Isaiah 64:1-9, Mark 13:24-37

The bible is not the “Old Farmer’s Almanac”, a manual of common sense good advice, and of dubious predictions about the weather. Nor is the bible a prototype for the Mayan calendar.

Jesus is not Nostradamus, an obtuse and confusing so-called prophet whose visions of the future are capable of a million and one interpretations. Nor is Jesus Ann Landers, giving helpful advice to helpless people.

The bible is a library. It consists of 66 books which are conveniently bound into one volume. My friend the Revd. Andrew McGowan writes this “like any library, the Bible was collected, not composed”.

He goes on to say: “But what difference does it make that the Bible is a library? When you read one book, it may be fair to ask “is this true?” or “is this right?” But such questions, .......are the wrong ones to ask of libraries. It is both impossible and insufficient for a library to be “true” – a bus ticket or a tax invoice can be true, but the truths of a library are diverse. One should ask whether a library is outstanding, expansive, comprehensive, useful – it must, simply, be “good”. A library does not exist to contain propositions, but to change lives".

The questions we must ask of the library we call the bible are the same. “Are the books outstanding, expansive, comprehensive and useful?” Some are. Some are not. When we read passages such as today’s gospel reading our question should not be “is this true”. Rather, we might ask – “is it useful?”

As for Jesus, he and his teachings cannot be easily catalogued and comprehended. Just as soon as we believe we know everything about the meaning of Jesus, we discover that we understand nothing.

Today’s Gospel snippet starts at an awkward place in the narrative. “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light,
²⁵and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken”.

It’s a clumsy and rather silly way to begin a reading for it gives us no clue as to what has gone before in the text. What were “those days, after the suffering”?

“Those days and that suffering” probably refer to what we call the first Jewish war. The Jews of Galilee and Judaea chafed under the despotic rule of Rome. Isolated guerrilla actions against the Roman led to a full scale insurrection, and to the most brutal and repressive response by Rome, staring in Galilee in AD 66, moving through the horrendous siege and fall of Jerusalem in AD 70, and the final defeat of the Jewish patriots who were holed up in the fortress at Masada in AD 73. They were days of horrendous repression and untold suffering and death. Think – Syria in our present time.

The sun and the moon being darkened may be metaphorical references to the darkness people experience in time of great distress, times when their very lives are threatened and turned upside down - as was certainly the case for the Jews and the members of the Jesus movement in first century Palestine.

“When lives are turned upside down”. We all know about that. A sudden and deathly illness, and unexpected and unwanted divorce, being laid off with no chance of getting a new job, having a dear family member exposed as a fraud - these and many other human experiences lead to our lives being turned upside down.

Even good events can be entirely disruptive of our “normal” lives. Good events such as the birth of a much wanted child - it’s all very wonderful, but goodness me, it does disturb our normalicies. And just when we think we’ve mastered this new way of life, along comes another child. We think that we’ve become experts - but oh no – the second child is never a carbon copy of the first!

So, in life changing or disrupting circumstances, is today’s text useful?

My answer is “no” and “yes”.

No, if we are looking for an easy answer, a quick fix, the placebo effect.

Yes, if we are open to disciplined lives. “Keep watch” says Jesus. This speaks to me of the discipline of prayer. I do not mean the kind of “polite, afternoon tea, with pinky-extended” kind of prayer. I am talking about the prayer which argues with God, which protests to God, which challenges God. If we take prayer seriously as a daily discipline we shall find that our minds and wills become aligned with God’s good purposes. We shall begin to discover that God is faithful even when all the evidence points in the opposite direction.

My words shall not pass away”“. This speaks to me of the discipline of attention to scripture. If we immerse ourselves in the entire library of scripture rather than in these rather ridiculous snippets which we get each Sunday, we shall discover those uncomfortable and unpleasant truths which challenge our hubris and self sufficiency, and move us to becoming people of justice, mercy and reconciliation.

In a few minutes that gorgeous little disrupter of Kevin, Evanne and Connor Scully’s lives will enter into the fellowship of Christ’s Body in his baptism. His name is Quinn William Scully. Because his mom and dad love him so much, and because they want the very best for him, they have made the wise decision that he should be baptised.

Quinn will enter into this community of defiance which we call the Church. He will begin a life of disciplined prayer. As he grows into his life of faith he will hear the words of both encouragement and challenge which come to us in Holy Scripture.

He may well learn that becoming a christian raises more questions about the nature of human life than it provides answers.

He will grow to know that Christianity is not a quick fix for life’s ills, problems and disruptions. Rather he, with us, will be equipped to face all that life offers, good, bad or indifferent, sustained and challenged by the presence of the mysterious but ever faithful God.

Oh shit and hail Mary.

2011-11-26T19:39:00.000-05:00

From 2 Kings 18:27 (in the Authorised [or King James] version of the bible).

But Rabshakeh said unto them, Hath my master sent me to thy master, and to thee, to speak these words? hath he not sent me to the men which sit on the wall, that they may eat their own dung, and drink their own piss with you?

I quote this verse to assert that the bible is unafraid of “earthy language”. This gives me leave to utter the occasional “oh shit”.

I have previously introduced you to a great woman who lives in a neighbouring community. Her name is Betty M. We meet as I walk my dog. Betty is an octogenarian ex-Marine. She is feisty and funny. She is a widow.

One of her sons Steve M. moved in with her about two years ago.

Steve is a wee bit younger than I. He was a Methodist minister, but following a sad divorce he skated into a new career as a care-giver in a local Nursing Home. He and I have enjoyed some lovely chats. He is a gentle soul. We both agree that his mother is “the tops”.

Steve was diagnosed with liver cancer about 8 weeks ago. He is now moving towards death.

He and his Mom Betty put out the word that visitors were not welcome. I understand this fully.

Should I be stricken with a terminal illness I too would not want “the world and his wife” to visit me.

Nonetheless I have prayed for Steve and Betty each day.

Betty ‘phoned me a couple of hours ago. She told me that she had held off from talking to me lest she should cry.

But of course she cried, and I assured her that I had heard and shared in many tears.

I said that my primal reaction to Steve’s illness was to utter the words “Oh shit”. She knew and recognised that language.

Then I offered to pray on the ‘phone. She agreed.

Knowing her to be of Irish Catholic heritage I launched into a prayer from that tradition.

I prayed:

“Hail Mary, full of grace

The Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women,

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, mother of God

Pray for us sinners

Now, and at the hour of our death AMEN

Betty joined in with this prayer, even as she wept.

“Oh shit” and “Hail Mary” were the best prayers I could offer.

Bon mots

2011-11-25T19:40:00.005-05:00

“Grief is like one of those roller towels in public lavatories. Shared with too many people, it gets soiled and worn out.”

(Joyce Carol Oates, “Missing Mum” p 345 ecco books 2005)

Sermon for Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-24T18:25:00.000-05:00

The Revd J. Michael Povey at St. Boniface Church, Siesta Key, FL

I preached this sermon at St. Boniface on Thanksgiving two years ago. I forgot what I said, and so did you. So here it is again.

How would you define an Englishman? Try this:

“An Englishman is a self made man, who worships his creator.”

I can tell you that one liner in good heart, for I am English born and raised. There is more than enough truth in the joke.

We are surrounded by “self-made” citizens who proudly affirm “I got all I have by good old fashioned hard work and no one is going to take it away from me”. There is a common belief that good old fashioned hard work is a sign of virtue, and that virtue is rewarded by wealth. Somewhere, deep in the secret part of my heart I believe that too.

That belief flies in the face of the facts.

First: There are millions of good hard working Americans, many of whom have two or three jobs, who are barely scraping by. And there are other millions who would welcome good old fashioned hard work – if such work were available.

Those of us who work with homeless people hear time and time again “I want to work, but there’s no jobs out there”.

That belief flies in the face of the facts.

Second: A wee bit of reflection would lead us all to acknowledge that there was much “good luck” involved in our success and prosperity.

There was the teacher who inspired and encouraged us. There was the prospective employer who took a chance on us. There was the good friend who was gutsy enough to challenge us into healthier ways of thinking and living. There was the spouse who both tended the home fires and worked outside of the home so that we could go through college. The list goes on.

So much good luck. The truth is that we did not do it all by ourselves.

The obverse of the coin of good luck is that many of the poorest and or homeless Americans are poor and homeless because of a string of bad luck.

We are the lucky ones. We, and I mean those of us who are in this Church today, are in the top 5% of the world’s most fortunate people. None of us are here by merit and virtue alone.

Lest we should forget that as we often do, or deny it because it is an inconvenient truth, this holiday called Thanksgiving plops itself on our path as a temporary road block designed to make us reflect about our lives.

Such reflection might lead us to three sentiments.

First: to a kind of giddy and joyous humility.

Second: to a renewal of our glad commitment to deep stewardship.

Third: to the exhilarating thought and emotion of utter gratitude.

The Boston Globe columnist James Carroll suggests these sentiments can also lead religious believers into worship. His column two years ago inspired some of what I have said this morning, so I will leave the last words with him. Carroll wrote:

“What do we talk about…………when we talk about (giving) thanks?

1. Awareness begins when a person grasps the single-most basic fact of existence, which is that existence is given.

2. The most important aspects of each human’s condition, from physical makeup to intelligence to family connections to cultural legacy, are accidents of birth.

3. The givens of life do not begin with us. How we make use of what we are given is something else, but givenness is the starting point.

4. Self-consciousness is the recognition that we ourselves are not the source of our most precious selfhood.

5. A religious view makes the instinctive leap from the given to the giver, calls it “God,’’ and offers gratitude as the essential form of worship”

(The numbers 1-5 above are mine, inserted for clarity. They were not part of James Carroll’s Boston Globe article)

Lincoln's Thanksgiving Day Proclamation

2011-11-23T18:51:00.000-05:00

By the President of the United States of America.

A Proclamation.

The year that is drawing towards its close, has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature, that they cannot fail to penetrate and soften even the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever watchful providence of Almighty God. In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign States to invite and to provoke their aggression, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere except in the theatre of military conflict; while that theatre has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union. Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defence, have not arrested the plough, the shuttle or the ship; the axe has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege and the battle-field; and the country, rejoicing in the consiousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom. No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who, while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy. It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens. And I recommend to them that while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty Hand to heal the wounds of the nation and to restore it as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquillity and Union.

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the Seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington, this Third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the Unites States the Eighty-eighth.

By the President: Abraham Lincoln

A lovely encounter

2011-11-22T19:36:00.000-05:00

My favourite local supermarket is not the dominant and ubiquitous “Publix” (high prices and crummy produce). It is “SweetBay” a part of the Hannaford Group.

There I was this afternoon to get some red potatoes and brussels sprouts to cook and eat for dinner with some homemade meat loaf.

My cashier/clerk was a young woman. At her till was a large sign which read “my belt is broken” – meaning that the moving belt which transports purchases towards the cash register would not work.

Being a very “male” male I immediately checked the belt on my trousers, and assured her that my own belt was O.K.

She grinned and said “it’s only the men who make jokes about this, the women never do”.

Ooops! I apologised, and then asked her age.

She told me that she is 18 years old. She is an adult.

I responded by saying: “Let me tell you something which you will soon discover. Men’s brains are not in their heads, they are below their belts”.

“I already know that” she countered “that’s why I prefer women”.

“Do you have a girl friend?” I asked.

“Oh yes” she said “we’ve just started dating”.

I congratulated her with all my heart. I thanked her for telling me this. I wished her very bit of success with her new relationship.

As I drove home I rejoiced that this 18 years old woman felt so secure in her sexuality. I was honoured that she had felt free to tell me a bit about her life and love.

It is a wonderful new world eh?

Such a great day!

2011-11-21T19:12:00.000-05:00

I've had such an exciting day!

Here is one of my cats, Ada, as she slept.

Here is the other cat Adelaide (also sleeping)

Wow! They are both so full of life!

The thrill of watching Penne eat her mid-day meal

A tiny Anole Lizard (yes they are "Anoles"[not Geckos]) crept into the house. Cat Adelaide sprang into action and played with this little Anole. (She later decapitated it, but I spare you a photo' of a headless lizard)

St. Boniface Church, Sarasota FL - good stuff this morning!

2011-11-20T19:24:00.000-05:00

1. The first scripture reading at the St. Boniface 10:00 a.m. Eucharist this morning was from the Old Testament book of Ezekiel (Ch 34 v 11-16 and 20-24).

I made certain to seek out the Lector (reader) right after the service to thank her. She had read the passage so beautifully, with perfect intonation, tone and pace. Her reading made the scripture “come alive”.

2. The hymn before the reading of the Gospel was “King of Glory, King of peace”. This was written not as a hymn but as a poem, by the fabulous Welsh poet George Herbert (1593-1633).

George Herbert was from a prosperous family in what used to be the County of Montgomeryshire in Wales (now part of the Welsh region called Powys).

He had been a Member of Parliament from the County Town, but in about 1630 he was ordained as a priest in the Church of England, and became the Rector of Bemerton (near Salisbury, Wiltshire, England). There he blossomed as a poet.

But it was a brief flowering. For George Herbert was suffering from tuberculosis. He died at age 40.

His poem/hymn is one of my favourites.

In the U.K. we sang it to a very fine Welsh Tune by one J.D.Jones (1827-1870) – a tune called “Gwalchmai”.

In the American Episcopal Church since 1982 we have sung George Herbert’s poem/hymn to a “new” tune. The tune is named “General Seminary” and was written by one David Charles Walker (b 1938).

It is a fabulous and lyrical unison tune. The music and the words seem to be made for each other.

I know the words by heart. So I disdained the use of a hymn book this morning. I closed my eyes, and I sang with verve, with conviction, and with joy. Ere long my eyes filled with tears.

This was because I had entered into that place in which words and music combine to bring about a sense of bliss, of joy, and yes – even an entry into the adoration of G-d.

Povey Prattle

The art of the insult (via my friend Tess P.)

Cats and Atheists

Maybe a smile or a grin. Even perhaps a giggle

Resisting fundamentalism - a dreadful poster

Funny Times

My new vocation as a sign writer

For dog lovers

Smokey Joe's Cafe - out of my comfort zone at two levels.

Quotations attributed to Sir Winston Churchill

“There are a terrible lot of lies going about the world, and the worst of it is that half of them are true.”

“Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen.”

“You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

“There are a terrible lot of lies going about the world, and the worst of it is that half of them are true.”

“I am easily satisfied with the very best.”

Fellowship of Believers in Sarasota. The lamest church sign ever

Many church signs are lame.

Some are lamer than others.

Today I saw the lamest ever.

It is at the “Fellowship of Believers” on nearby 10th St. here in SRQ.

(The “background” is the recent cold snap here in SRQ).

The sign reads:

“Too cold to change this sign.

The message is inside”

OMG!

Memories of the Devizes area

Jewish and Arabic?

Jack Marshall is (was) a poet of great distinction. He was born in Brooklyn in 1936.

His father Albert was an Arabic speaking Jewish man, who was born in Baghdad (Iraq), moved to Manchester (U.K.) and later migrated to the United States. His family anglicised their last name from its original Arabic to “Marshall”

Jack’s mother Grace (in Arabic it is Garaz) was also a migrant. She was born to a prominent Jewish family in Aleppo (Syria), a family which ended up on these American shores. She also spoke only Arabic, and refused to learn English when she arrived in the U.S.A.

Arabic was the in home-language of this Jewish couple. Yes indeed - a Jewish couple whose most comfortable language was Arabic. In fact they always referred to G-d as “Allah”.

Albert and Grace Marshall had an arranged marriage. Sadly it was also a very unhappy union. In the tight knit Syrian Jewish community in which they lived, divorce was out of the question. Loveless marriages were not uncommon in that community

I have read all about this in Jack Marshall’s memoir “From Baghdad to Brooklyn- Growing up in a Jewish-Arabic family in Midcentury America” (Coffee House Press 2005).

It’s a haunting tale about the Jewish-Arabic heritage as it was lived out in mid 20th century America.

Grace was an un-happy and pessimistic woman. Conscious of the former status of her family in Syria, and now reduced to a hard-scrabble life in Brooklyn, she was unable to love her husband and three children.

Jack (her son, and the author) once asked her why she always expected the worst. She replied “I don’t expect the worst, I expect the expected”. (“These were her terms of engagement with a not-to-friendly future” comments her son Jack).

(From your blogger: At this point, whilst writing last night I fell sound asleep at the computer. I woke up two hours later!)

Blog resumed on Friday morning.

Albert Marshall never made much money. He held various jobs, and owned a couple of businesses. But he never became wealthy. He withdrew into semi-silence, bitterly saddened by the misery of the marriage.

Jack remembered that his father often said: “Mind you, make money in due time, but don’t do time for making money”

Much of Jack’s time and that of his brother was spent at the shul. Prayers were, or course in Hebrew, but the sermons were in Arabic.

Jack remembers their first English speaking (and preaching) Rabbi. He was well versed in the Babylonian Talmud, and in the writings of the great Rabbis.

Once, when preaching against arrogance he said: “Adam was created last of all creatures on the eve of the Shabbat. Why? So that if a person becomes too proud, he may be reminded, ‘the mosquito was created before you’”

And in another sermon: “Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a good person is like expecting a bull not to charge you because you are a vegetarian”.

He also recounts his encounters with the big wide world of art, music, science and philosophy - encounters which would lead him away from Judaism and into atheism.

Closing words on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr Day

Sermon for Sunday 15th January 2012.

Hophni and Phineas with Steak and Kidney Pie.

Amish in Florida (more specifically in Sarasota)

Bruff and flustrated

Dumb animals?

And I say to myself........

Sarasota Newspapers

Parlez-Vous Français?

This, that, and none of the other

In simpler times

A picture is worth......

My photo's of Australia on Flickr

My last full day in Australia (15th December 2011)

Australian countryside (or bush)

Sydney scenes

Not quite Australia

Back in Australia Street scenes in Adelaide and Melbourne

Sermon for Christmas Day 2011

Oh dear

Out and about in Melbourne and Sydney

Wildlife

Canines in Australia

Friends old and new in Australia

No drama in Australia

Back home

Antipodes anyone?

Music and memory

Homeless people and the love of God

Out and about in the neighbourhood today

Old but good

Sermon for 27th November 2011.

Oh shit and hail Mary.

Bon mots

Sermon for Thanksgiving 2011

It is at the “Fellowship of Believers” on nearby 10^th St. here in SRQ.

It’s a haunting tale about the Jewish-Arabic heritage as it was lived out in mid 20^th century America.