We will celebrate for any reason or none. Celebration will shade and eventually eclipse whatever is celebrated, such that as time passes, unless we have something like the liturgical  anamnesis so we don't forget why we have bread and wine in church on Sundays, we forget whatever the reason was for the celebration, and the party is the thing. So with Halloween. Our years in Apalachicola, at this time of year one of the larger churches in town loaded up their older children and teens and bused off to a mountain retreat to escape Halloween. To me, an outsider looking in, their fear of our annual nonsense seemed ridiculous and extreme. But outsiders never really understand, and it wasn’t ridiculous at all, that annual fall retreat was for them a wonderful loving time of binding and building. And it was only extreme in their condemning judgment of us in our nonsense. Relative fools, we were only celebrating and had no idea why because a party is a party, while they had explor

Luke 19:1-10 (NRSV) Jesus and Zacchaeus 1  He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2 A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3 He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5 When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”  6 So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7 All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” 8 Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9 Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek o

It’s an interesting age to live in. Or to finish up living in, to face life honestly. We read history and think, “that’s the way it was then, but now finally it’s like this.” But it isn’t, not at all. The first time I remember becoming actively conscious of my own just-passing-throughness was an afternoon the end of July 1984, the week we arrived in Apalachicola. I had just read the list of priests before me at Trinity Episcopal Church, spotted some I had been at Camp Weed with thirty five years earlier, and was wandering around the church property thinking now finally it’s me at last, right where as a child I wanted to be. For some reason, in that wandering, awareness dawned that it wasn’t now finally me at last, that it wasn’t final at all, and not me at last, just my name being added and that a generation hence Tom Weller would be just one more name on a longer list with others after me.  Just so, that was three decades ago and that generation came and is gone and there are tw

Reminded Recently June told me about the tan Pontiac GTO hardtop Bill had back in -- he likely was 18 so it would have been 1966, maybe a '67 model car.  GTO is for Italian Gran Turismo Omologato, technically, a tourer certified specked out for racing. At least some early GTOs had engines larger than GM policy allowed for that smaller size car. John DeLorean, gutsy GM exec of all time, took a Pontiac Tempest, removed the 4-cylinder engine, dropped in a huge Bonneville V8, and call it a GTO. It was flaming hot. Bubba avoids trendy words, otherwise, the word was awesome. Awesome, both GTO and Pontiac. The GTO today is a cult car beyond imagining. It all reminded me of --- well, it reminded me. We never had a GTO but Walt had a 1964 GTO convertible, blue with four-speed stick. Excellent car, and seems to me it was light blue not the medium blue. Hearing that Bill had his GTO up to 90 on Hwy 77 reminded me o

The answer: 0 0 0 17 10 27 7 7 3 0 7 24 And the correct question is -- "Why should heart patients not watch college football?" If BCS continues on track, we may get to see a dream game, at least for this part of the country, Tide v. Seminoles. Where will I be? Ha! Come to Sunday School. TW+ P.S.  Who is going trick or treating as ASLAN?

Our adult Sunday school class is taking a break from the Bible, the first and foremost leg of our so-called “three legged stool” of Anglican theology, Scripture, Reason and Tradition. Moving into the creeds is a look at the "third leg," Tradition. Though it’s not really a “break” from the Bible, because the “Apostles Creed” in particular is based on Scripture. Also called the Baptismal Creed or Baptismal Covenant, this is my favorite of our three creeds.  As we recessed class last Sunday I was thinking we had talked enough about the Apostles Creed, but we didn’t actually, we overlooked half of it, so we’ll come back to it tomorrow morning. The Church seems to have used this creed, its predecessor the Old Roman Symbol, from earliest days, even from the second century, in inducting new members through the rite of baptism. It’s my favorite creed because as we say it liturgically we not only say what we believe, we covenant as to how we will live our lives specifically  bec

Lived in Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, Michigan, Ohio and Northern Virginia, and dislike snow and ice, but a cool fall morning is welcome after that overly hot, long summer. Fall is welcome, that is, except for the symbol of a child grown and gone, Kristen’s absent car. Ray’s car is there this morning, some mornings so, some not. For me it’s different with the boys, but whether the girls are twenties, forties or fifties it’s worry, worry, worry. It wasn’t really forgotten at all. Not crisp, but cool for sitting on an outside porch, so in the downstairs closet where heavier longsleeve “top shirts” wait their season, I reached for one of the khaki “canvas” shirts from L.L.Bean. Spotting the soft dark blue corduroy, I thought, “Oh, I’d forgotten you!” and took it instead. Well worn, once elegant, now suitable for around the house, it began years ago under the Christmas tree tagged Papa. Malinda, Ray & Kristen , and has long since been promoted to velveteen rabbit. Work for tod

Yesterday’s mail brought a letter from Kristen about “Building Tomorrow,” a project raising money to build schools for children in Uganda. Her chapter at Emory University is trying to raise $6,000 that will build one academy in a rural community. Enthusiastic about the project, Kristen asked my permission to write several friends and relatives that I felt would help them. Linda and I are going to help her project, and your helping Kristen will not only help the children, but would mean more to me personally than I could ever say. So that Kristen’s chapter at Emory is credited toward their goal, her online connection is the one to use for giving. The connection for her Emory chapter -- which does open, I tried it just now -- is https://pages.buildingtomorrow-mail.org/i-am-pages?supporter=emorybt2013 And the Building Tomorrow website is www.buildingtomorrow.org Tom

Roy & the Emperor’s New Clothes Roy was my assistant at my second Navy assignment in Washington, DC forty years ago. A GS-15, he was a master of bureaucratic gobbledygook. Incomprehensible and meaningless, Roy's writing was as vacant as the emperor’s new clothes. But it read so formidably that nobody but me his new supervisor had the guts to call him on it; incredibly, even the officers before me had been snowed and he had skied his way to senior civil service rank on male bovine droppings. Roy’s prose was so unchallengeable that our admiral depended on him to write all the command’s letters of commendation and recommendations for military medals. Even my own service dress blue uniform may have a medal for which Roy wrote the BS for desk duty performance above and beyond the call. Among other things, that Washington tour taught me to be cynical of authors and whatever they write.      This is an apology that I'm reading an article with the sentence, "... even

One Christmas in the late 1940s or early ‘50s my aunt Evalyn, our father’s sister, we called her EG, gave me a book by Floyd Clymer that has been around the world with me. It’s still here in the house somewhere, I’ll have to find it, a treasury of early automobiles. It instantly became my favorite book and most prized possession that I poured over for endless hours, lying stretched out on the living room floor reading and rereading without end. There was a dust jacket on it that itself wore away to dust decades ago. EG bought it in the wonderful bookshop at “Woodies,” the Woodward & Lothrop department store downtown in Washington, DC where she lived. Single, she was the dream of a favorite aunt. It was in Floyd Clymer’s book I first heard of the Reeves Octoauto, a 1911 car in which the first two wheels steered in the desired direction, the second set in the opposite direction.  An interesting challenge to parallel park, it would not have appealed to me if for no other

Luke 18:9-14 (NRSV) A Parable: The Pharisee and the Publican 9 Jesus also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: 10  “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.” Our gospel for next Sunday: The Pharisee and the Publican . Next Sunday is my turn to preach. Thinking about it is fine, but if I talk too much about it I’ll

Blessedly with a wedding to officiate over the weekend, I was excused from finding an excuse to skip football, so heart attacks were left out of Saturday. Gators: some will be polishing up Will’s resume’ time the season is over. CFB is a lot more fun if you have more than one favorite team, and if you have a couple of teams to "hate."  Sorry, Amy.  Stunner: what happened, Clemson? Best news of the day:  WAAARREAGLE , beat Manziel. Louisville v. UCF Knights Ascendant, I give up, I’m ordering a gold and black vuvuzela.  Bouncing and plummeting when the rankings come out this evening.  http://www.cbssports.com/collegefootball/scoreboard It's only a game. Come to Sunday School. TW+

Don't see it now, but a news article early this morning reported a recent study showing that during sleep, neurons (or something, it was too early, I can’t remember the words) shrink and allow fluid to wash between them, flushing the brain of toxins. The study proved that sleep is a downtime of housecleaning that is vital to the brain’s health. Having experienced hallucinations while driving when too sleepy, I can imagine toxins affecting the brain’s physical integrity and mental product. In that regard, while doing my early reading I kept dozing off, so went to bed in Joe’s room and got a three hour nap. Thus the late post. In our Adult Sunday School class we are talking about the church’s three creeds. Last Sunday we had an overall introduction, then recited the Athanasian Creed, Creed of Saint Athanasius, together as a way of introducing it, with some discussion. Its Latin name Quinque vult after the first line “Whosoever will be saved” is easier to say. We may revisit it