Today is Holy Thursday, the day that Christians around the world commemorate the Last Supper. That's the day that Jesus celebrated the Passover meal with his twelve friends, the Apostles, before being crucified on Good Friday. If you know nothing else about the day, you know what you've learned from Da Vinci's famous painting...Jesus got together with twelve of his closest friends, and requested a table for 26 so that they could all sit on the same side of the table. In some Christian churches (such as Catholic and Episcopalian ones), the focal point of the service is the Eucharist or Holy Communion, which commemorates the Last Supper. And today in Catholic churches all around the world, there are 7 and 8 year olds receiving their First Holy Communion just like I did on a Holy Thursday (mumble mumble) years ago. It's a very important day in the life of a Catholic child. We would prepare for it starting at the beginning of that school year. We learned the church's teaching of transubstantiation--that when the priest said "The body of Christ" and you said "Amen" you were saying that you truly believed that a flat, flavorless wafer had been transformed before your eyes into the *actual* body of Christ. I have mixed feelings about First Holy Communion these days. On the one hand, it's a fond memory--dressing up in the pretty white dress and finally being one of the big kids who could receive Communion. Adding to the feeling of "celebrity" for me that day was the fact that *my dad* was chosen to be one of the twelve apostles and have his feet washed by the priest. (Dad had actually balked at being chosen and didn't want to do it at first. At the age of 8, I couldn't understand why he was less than thrilled with the notion of having his feet washed in front of the whole congregation.) But on the other hand, over the years I really struggled sometimes with what I was supposed to be saying "Amen" to. To be a "good Catholic", it seemed that I was supposed to *make* myself believe something that defied all logic. When I was 14, an alternative medical practitioner had determined that I was allergic to both wheat and milk. Since I was supposed to avoid anything with wheat in it, my parents asked the priest if they could bring a rice cake to be blessed for my Communion. He had agreed--there was no question as far as the priest was concerned of such a thing not being a "valid" Communion--but in my own mind that was the beginning of my first "crisis of faith". By asking to have a rice cake blessed instead of the traditional wheat-based host, was I admitting that I didn't really believe? That was a tough question for me. Fortunately, we eventually concluded that I wasn't really allergic to wheat, at least not in a way that would require a change in my Sunday habits. So I was able to push that particular conundrum to the back of my mind for a while...but the seeds of doubt had been planted. As I have explained elsewhere, several years ago I embarked upon a period of exploration and church-hopping, and finally ended up joining the Episcopal church. When I discovered that there was no official First Communion celebration for Episcopalians, I was a bit wistful that my daughter wouldn't experience that particular rite of passage. (Okay, so I'm shallow. I wanted to see her in the dress. It's a girlie thing.) But at the same time, it was a relief not to have to pretend to believe something I really couldn't make myself believe. Until I discovered The Center for Progressive Christianty and scholars like Marcus Borg, it had seemed like the only options open to me were believing and not believing. Neither of those options felt right to me. I knew that I believed *something*, but every year as the Easter season rolled around, I became aware that there were some things I just couldn't make myself believe. As "God" says in the Jack Chick parody tract, "Why would I need to sacrifice Myself to Myself to allow Me to change a rule...I made Myself?!" On the other hand, my faith has always been a part of who I am. And Easter in particular is a meaningful time for me. When I was growing up, I often spent the latter part of Holy Week with my grandmother--attending services on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, taking the basket of food to church to be blessed on Holy Saturday, and having Easter dinner after church on Sunday with the family. And on the table there was *always* butter in the shape of a lamb. When I moved to Ohio for grad school and couldn't easily make it home for Easter, I really missed the traditional celebration. And after my grandmother died, the need to incorporate some elements of the Easter of my youth became even more powerful. Luckily, we now have stores in the area that sell lamb shaped butter. We usually go to brunch, either at a restaurant or more recently at church, but I always make one of the cream pies I used to make with my grandmother. ...do this in remembrance of me Those words are spoken during the breaking of the bread during the Holy Eucharist. Remembrance. That alone is important. Even on days when I'm not sure *what* I believe, I believe it is important to *remember* in some tangible way--performing some actions of remembrance. I don't know what happens after we die. I truly don't. I could *say* I believed, but it wouldn't be true. And God certainly isn't going to be fooled by my "faking it". When Marcus Borg spoke here in Columbus, he said something about being "agnostic" about the afterlife and what it might entail. Here is what he said in a Beliefnet interview: Do you believe there is an afterlife? You know, I’m very happy to leave that up to God. That’s very politic of you. Well, the answer is that I’m convinced when we die we die into God, but I don’t know what that means in terms of survival of a personal identity or reincarnation. I’m not inclined to believe in reincarnation, but I have no idea what happens after death. So how do you now look at faith? Faith is not primarily about believing a set of claims to be true—that’s what goes with the earlier vision of Christianity. The understanding of faith that goes with the emerging vision is about a relationship of trust in God and faithfulness to God. The ancient meaning of the word “believe” is “to commit oneself, to be loyal to.” The Middle English word is “beleve,” and that means to love or be loved. So faith is about loving God and loving that which God loves--which is the whole of creation. One thing that really struck me about Marcus Borg when I met him was that he had a gentle, peaceful presence. He is (to me, anyway) clearly a man of faith, but is at peace with his "unknowing". I'm getting to the point that I'm at peace with that too--to the extent that I don't worry about what happens after I die. And I liked his words about "dying into God". I don't know what it means, but I'm happy to let God handle the details. I've got enough to worry about trying to live up to what Jesus taught. Love my enemies? Um...okay, I'll try. Could I just love them sort of *sarcastically*? Not good enough? Dang. Jesus set some pretty high standards, and if I really try to live up to those, I've got enough on my plate without worrying about the next life. So I'm content not to think about it too much in terms of what happens after my own death. When it comes to loved ones who have gone before me, though I must admit that I would really *like* to be reassured that they are in some sort of Heaven. But I don't have that particular kind of faith that I can tell you just what kind of mansions they inhabit in the place called Heaven. I really do miss Grandma this time of year. At Easter, more than any other time of year, memories come flooding back to me. And it just feels right to do something in remembrance--I feel more connected to her even though she is not here with me physically. It helps the memories come alive, and makes her feel more present to me. Note to self...I need to get to the store in the next couple days. It's time, once again, to buy pie fixin's and lamb shaped butter.

Someone just posted a link to this as a comment to my diary at The Village Gate. I'm passing it along for anyone who would like to sign up and/or help spread the word.... The Peace Not Poverty Write-In ------------------------ On March 30, one million people will gather here to create a written Declaration for peace and justice and against the Iraq War. This site explains how we'll do it and why it must be done. A MORAL MISSION We will return America to its true moral mission and restore its historic commitment to the common good. We must do more for those among us who suffer from poverty, hunger, inadequate health care, and educational disparity. The progressive movement is now at a turning point. Dozens of progressive religious leaders and organizations are rising as one to speak out against war and greed, and to build what the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. called the Beloved Community. The Beloved Community promotes non-violence, social justice, fair and equal treatment under the law, care for the environment, and freedom. A COMMUNITY OF ALL The Peace Not Poverty Write-In will use a new online writing system called Synanim. This unique technology enables even a million people to synthesize consensus and identify leaders. It will enable you to engage with others and to lift your voices together for peace and justice. On April 4, the resulting Declaration will be read at the Beyond Iraq service in Riverside Church, New York, by the consensus leader. This event will mark the anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech against the Vietnam War in 1967. And it will mark the re-awakening of a nationwide community of conscience with the launch of the Break The Silence Bus Tour. This Tour will mobilize a movement that affirms the real freedoms of the Beloved Community -- not just freedom from control, but freedom to love, freedom to live well, and freedom to embrace life with others, for the common good of all. Join this important effort, right here online. The Peace Not Poverty Write-In is your opportunity to contribute your voice, your heart, and your resources. With your help, these powerful events will be the historic turning point of this new millennium.

Thank you, Dale, for pointing out this piece from Digby. It's on the front page of Kos now as well. Very troubling... By now most people who read liberal blogs are aware that George W. Bush signed a law in Texas that expressly gave hospitals the right to remove life support if the patient could not pay and there was no hope of revival, regardless of the patient's family's wishes. It is called the Texas Futile Care Law. Under this law, a baby was removed from life support against his mother's wishes in Texas just this week. A 68 year old man was given a temporary reprieve by the Texas courts just yesterday. So, Mr. Delay, can you explain that ethical system of yours that leads you to say "Mrs. Schiavo's life is not slipping away - it is being violently wrenched from her body in an act of medical terrorism" but not go to the mat to save a 6 month old boy in your own state whose mother wanted to *choose life*? And I found this to be particularly galling... Republicans defined their extraordinary efforts in the context of the sanctity of life: “A society is judged by the way that it treats its most vulnerable citizens,” said Rep. Mike Pence, R-Ind. You mean vulnerable citizens like Baby Hudson? I just read the story, and it sounds like the baby's really was hopeless (a fatal genetic disorder characterized by a tiny chest and lungs too small to support life.) But still, these are the words of his mother: "I wanted life for my son," Hudson said Tuesday. "The hospital gave up on him too soon." There are a lot of gray areas in these situations. But at least I admit that. It would be nice if people like Tom Delay could also admit to the limits of their knowledge in such complicated, heartbreaking issues--rather than using these issues for political grandstanding.

I just read Pastor Dan's Word for the Week over at Kos and wanted to share a bit of it here. Good reflection for Palm Sunday... For most of the history of the church, believers would attend services throughout the week between Palm Sunday and Easter, where they would hear of Jesus' rejection by the same crowds who had welcomed him, and of his betrayal, trial, and eventual execution. These days, though, many Christians skip Holy Week and go directly to Easter. Which is to say from triumph to triumph. So, many churches have taken to celebrating the day as "Palm Passion" Sunday. The stories of Jesus' suffering, traditionally reserved for Good Friday, are placed next to the remembrance of his "ticker-tape" parade to remind the faithful that the path to the resurrection goes through the cross and the tomb, not happy, cheering crowds. It's a useful reminder for those who seek political change in their country. Many of my progressive friends have expressed frustration lately; they'd like to see things moving more quickly against the Bush administration. They begin to despair that things will ever change in our country. I've taken to reminding them that success and rightness are separate things; we don't do what is right only because we think it can carry the day. Thousands marched against the war in Iraq yesterday, the practical effect of which is almost nothing, especially with an administration as smug and entrenched as this one. So why do it? Because the war is wrong, and somebody needs to say so. We need to say so. Click here for the rest of Pastor Dan's diary.

Quick reminder about today's peace vigils in commemoration of the two-year anniversary of the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. I want to make sure people found out about them so that they could make last-minute plans, if so desired. Visit http://www.sojo.net/ to find a peace vigil near you. Click here to read an essay by David Batstone of Sojourners, reflecting on the events of the past two years and what they say about us as a nation.

Have you noticed that parents are often “guilty until proven innocent”? Liberals and conservatives both make snap judgements—they just make different ones. Conservatives will argue that there is no such thing as ADD—only parents too lazy to discipline their children. These kids don’t need Ritalin, they just need to be smacked more often. Liberals will still blame the parents, but say that it is because parents are too self-involved and don’t give their kids enough attention, they overschedule them, they use television and video games as babysitters. If parents respond, “Hey, that’s not the way it is!” then they must be defensive, making excuses, etc. Some on the right criticized Hillary Clinton for using the African proverb, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Conservative talking heads scoffed, “No, it takes a *family* to raise a child.” Apparently Rick Santorum liked that comeback so much that he has written a book using that statement in its title: It Takes A Family: Conservatism And The Common Good. The problem with this sentiment is this: families do not exist in a vacuum. Public policy can make their job easier or painfully, unneccessarily difficult. The attitudes, words, and actions of neighbors, school personnel, and the larger community can help or hurt. The specific example that prompted me to write this diary is the tenor of the (judgemental) comments many have made about Noah McCullough, a 9-year-old presidential trivia buff and his parents. Noah will travel to a handful of states ahead of visits by the president and will go on radio programs, answer trivia questions and say a few words about Social Security. Though he is obviously not an expert (and not really a lobbyist, either), officials say the effort is a lighthearted way to underline Mr. Bush's message. In diaries that discuss this boy, I have been saddened to see the way posters have repeatedly jumped to some conclusions about about this boy’s home life without even reading all the way through one *article* about him. Here is a typical statement: The kid is obviously very bright, but also raised in a GOP-Christian-Bush-worshipping family. Yet, the New York Times article excerpted above says "He's very patriotic and very Republican," said Noah's mother, Donna McCullough, a former teacher and self-described Democrat. "It's the way he was born." "He's very patriotic and very Republican," said Noah's mother, Donna McCullough, a former teacher and self-described Democrat. "It's the way he was born." When a Kos poster retorted that “no one is born that way”, that’s when a light bulb went off for me. I showed the story to my husband, and he saw it too. No one is born that way? Oh, yes they are! That could *so* easily be our son. I think most parents will discover, sometimes to their dismay, that they do not have as much power to shape the personalities of their children as they thought they would. As Kahlil Gibran wrote: They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you. And that is true of the “neurotypical” kids. Parents who have a child who is in some way “wired” differently are continually surprised by the things their child will say and do. Demetrius and I are the parents of an 11-year-old boy with Asperger’s Syndrome. He is a walking, talking paradox. When he was very young we used to refer to him as “a puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, wrapped in a diaper.” Raising him has already been an amazing journey—a true education like nothing else I have ever experienced. I always thought that I might write about the experience one day. What I have learned from him, and how the experience of raising a child who possesses unique gifts and challenges has changed the way I think about everything, from parenting to basic human nature to the nature of God. But somehow I always thought I would write about this at some point in the distant future—you know, looking back after weathering all the years of turbulence. Yet, after reading about Noah and seeing some of the reactions people have posted, this seems like a good time to share some of our insights. There are two reasons. On a more abstract level, the rush to judgement has showed that while critical thinking skills are so important to understanding the world today, neither liberals nor conservatives seem to use them on a regular basis. We are thinking critically when we ·weigh the influences of motives and bias ·consider a variety of possible viewpoints or perspectives, ·remain open to alternative interpretations ·recognize our own assumptions, prejudices, biases, or point of view Certainly there are numerous examples or wingnuts, repugs (insert your favorite epithet here) failing to use critical thinking skills. But the rush to judgement regarding Noah and his parents (not just here but in a number of other blogs and forums) has shown that Republicans have far from cornered the market in this area. But on a less abstract and more “touchy-feely” level, this is a plea for compassion and understanding. I ask this in the name of parents everywhere, whether or not their children have special needs or challenges. Most of us are doing the best we can with the resources we have. If you were to ask us what we needed to help us do our jobs better, you would probably hear a wide range of responses: good, affordable child-care, better communication with schools, parenting classes and support groups, more flexible work schedules and family-friendly work places, etc. But I doubt if you would find too many parents who would say, “More criticism, please!” In a separate diary, I will share some of the similarities we have seen between our son and Noah. The purpose is not, as I have stated before, to “diagnose” Noah, but to encourage you all to remain “open to alternative interpretations”. Not all children who spout right wing talking points have been indoctrinated by their parents. Sometimes children can display these attitudes in spite of their parents efforts to encourage open-mindedness. Noah's political leanings are hardly the product of his parents' influence. While Chris McCullough calls himself a fence-sitter, Noah's mother, Donna, is a Democrat. His father constantly emphasizes that "not all Republicans are good, and not all Democrats are bad," much to Noah's annoyance. There is a piece called “Welcome to Holland” that many parents of children with disabilities have probably heard. In a nutshell, the experience of giving birth to a child with a disability is compared to spending months looking forward to a trip to Italy. You research, plan, prepare, and eagerly anticipate what it will be like when you finally arrive in Italy. When you finally land, the flight attendant says, “Welcome to Holland.” It’s not what you planned for, but once you adjust to your disappointment, there are things to enjoy about Holland. It’s not a bad, dirty place—it’s just not the place you thought you were going. I think that analogy works better for some diagnoses than for others. If you give birth to a baby with Downs Syndrome, it is apparent right away, and you can begin the process of learning your way around “Holland”. But I figured out that I needed to make some changes to the “Holland” analogy to get it to work for Asperger’s Syndrome. You plan for your trip to Italy, you take your flight and land in Holland, but you still think you’re in Italy. You wonder why the map you brought with you isn’t helping you find your way around. You wonder why you’re not seeing any of the famous landmarks described in the guidebook. It’s very confusing. Once you do figure it out, it can be such a relief. Finally you know what the problem is, and you know which maps and guidebooks you need to buy. But there are still a lot of folks who are in Holland but don’t know it. Some of them may be starting to wonder why they are seeing so many windmills and tulips in Italy…