Christianity

Martha’s Blues

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“Are you a Martha, or a Mary?”

How many times have I heard this question asked? I’ve no doubt said it a few times myself. I recently read an insightful commentary (on Instagram, go figure) that touched on the heart of the matter in Luke 10, when Jesus visits the home of his friends Martha, Mary and Lazarus. Martha is busy serving, and Mary is sitting down, listening to Jesus.

I will readily admit to being Martha. After all, somebody has gotta get this s**t done.

The point made was that it wasn’t a situation of Mary = good, Martha = bad. Martha was in her expected role, and provided a great service with her hospitality. She fed Jesus and his followers and made them comfortable and welcome. She provided a safe and welcoming place for the ministry; a refuge from the world where disciples could sit and listen attentively.

The problem was that Martha was anxious, distracted, and focused on something other than Jesus’ message. She was serving, but not with an open heart and open ears. Even something as inspiring and awe filled as Jesus sitting in her home and teaching became something stressful.

Martha did what had to be done, and what WAS the right thing to do. But Jesus did point out, very gently, that spiritual discernment is a “better portion.” There’s a saying “let go and let God,” which reminds us that we DON’T have to try so hard. Maybe we can keep doing what we need to do, but focus our minds more on Spirit than on matter.

Because s**t still gotta get done.

Christ at the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus Jacopo Bassano c.1577, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston TX

I joke that my title at work is She Who Does That Which No One Else Will Touch. Computer headaches, dealing with AT&T (and other assorted technology), tracking down clients who are slow in paying, insurance, HR, figuring out assorted regulatory compliance, you name it.

It’s a far cry from the career path I’d started on a few decades ago: Licensed Clinical Social Worker. I keep my license current and do “a few things,” but life interfered and I found myself in the family business because hey – family needed me.

I’ll be honest – there are days when I throw up my hands and say “WHAT am I doing?” There are days when I just want to run away from the world of management and regulations and go back to being a Social Worker. Please don’t make me deal with nonfunctional technology; can I just go back to dealing with serious mental disorders and a few garden variety neuroses instead?

I often wonder if I’m making a difference or helping anyone in this role, and I start to feel like Martha. Frustrated, overworked, unseen, not enough help and not really able to help. Why did I sign on for this?

Well…because of love. Like Martha, I sometimes need a nudge in the “discernment” department. I do this because I love my family. I love what my parents built, and what we continue. I care about our employees, and I care that we have built a good, supportive place to work. I love those days when I look around and think “wow, we really have some good people here.” We are blessed.

I wasn’t familiar with the website that posted that commentary on Instagram; http://www.qava.tv . A quick online check tells me they are a Christian streaming service, offering a wide variety of programs. Thanks, Qava folks, for this thought provoking commentary. It hit me when I needed a reminder that we all need a balance of Martha’s action and Mary’s attentiveness.

Some years ago I wrote a song called Martha’s Blues, focusing on…well, you can probably figure out what it’s about. Pity poor Martha, she’s got the blues; housework fights forever and you’re always gonna lose. It’s a part of the Women at the Well program, and the last time I performed it was at an event honoring the memory of my late music partner Joshua “Bubba” Murrell. It’s always been one of my favorites from that program, and you can listen to it here. Since Covid, we hadn’t been able to do many Women at the Well programs, and I miss that. I wonder sometimes what it would be like to present the program on my own? I wonder what Martha and Mary would advise?

Holy Week

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Holy Week is nearly done, but I can’t let it go by without sharing this thought: Humanity really doesn’t change.

It doesn’t. In spite of technological, scientific, medical and other advances, people remain…people. Holy Week slaps us in the face with that fact.

Yesterday’s Darling is today’s Outcast. Jesus rode into Jerusalem in triumph, to adoring crowds. He was (and remains) the Ultimate Influencer. One week after receiving a hero’s welcome in Jerusalem, he was crucified. Really, have times changed? He was the ultimate badass that the crowd loved, turning over tables and talking trash to The Powers That Be. The crowds couldn’t get enough of him. A week later, he’d been deplatformed in the worst possible way.

Today, we can consider any number of popular figures, politicians, leaders, entertainers, commentators, etc. etc. etc. and (whether you love or hate ’em) you’ll see how swiftly the tide can turn. This should clue us that human opinions have absolutely nothing to do with facts. (Pilate said to him, ‘what is truth?’ – John 18:38 or paraphrased in Jesus Christ Superstar by Pilate: “What is truth? Is mine the same as yours?” a profound question, and one that has stayed with me for decades.) The details change, but human nature hasn’t.

And really…what is truth? Why are we so quick to proclaim someone a Savior or Messiah – and then turn on them when WE don’t think they deliver like we think they should? It’s a paradox: We think we need someone/something greater than ourselves to drag our sorry rears out of the muck…but then, we reject that someone because they’re not what we expect or think we want. We get nasty and really, really ugly.

Fortunately, there is a Love that will save us from ourselves, in spite of ourselves. Being human is a privilege, a gift, even though it is a tangled, messy, crazy, emotional journey. Never forget that Love came down at Christmas, or the incredible example of love on Good Friday. Jesus joins us on that human journey, and reminds us that in spite of our human craziness, we are worthy of love. And we are loved.

The Frustrated States of America

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Nope, not a political post. If you were hoping for one – sorry. I’m going to stick with a subject that pretty much EVERYONE can agree on: Technology that is supposed to make our lives easier is actually making it more frustrating.

Pick some tech. Any tech. Whether it’s your phone, your computer, your tablet, your streaming services, your Sl’amazon account, your 5,328 unique passwords that you have to remember, your multi-factor authentication, your facebook page, your company website, your home security system, Annoying Telephone & Telegraph’s abandonment of support for copper cable, your touchscreen on just about anything, your car, your boat’s GPS, your company’s sales tax payments (online only), your regulatory compliance in __________, Alexa, Siri, and even your blasted washing machine…sooner or later, the tech part will give you trouble.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my Instagram as much as the next addict. (Actually, I don’t HAVE an Instagram account. My dog does. She keeps me updated on such things; I just hope she never forgets her password because I have NO IDEA what it is. Probably something like kibble or Iluvsquirrels.) But good GRIEF, as things get more convoluted it gets harder and harder to find Customer Service – especially someone you can actually talk to on the phone. (Unidentifiable accent) Hello thankyouforcalling Annoying Telephone and Telecom mynameis Elvis, howmayIhelllllpyou? (Disclaimer: I’m not putting down anyone who’s trying to earn a living like this. They surely speak English better than I could speak whatever their native language is. On the other hand, I KNOW BETTER than to try and get a job in customer support where I’d have to speak French. Or anything else.)

On rare occasion, I hear a voice that sounds…well, kinda like me. Or a LOT like me (that’s when I call the ‘lectric company, they’re in central Louisiana and while they don’t sound like me, they sound like my cousins in that part of the state and that’s close enough!) But – and that’s part of the frustration – the days when you can get ANY help by phone (regardless of where in the world it’s been outsourced to) are vanishing. At best, you get an automated menu with limited options – and of course, your problem is never one of the options offered (at which point the computer voice says “good-bye!” and disconnects.) And increasingly, Customer Service (or as I prefer to call it, Customer NONservice) is being outsourced to ChatBot.

I’m sorry, but Artificial Intelligence is not that intelligent. I know I’m not alone in saying that my frustration level rises the more I hear “tell me in a few words what you need help with so I can get you to a person who can help!” By the time I’ve spent 5 minutes going through menus for AI to figure out the correct department, I’m pretty frustrated. I get even more frustrated when I get a voice mail saying that the lone human who can help me is “currently away from my desk or helping another customer.”

No. No, you’re not. I’ll bet your on break scrolling through Instagram. Maybe even looking at pictures of my dog, the shameless hussy.

Don’t even get me started on the fact that I now have to set up an account to even look at what a company offers or ask a sales-related question! (yeah, I’m lookin’ at you, Lenovo, and you too, Wix) Even purchasing a movie ticket, subway fare, etc. requires something a little more than cash.

We used to complain about “press 1 for English.” Now it’s “Click here for chat assistance” or – in the case of a certain web services (I’m lookin’ at you, GoD*ddy) provider – “text us for help!” Chat and text “customer service” result in one poor overloaded customer service rep (probably on the other side of the world, being paid beans for each “individual” s/he helps) trying to serve multiple people at once. I’ve wasted many HOURS waiting for answers – at least five hours wasted on a single task, just in this week.

I’m not even counting the looooong minutes spent listening (when I actually talk to someone) reading the script. You know it, it’s the one that goes like this: “I am so sorry, Mrs. (they butcher my last name) that you are having trouble with this and i completely understand your frustration, I promise that I will get this taken care of for you, will you allow me to place you on a brief 3 to 5 minute hold so that I may investigate this issue further with my resources?”

Honestly, I have a problem with dealing with companies that force their employees to lie. 3 – 5 minute hold? HA!! And promise it will be taken care of? Another lie! Grumble about minimum wage all you like, there are companies out there that are compromising the immortal souls of their employees by forcing them to lie like this.

Tech frustration. It’s everywhere. More and more companies jump onto AI as a way to “cut costs” and don’t realize that so many of us are getting overloaded and just plain FED UP with it. What should be saving us time is costing us more time – not to mention frustration. To quote one of the great philosophers of our time, ain’t nobody got TIME fo’ dat!

Merry Christmas!

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Merry Christmas? But…it’s January 4!

Yep! And we’re still in the Christmas season. Epiphany isn’t until Monday, and my decorations are still up. It won’t take long to take them down, as I’ve simplified things over the years, but they probably won’t go back into the boxes until next weekend.

It was a nice Christmas, all things considered. The last few years were pretty lousy – three years ago, pop died. Two years ago, I broke my ankle and spent Christmas recovering from surgery (I won’t say it was “shattered” as my very talented orthopedic surgeon managed to find all the pieces of bone and reassemble them with some heavy-duty hardware), and last year my best friend and music partner died suddenly right before Christmas. This year, we lost mom – which should have made it another crappy Christmas.

But oddly – it wasn’t. Maybe it was because we all breathed a collective sigh of relief that she and pop were together again. Maybe it was because she wasn’t suffering any more. Maybe it was because we all realized that, as hard as it was, it could have been a lot worse.

And maybe – just maybe – this Christmas was a gift from the Holy Spirit.

Sure, we got a little weepy. We missed some people terribly. Mom had left some instructions for some personal gifts, which were given out. I’d like to think that mom was able to see everyone’s reactions. I do know I felt her presence – and pop’s, and Bubba’s – very strongly. Does it take the place of their being there “in the flesh?” Of course not. But because of Christmas – and Easter – we know we will be with them again. We know they are wrapped in love and peace.

And of course, there were some laughs: My brother continued the tradition of the rubber chickens. Once again, his ceiling (and it’s a tall one) is covered with little rubber chickens. It started a few years ago when he ordered a pack of small rubber chickens (you shoot them like rubber bands) from “slamazon” (as my friend Cathy J calls that big online retailer), intending for us to shoot them at one another like the overgrown kids we all are.

I’m pretty sure it was Bubba who first aimed a chicken at the ceiling. Or maybe Harris. Hey! They stick! And so a new holiday tradition was born.

Can you hear it? “Oh, we love to decorate the tree as a family on Christmas eve after we go to church, and then after Christmas dinner we go caroling! What do you do, Brenda?” “Oh, we crank up the air conditioning, build a fire in the fireplace, drink champagne and shoot rubber chickens at each other and at the ceiling.” Yep, that’s my family.

And among all of this craziness is family, love, and the peace of the Holy Spirit. I realize a lot of people struggle with Christmas. I have for years – so did mom; she said that she was reminded of all those she loved who had left this life. I do think she had a better Christmas this year, as did pop, Bubba, and all of our loved ones on the other side. #84 in the Hymnal 1982 sums it up beautifully:

May the peace of the Holy Spirit and the gift of the Incarnation be with you throughout the year. And don’t be afraid to say it: Merry Christmas!

A Beautiful Life

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Today was mom’s memorial service. Her – and pop’s – cremains will be interred at a later date. For now, we just wanted to get through this. It has been a long journey; yet I know that we have been blessed beyond measure. Today my brother, our families and I were surrounded and uplifted by love, by visits from people expected and unexpected, and ended the long day with family and friends (and yes, alcohol). A beautiful, loving life was celebrated. And dang, we miss her.

The obituary:

https://www.pellerinfuneralhome.com/obituaries/dorothy-dot-dekeyzer

Now, I’ve pretty much managed to keep it together, but looking at the slides (that I’ve already seen because I uploaded them) makes me cry. And I’m kind of afraid to start crying because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. My brother delivered a beautiful, heartfelt tribute. I don’t have his, but will share mine here:

This is a tribute to the strongest, most amazing woman I’ve ever known. And how blessed I am to have had her for my mother. Greg and I hit the jackpot there. For our entire lives, mom was our biggest supporter, cheerleader, tear-wiper and butt-kicker. I would say “and now she’s gone” but she’s not. She lives forever in our hearts, and beyond because – our souls are eternal.

I’m not sure how these things work, but I do believe that before I was born, an angel said OK Brenda, you’re gonna have some challenges, and you’re gonna have some blessings. But the biggest blessing you’re gonna have is love. I have a feeling that Greg had a similar experience.

Mom was born in 1931 – yesterday would have been her 93rd birthday. Some things y’all already know about our mother – she never stayed still for long. I think she was about 13 or so when she learned to drive, but before that she was on her bicycle.

In an era when many women were stay at home moms, she earned her bachelor’s degree in business education from Northwestern State University – where she met this handsome fellow from central Louisiana named Robert DeKeyzer – AKA Sam. They had a strong, loving marriage that lasted for 71 years until pop died 3 years ago.


Together, they build a home and a family. Mom taught for a while, but then Greg came along and she stayed home to be a mom. A few years later I showed up. It was us 4 as a team. In the late 1960s, mom was approached by a member of the school board of St. Joseph school, where Greg and I were students. They’d lost their business ed teacher – would she consider taking the job?

She did, and wound up teaching commerce subjects at St. Joe for years. While some teachers would send their misbehaving students to the principal – or wose, Sister Mary Catherine – for discipline, mom never did. No one dared misbehave in her class. Those who tried soon realized… it wasn’t a good idea. They quickly learned what Greg and I already knew….the softer her voice, the bigger trouble you were in. And of course, there was THE LOOK.

A few years ago, there was a thread on facebook – I believe Robert Larroque started it on the Jeanerette – yeah you right! Page, and kicked off the discussion:


Ro – Mrs. Dorothy “Dot” DeKeyzer, our beloved Business teacher (Typing, Bookkeeping, Shorthand)….no-nonsense, efficient, and always kind. She inspired, and continues to inspire, so many of us. Ro’s sister Lisette said “she wanted you to succeed, and accommodated you….Virginia Edley said that mom was a big influence in her decision to go to engineering school. Louise Brown Derise said “she was the reason I studied accounting. She was an incredible teacher and person!” Troy Rosamond – “I learned more about test-prep from spending quality time with that lady than from anyone else until… CPA prep.”

…and the conversation continued. I shared it with mom, who was shocked. They’re saying that about ME? They still remember? (Well, you know what happens in Jeanerette, stays on facebook.)

Well, SHE remembered. you know those name cards you send out with your graduation invitations? Last week I opened a drawer in the house – and there was a box filled with those cards. Every one that her students sent her – she kept them. She loved her students.

When she and pop started hoh-PAK (at the kitchen table), it was a family affair, all right. Little did we realize at the time how it would grow – and mom and pop were a team throughout it all. She shaped so much of the business. Later, she and pop actually started travelling – road trips to Perdido with their dear friends Jack and Carla Wormser. Carla, you are truly mom’s sister of the heart – I guess that makes you our aunt! Later, she was beyond THRILLED to become a grandmother – Nana to Ian, Roane, Julia and Marie Claire.

I learned SO much from mom, more than I could ever tell you. I learned how to be a wife, a parent, and she sure tried to teach me how to be a lady (some of it stuck, mom, I promise). I learned how to crochet, to sing, and to whistle. Even though she didn’t like to cook, I learned how to do the basics.

Mom also taught us how to drive – and to parallel park. I channel mom every time I tuck my car into a parking space with mere inches to spare. I learned from the best. Greg is sharing a driving story, I’ll share this one: One day, Janice and Marie Claire were heading home from town. There on the Weeks Island Road, a car sped past them. Janice commented “wow, someone’s in a hurry!” MC replied “ mom – THAT’S NANA!” And I will say that in her entire driving career she never ever was involved in a wreck – and she taught us how to drive defensively.

Growing up, she stayed at home until I was about 7, and she and my grandmother didn’t like staying still, so we went to Lafayette a lot. Of course, mom drove. I learned the art of shopping on a budget. Mom had a reputation at St. Joe – “She never wears the same thing twice!” I’ve had more than a few of her former students tell me they were always waiting to see what Mrs. DeKeyzer was going to be wearing that day. Truth is – she knew how to shop the sales and to put things together in various ways with different accessories – and she always looked like a million bucks. It wasn’t vanity; it was self respect – something else she taught us.

In her last months of life, she extracted a promise from Vanessa, her personal care aide. “Vanessa,” she said “please promise me that when I die you will come and fix my hair and put on my lipstick before the funeral home takes me away!” and she made ME promise to call Vanessa and WAIT to call the funeral home (she didn’t quite trust ME to do her hair). “I will NOT go to the funeral home with my hair like Woody Woodpecker!” and we didn’t blame her one bit. When the time came, Vanessa was there, and mom went out in style. Really, it could be no other way.

We were all floored when she was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis. It was terrifying, and a hard, arduous journey. Mom has always been the epitome of grace and strength – and she faced it just like that. She got her affairs in order, making sure we knew what we needed to know and do. She was particularly concerned about the care of her beloved cat, Buddy, who had been a wonderful companion to her. Ever the perfectly organized soul, she fretted for months about “when” she might “go.” She didn’t want to go around Roane’s or Marie Claire’s birthday; what a lousy memory! She didn’t want to mess up David’s and my vacation. And Julia is moving to Tennessee for PA school at the end of September! And then, more birthdays….Somehow, she made a deal with God and slipped away not long the last person she was waiting on arrived to say goodbye. She’d seen everyone else who was closest, and after Harris had arrived, she smiled and slipped away.

But her work really will never be done. She gave us the foundation, a foundation of love upon which we can only build more love. She taught us HOW to love, and that was the best thing she ever taught. Sometimes her love was toughlove – she always expected the best from you, because she saw what you are capable of. But she loved us with an amazing, incredible love.

We miss her terribly, but wouldn’t wish another moment of her suffering to have her back. Julia put it perfectly: Nana and Pop are now dancing in heaven while Bubba is playing their favorite song.

It Is Well With My Soul

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Today is Mary’s 85th birthday. I’ve had the joy of knowing her – and singing alongside her – for about three decades now. Her birthday falls ON “Birthday Sunday,” the first Sunday of the month where we pray (and sing!) for those in the congregation celebrating birthdays in the coming month.

Leon chose an anthem arrangement of It Is Well With My Soul for us to sing, as it’s a favorite of Mary’s (the rest of the choir loves it too). She sang a beautiful solo on the first verse, and it was all I could do to come in singing when the rest of us joined in because it was so moving.

It is a hymn that bears special meaning, and when you know the story behind it, you can really understand why this song touches the spirit so deeply.

Horatio Spafford and his wife had already lost much – the death of a son, followed closely by the great Chicago fire and destruction of his business – all in the same year, 1871. Two years later, Spafford was planning a trip to Europe for himself and his family. A last minute problem with his business delayed him, but he sent his wife and children on ahead with plans to take another ship and meet with them in a few days.

The ship carrying his wife and four daughters was struck by another ship and went down. His wife survived, but his daughters did not. Spafford immediately went to join his wife, and it is said that he wrote It Is Well in the area where the ship carrying his family went down.

The melody, written by Phillip Bliss, is called Ville du Havre – after the name of the ship that went down.

After the tragedy, the Spaffords had three more children, with one dying of scarlet fever. They eventually moved to the Holy Land and led lives devoted to service.

Their story is incredible, as is their faith. It’s hard to imagine having such soul-ripping events – and still be able to say it is well with my soul. I don’t doubt that the Spaffords had moments of deep anguish and despair. But the words strike right at the core of what is most essential, and beautifully so:

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, (it is well),
With my soul, (with my soul)
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

(And the final verse:)

O Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
the trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;
even so, it is well with my soul.

Source: https://hymnary.org/text/when_peace_like_a_river_attendeth_my_way

You may also find the hymn listed as When Peace Like a River.

Peace can be like a river – sometimes quiet, sometimes turbulent and nonexistent. But whatever my lot, there is refuge in God’s promise. This line that doesn’t appear in every hymnal:

No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

Sometimes that’s all it is, and all it takes; just hearing that whisper. We can cling to it as we would a raft in a turbulent river and hold on, knowing that somewhere at the end of that rope is peace, even if we can’t quite grab it yet. This is the promise of God, the promise of Christ, the promise of Love.

Happy birthday, Mary. And thank you for giving us a gift with your voice; a beautiful and heartfelt reminder that while hearts may be breaking and we may feel we’ve given up, it is still well with my soul.

Good Friday

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For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his works should be exposed. But whoever does what is true comes to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his works have been carried out in God. John 3:16-21

The good news of Christianity is that we are forgiven through the sacrifice of Christ; Jesus suffered and died for our sins and rose from the dead.

This is wonderful news!

But…I’ve always had a teeny, tiny problem with this. If God loves us so much, why did God demand a sacrifice to forgive us? That just seems a bit…conditional.

Forgive me if my sick sense of humor wanders into the realm of the near-ridiculous as I can’t help but imagine a hypothetical (and somewhat Monty Python-esque) conversation….

God the Father: Sheesh. LOOK at them, will you? I’ve given them commandments, guidance, a burning bush, manna from heaven, and STILL they screw up. I’m done with humans; they’re all fit for nothing but the burning pit of hell!

God the Son: Oh, come on, they’re not THAT bad. Give them a chance. Maybe eventually they will figure it out.

God the Father: Hm. I don’t know…but maybe I could be persuaded IF they made a big enough sacrifice. But it would have to be big – I’m really not happy about them.

God the Son: I don’t think they are capable of appeasing you. Tell you what – how about I do it for them?

God the Father: Hmmm. Well, let’s see. How about you become one of them? Like, become human.

God the Son: I can do that.

God the Father: And…not in a life where you’d be a crown prince or anything. I know! How about you become…hmmm, how about a carpenter?

God the Son: OK, I’ve always wanted to make things out of wood.

God the Father: You can teach them what they really need to know: How to treat and love one another. I gave them commandments, but they still mess it up. Oh, and throw in some miracles and healings so that they pay attention.

God the Son: I can definitely do that. Hey, how about turning water into wine? That sounds like a good start.

God the Father: But, in order for me to forgive them and bring them home to me, you need to die a horrible, dreadful, painful, excruciating death.

God the Son: Um. Ahhhh, you sure about that? Well. OK, if you insist.

[end of conversation]

Image: Detail of Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross, 1951

WAIT! Don’t call me a heretic just yet, but I can’t help but wonder. Permit me to offer an alternative (hypothetical, of course) conversation:

God the Father: I’m upset. I know I gave them free will, but this is getting ridiculous. Look at how my people are behaving!

God the Son: They’re NOT behaving.

God the Father: Exactly my point! I’ve given them commandments, prophets, examples – I mean, look at King David, for Your sake, he sent his best friend off to be killed in battle and still I blessed him. Why don’t they believe I love them? Why don’t they ACT like it?

God the Son: I think it’s called “human nature.”

God the Father: Yes, but I made them in our image and likeness! I set up this glorious world and they keep messing with each other. I just don’t know what to do to show them how much I love them, and how I would LIKE for them to treat each other. They love living in the darkness! They need to see the light!

God the Son: Light… LIGHT! I have an idea! I could go down there…

God the Father: Hmmm, that’s a thought! You could show them how to live, how to love one another, how to forgive…

God the Son: Yes, and add some miracles so they’d pay attention. I am the light of the world, after all.

God the Father: Absolutely. But – they are fickle. How many prophets have they seen doing miracles and issuing warnings? And still they’ve ignored them!

God the Son: Well, I have an idea that goes beyond anything any of the Prophets did. Let them kill me.

God the Father: WHAT?

God the Son: Seriously. They need a really, REALLY BIG example of just how much they are loved. They really won’t believe it any other way. If they think that the ultimate blood sacrifice – me – has been given for the forgiveness of their sins, they’ve got to listen, don’t you think? That would be a real, heavenly, cosmic slap-upside-the-head!

God the Father: Hm. Wow. You know, that’s really not necessary for us to forgive them, but –

God the Son: I know. We’re going to love them no matter what, and do everything possible to get them all home to heaven one day, some way. But this will be a shortcut. If they follow me, they are following God. If they look at how I live and see me as an example, follow me and accept my sacrifice, they will be bringing home the Kingdom of Heaven on earth!

God the Father: You know, this could be a way to bring all of my creation into my fold – not just the children of Israel.

God the Son: Can you think of a better way to show them that God suffers with them? Like, right along WITH them, when they suffer?

God the Father: No, I can’t. But…are you sure you want to do this? You know I don’t require anything to love and forgive humanity; but I want them to realize how much they are loved, and for them to show and live that love. Doing it like this will wake them up…but…it’s gonna be bloody. And really, really painful. Those Romans are a real piece of work. Sometimes I wonder if the whole free will idea was a mistake…

God the Son: Well, you said yourself how off track they are. They have ignored the commandments and have been hurting each other. And the Romans are bad enough – and what about those Pharisees and Saducees? They’ve missed the point! Anyway, do you think the people would pay attention to anything less than a really, really BIG sacrifice?

God the Father: Good point. But you know…seeing the Son of God die a horrible death can’t be the end of the story.

God the Son: We’re thinking the same thing —

God the Father: Well, of course – we ARE God, after all! After you’re “dead” and “buried,” you’ll come back to life! Resurrection!

God the Son: Yes! Their bodies die, but they’re not sure about what happens after that. I can show them that death and sin are conquered. Rising from the dead? They’ve GOT to pay attention to THAT! That will show them that through me, they have life eternal.

God the Father: Perfect. If this doesn’t wake them up, I don’t know what will.

God the Son: One last thing: In the Torah, there are a LOT of commandments. Maybe we could just…simplify it. You know, love God and love your neighbor. They do have short attention spans.

God the Father: You’re right. I always have had fun with Words…. Let’s get the Holy Spirit in on this plan and get started.

~~~~~~~~~

So, there you have it. This might raise an uncomfortable question: Did Jesus have to die?

We’re so used to saying yes, He had to die for our sins!

But wait – did Jesus have to die because God the Father demanded a sacrifice? Was it atonement?

Or did he have to die because we humans just would not believe or accept God’s love for us any other way?

You decide.

*disclaimer: The warped theology presented here is purely the musing of this author and not to be interpreted as any official stance produced from her Jesuit education (it’s not completely their fault I’m a bit heretical), Catholic school studies or 30 + years in the Episcopal church.

Amazing Musical Grace

/ a samaritan woman / 2 Comments

Music has saved me on many occasions throughout my life. If you read my post from December 2023, you’ll know that I lost my best friend and music partner without any warning. No, I haven’t felt like writing any blog posts. You wouldn’t want to read them anyway; what can I say? Everything sucks. Having Bubba for a friend and creating music with him enriched my life in ways I’ll never be able to describe. Losing him so suddenly – it’s indescribable.

I could barely make it through the Christmas Eve service at church. In fact, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I got through the Eucharist, but couldn’t face another minute, and certainly couldn’t face the candlelight singing of Silent Night. My wonderful fellow choristers totally understood. I left, cried all the way home, walked to my brother’s house next door, and wept and drank with another bereaved friend.

I didn’t sing, or play, or anything for quite a while. I felt (and still do feel) like an empty shell. I couldn’t even face choir for over a month. I knew I wanted (and needed) to go back, but just couldn’t – and the choir loft is a safe harbor for me.

Then, one day, a text from Leon (our director). Our choir members were invited to sing The Seven Last Words of Christ with our friends across the street, the First Methodist Church choir.

Yes. Yes, I need that. My first venture back into singing anything since Bubba died was in the First Methodist choir room, not even my own loft – perhaps because that loft and pipe organ has Bubba’s influence everywhere. (I did return to my own loft and church the following Sunday.) I went to practice, and escaped from my own thoughts by diving into sight-reading something I’d never seen or heard before, and joining voices with others who love to sing.

I found myself smiling for the first time in nearly two months. I had something to wrap my brain around, a bit of a challenge, and a fairly new musical environment. I had a musical distraction, and that’s just what I needed. I’d been writing a lot since Bubba’s death, but writing is a solitary activity. I love making music with others, even if I can’t make music with Bubba any more.

We sang the Seven Last Words on Palm Sunday at the First Methodist Church, and will present it at Epiphany Church on Good Friday. I love being a part of creating such beautiful music, and Theodore Dubois’ rich work is moving and very healing. Being partially deaf makes it matter even more that I’m in the middle of it. Being invited to join in this was a gift at the perfect time; it helps, and it gives me hope. And God is so efficient. Just as this was a blessing for me in my own circumstances, I know that God uses this musicial event to bless others in many other ways. Wouldn’t it be amazing to know them all?

After Good Friday, I’ll sing I Know that My Redeemer Liveth on Easter. And then, I’ll have to find another musical challenge because it helps to keep the pain to a dull roar when I’m focused on music. I’m committed to playing for a couple of events in the summer, and ordinarily it would be Bubba and me, but I no longer have that option. Part of me wanted to back out, but I hear Bubba giving me THE LOOK and telling me “don’t even think about it!”

So I take out the 12 string and just play and sing and listen. It hurts, but it is well with my soul. Once again, God saves me through music.

Godspeed, Bubba Murrell

/ a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

Eulogy for Joshua “Bubba” Murrell, given by Brenda Lowry at Church of the Epiphany, New Iberia, LA on December 19, 2023.

How could one possibly distill the essence of Joshua “Bubba” Murrell?
It’s a daunting task… in a beautiful poem (which I’ll read shortly) written by a friend, Gene Dugas, Bubba is described as a Teacher, a Brother, an Artist and Friend. I’ll add to that – he was also a Mentor, a bit of a Mad Scientist, and a Mystic.

Bubba was a Teacher. He had so much knowledge about so many things, and was happy to share his knowledge. We’d been friends since the early 80s, but we didn’t really get close until a little over a decade later after he’d moved back home to New Iberia. And that happened because I needed a teacher. I called him, needing some help with a song I was writing…and that call sparked a long friendship and musical / creative partnership. He was a Mentor to sooo many young musicians – AND to me and many other friends.

He was a Brother of the heart to me and many others. He became part of my family – and Gene, Jody, Phillip, and so many of you can say the same. He was always there for you (although often running a bit late). He was the guy who’d show up at family gatherings with something reallllly interesting…like a potato gun. Remember when potato guns were a thing in the late 90’s? Well, my husband David had built one; a perfectly engineered, pristine, gleaming potato gun made of PVC.

Bubba was inspired by this…so he created a Vegetable Relocation Device. A potato gun, yes, but painted in camoflage, with a laser scope and “magazine.” Then, these guys figured out you could shoot a potato with a flaming tail if you nailed steel wool to the potato. One evening they launched a flaming potato across the road….and caught the cane field on fire. Oops.


Bubba was an artist. He was an incredible musician who could play almost anything. We’d go to the NAMM shows (that’s a big music trade show) and Bubba would play everything he could get his hands on, and ask a million questions about software, new innovations, etc. His Grammy award was for production/engineering and he could team his technical gift with artistic vision. He composed instrumentals of rich, haunting beauty. He was a woodworker. He enjoyed playing with creative software – creating AI images, and virtual theme parks – just for fun. From Bubba, I learned that the creative process isn’t always about being serious – that it’s ok to be messy, and ok to have fun and be silly (and we all know…Bubba could be really, really silly sometimes.)


He never lost touch with his inner child. He approached the world with wonder, awe and curiosity. Now, his inner child was sometimes his OUTER child as well, but there was always method in his madness. He had a collection of stuffed animals because he found that they were more effective (and less costly) than acoustic foam in adjusting the acoustics of any space. Bubba was NEVER afraid to dive in and FIND WHAT WORKED. I’m surprised we don’t have a giant stuffed rabbit tucked up in the choir loft here to help with acoustics. (Several years ago we added harmony vocals to the Women at the Well material. We used his bathroom as a vocal booth, and I stood there and sang Gospel while looking at a Happy New Year teddy bear.)

Bubba at the Bike Festival in Abita Springs, La.


Bubba’s technical genius meant that he understood how things worked, and often improved on them. He’s probably rewiring the PA system in heaven right now. He took great care of our computer network at hoh-PAK, sometimes staying VERY late to work out a glitch or put Microsoft in its place. He configured and installed the sound system here at Epiphany, and kept our pipe organ tuned and repaired.

To some people Bubba could appear scattered (and late), but his mind worked in different ways and moved at warp speed. I’ve seen him hyperfocus – for example, when producing Terrance Simean’s Live! Worldwide CD…when working on our Blue Merlot CD…when moving the pipe organ that his dad had built from St. Peter’s church to its new home at the Community of Christ Crucified in St. Martinville. Bubba disassembled that organ, and oversaw the moving of it – pipe by lovingly wrapped pipe – and consequent reassembly, tuning and tweaking.


He was a bit of a mad scientist…Bubba tapped into this almost otherworldly river of creativity. He was a conduit for ideas and problem solving, and he shared those ideas freely. On more than one NAMM show occasion, we’d see an idea that Bubba had suggested to a company at an earlier show (for instance, a short guitar capo) being released as a new product. Were they inspired by Bubba, or was it one of those ideas floating around the cosmos, with several people tuning in at the same time? Either way, he was a visionary. He wanted – needed – to get ideas out there, and he had an endless supply of them.


What was SO much fun about playing music with him was that we both believed that the music should lead. Sometimes we’d work on specific projects – without him, the Women at the Well program would not have reached as many people as it did – and sometimes we’d just sit and play. Some of our fun projects over the years included Blue Merlot, a series of library and school concerts and presentations, Women at the Well concerts and tour, countless gigs as duo, trio, and full band, parody songs, silly songs (such as Yoo Mama Wears Army Boots) and improvisations that will live on in my heart.


Bubba was a Mystic – He had the soul of an artist, filled from a deep well of spirituality and nurtured by never-ending curiosity. He had a deep faith. I already miss our long conversations about God, life, salvation, and eternity. But he now knows the answers to the questions we would discuss. Whenever I’d feel a bit adrift and uncertain in my faith, I’d tell Bubba, “I’m a little weak in faith right now. Can I borrow some of yours?” and he’d always say yes…and he’d carry me through.


I’d like to share Gene Dugas’ beautiful poem with you. It’s called The Man with the Beautiful Mind:


The Brother, the Artist, the Teacher, the Friend;
His knowledge and talents seemed without end.
He heeded God’s call and left this world behind;
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.-

The Brother was faithful, funny and true
When you needed him most, he’d pull you through
With love and kindness he’d give of his time –
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Artist created a wonderful place
That was heard, seen and felt when you entered his space.
The sounds the sights and colors divine
From the man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Teacher was patient, thoughtful and fair.
Never greedy or selfish, his knowledge he’d share.
He took us along on his wonderful ride:
The man we all knew with the beautiful mind.

The Friend was so special to each and to all
But his time here was done, so he heeded God’s call.
He will surely be missed and we’ll shed a tear,
But he left without pain, without sorrow or fear.
So let us rejoice, and cherish the ride
That we took with the man with the beautiful mind.

Above all, Bubba was a friend. A friend to me, to my family, to all of you who loved him. He loved us back, and his faults are washed clean by his Savior. I’d like to share a thought Bubba wrote just a few months ago, about the word Godspeed. God invented light; God moves faster than light. God moves at the speed of love. We will miss you, dear friend; Godspeed. And we know that since your arrival…heaven will never be the same.

God’s…pronouns?

/ a samaritan woman / 1 Comment

Last week, someone sent me an article with the shocking title “Church of England considers abandoning Christianity.” Well, the CoE has done some wacky things, but this?

I ignored the sensationalist headline and read the article. There is upset that the CoE wants to use more “gender neutral” pronouns. This, the author says, goes against Jesus’ teachings, as He referred to God as “Father.”

I’m a bit wrung out with pronoun quibbling these days, so please forgive me for rolling my eyes a bit.

I can understand where the author is coming from. I also think there is a lot of energy going into something that is….well (IMHO), a bit petty. (Now, if you want to talk about some of the other things the CoE has focused on recently, go right ahead!! But this post will focus on the pronoun discussion. God’s pronouns, that is.)

I’ve never had a problem referring to God as “He.” (I also don’t freak out if you refer to God as “She…” and please bear with me before you scream “heretic!”) I don’t have a problem (at least not yet!) with so-called gender neutral language as long as it doesn’t get cumbersome. To me, “God” doesn’t imply gender one way or the other.

In my mind, to assign a pronoun to God is to attempt to humanize that which cannot be humanized. And it’s natural for us to do that, for how else are we going to wrap our simple brains around the idea of God?

“But Jesus called God his Father!” Yes, and how can we possibly argue with that? Of COURSE God is our Father! God is also our Mother. God is much, much more than we can imagine. And isn’t that glorious?

Jesus alone intimately knew the nature of God, and – I would suspect – realized that our feeble human brains could NOT possibly comprehend this nature. “Abba” summed it up. So did Father. (I wonder how the audience would have responded to Mother)

I also wonder about the response if Jesus had said “Father and Mother.”

Although…perhaps his listeners would have gotten that. They would have been familiar with this creation story in Genesis:

Then God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.”

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:26-27)

I’ve often encountered the supposition that the Holy Spirit is, in fact, feminine in nature. One could say that to categorize aspects of God as “male” and / or “female” is simplification. It is, but our human brains need simplification. And we naturally understand the aspects of male and female.

When you get down to it, we can’t fully know the mind of Jesus; but we can follow Him and study God’s word. While we can never (in this life, anyway) fully understand the whole nature of God, we can know that God is both Father and Mother, Creator and Birther, Redeemer and Comforter, a Glorious Mystery. We believe in the Trinity, and know that God is all of these and so much more. I really don’t think God will be offended if someone uses a wrong pronoun. Those pronouns are for our comfort. Remember: God often calls us to step out of our comfort zones.

This is just my opinion, but…to sum up God with a pronoun is like putting limits on what is Limitless, Eternal, and Beyond all Knowing.

Y’all keep on quibbling about pronouns, I’ll just continue to work on my relationship with God and pray for this broken world.