Thoughts on Einstein

You might as well not be alive if you're not in awe of God -- Albert Einstein

This does not sound like the Einstein I have heard and read stories about. My residence in Princeton was quite near the home of Albert Einstein and as I walked to class I often looked up into the second-story window where he had an office. He was born in Germany to non-practicing Jews and developed a respect for Christians after the second World War, stopping by Miller Chapel on the Princeton campus on occasion to tip his hat to the "only people who tried to protect my people during the holocaust."

I always thought Einstein was an atheist, but it turns out I was wrong.

He once described the human endeavor to understand God this way, "We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books—-a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects." I like the mystery this image encompasses.

Pastors are often invited to speak about God with clarity and wisdom. Someone asked me today about the work of God in the midst of human pain. "Blah, blah, blah" I answered. All the while thinking, "While I can speak from some experience, most of this is my best guess, you know." An educated one (I will be paying on this brain of mine for awhile) and a reflected one, but my theology is dominated by hope rather than assurance.

Today while I cleaned and scrubbed and sanded a hardwood floor in the church with a group of fun girls (trying to fix up the parlor for meetings), hundreds of thousands of people sifted through rubble for people, for food, for some semblance of a life in Haiti.

Aaaah, Haiti. What will we do for you, so far away?

Awe and mystery and fear and sadness and hope. All of those seem just about right.

Mazungu Baby!

I taught my sister to wear her baby Zambian style. I know my friend Esther does not read this blog, but this is dedicated to you, dear friend. I am passing on good lessons you shared with me!


I am back in Philly after a long day and night of travel. 2010 has begun! I am ready for some new adventures and some LAUGHTER. Enough with the dreary winter blues!


What should I accomplish this year? Writing a novel seems a bit too ambitious, but tempting. Here are a few ideas I am kicking around:


- Hold the hand of someone who does not expect it
- Eat an ice cream cone on a concrete curb with a friend on a sunny day
- Take a photography class
- Read a really good book
- Take a beautiful picture to give to a friend
- Go somewhere I have never been before
- Host at least one great dinner party


I need some more ideas. Any suggestions? Things you are going to do?

God bless us, every one!

Thank you Charles Dickens for reinvigorating we anglophiles with a love for Christmas celebration. At least, I have heard this is to whom we must give credit. The Christmas holiday had fallen out of favor in mainstream English culture until he wrote “A Christmas Carol.” Actually, I am just happy to have been born into a land of immigrants. I love that I have already taken part in Christmas traditions from Holland (Sinterklaas), Sweden (Glugg), Denmark (looking for a hidden almond in a delicious dessert), and some of my own family traditions as well. Tonight I finished reading my nephews Tate and Tyson the book “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever” just like my grandmother used to do every year and I had trouble choking back tears, of course, as awful Imogene Herdman wept over the baby Jesus. This is a wonderful story for children.

My nephews crack me up. Four-year-old Tyson and I did some yoga together today (he pronounces it yaga—as in Yahtzee) and Six-year-old Tate announced that he plans to have three simultaneous careers when he grows up: a meteorologist, a food scientist, and a dark ninja. He has asked his parents for a trip to Japan for training.

I arrived on December 26th, traveling most of Christmas Day. I had enough time along the California coast to remember that I find the ocean profoundly orienting. Flanked by the Pacific Ocean to the west and the lights of San Francisco to the east, I had enough time on the runway at the San Francisco International airport to recognize the particular shape of Ponderosa Pines and a sign for “In and Out Burgers” in the distance. The peaks of the Cascade mountain range and blankets of fir trees welcomed me home and I have enjoyed a very green, rain-soaked Christmas with friends and family. This part of the world still carries with it a familiarity that I hold deep within me.

Zambia has no Dickens. Most of the world has never heard of the Christmas Carol. I think it is a profoundly human trait to begin to think of oneself as the center of the universe. And it leads to our undoing. May my eyes be clearer this year and my thoughts more generous.

It is New Year's Eve and like most of you I am amazed that another year is over. My friend Rob said, "The good has been really good this year. The bad has been really bad this year" and I must agree. As the sage from the book of Ecclesiastes writes, there is nothing new under the sun.

Here's wishing you and yours much laughter and courage in the coming year. May we all be better, stronger, wiser, and warmer.

Twas the night before the night before

Twas the night before the night before Christmas and I am sitting on a chair in the bathroom next to the radiator because this is the warmest room in the house. I love to be toasty warm. A cold snap issued a snowstorm of epic proportions last week and I have tried to make time to enjoy it as much as possible. Someone built this snowman near my house and I find him absolutely charming. I thought he might brighten your day as well.

It is Advent, just two days before Christmas and strangely I do not feel deeply connected to the holiday this year. I wonder what that is all about? I put up a glorious Christmas tree downstairs, have helped lead weekly Advent services, lit plenty of candles, listened to lots of Christmas tunes (Baby it's Cold Outside and The River are two of the favorites this year). I have shared short meditations on the nearness of God, and yet, somehow if my heart had a rating it would likely be rated as ummm.... trying to find the right word here... subdued?

Subdued is not a typical "Carmen state of being."

But some seasons are like that.

I paused to notice the shape of the snowdrifts behind the church today. In the midst of the city, beneath the grand buildings, lie small mountains made up entirely of intricate flakes, blown and frozen into blankets of white, sublime and quiet.

Friends, all over the world, wishing you a good yule, a Merry Christmas, happy holidays, Frohe Weihnachten, God Jul, and all the rest. May your holiday be full of good food and good conversation, peace and joy!

Bloggity Blog

Last blog posting = author feeling not-so-cheerful
Current blog posting = author feeling quite-cheerful-indeed

Hey friends. This morning I slept luxuriously late and chose to lie around in my bed (in my Cindy Lou Who striped pajamas) reading mags. Tis the season for subscription renewal and I am looking for some good recommendations.

I love the Economist, but I find a weekly magazine too intense. I would prefer a monthly subscription to something. The Atlantic Monthly is excellent (my friends Peter and Cheryl in Zambia introduced me), but I am open to other ideas. Anyone have any suggestions?

It is Saturday and I am about to go on a long walk. I am thankful for the gift of time today. Time to sleep late. Time to walk. Time to read. Time to be attentive to the world and how good it can be. Life is not without its share of challenge, but it is relentlessly good. Wishing you some goodness today.

A lengthy post

You know you need a proper date when the clerk at the corner store calls you "babe" and you think "that might have been the closest I've come to being an object of desire in a long time." Well, besides the 50 year old divorcee who asked me out at a funeral reception last week (yes, I was wearing my clerical collar at the time). Nothing against this 50 year old divorced man, but the whole thing was suspiciously fetish-tastic.

I just ate a 1/2 pint of chocolate fudge ice cream. It is like déjà vu from last spring. Life is good, but life is also hard these days.

So, why did I come to Philadelphia?

About six months ago I walked into a beautiful, old historic church in Center City, Philadelphia that seats more than 700 people and was told that 9 people attend services each week. It is a church in desperate need of imagination, love and attentiveness. And so I signed on. It felt like a good fit at the time. It gave me room to ask questions about the relevance of church in a world where its message and work has become obsolete in many parts of the world. For a minister, I am strangely suspicious of church. I am the first person to admit that church is often associated with destructive discourses characterized by shame and is known to exploit power, yet I remain curious, and open, to church as being something different, something other, something better. I remain compelled, for better or worse, by the Christian tradition, its Hebrew roots, and the notion of a God that draws near.

I came to Philadelphia to enter into conversation with people who want to reimagine church and how it can be deeply reflective on the spirit, on sacred texts, on God at work in the world and compel people to work toward a life and a world that is more meaningful and compassionate and just. That all sounds very well and good until you attempt to put this into practice. Our church sits next door to the Comcast tower, home to one of the most successful corporations in the United States and every day people line up around the block to bring their children to a 20 minute 3-D holiday show on a massive screen in their lobby. People make time for this kind of entertainment (surprisingly drab), while the building next door remains empty. This gives me pause to think. For the last two mornings I passed out invitations to the neighborhood for a midweek Advent service and today I sat in a pew amongst a dozen people. Not one new person came.

My friend Keelan said to me tonight, "Carmen, the church is a tough sell. You should have gone for knives."

He could be right.

I have not given up hope on God or hope in church, but this job has proven more challenging than I originally imagined. Friends have reminded me to take one day at a time as in all big challenges and of course they are right. But on days like this, a life of teaching and travel and romance sounds a great deal more appealing :-) For now I will crawl into bed, thankful for heat and clean drinking water, a paycheck, good friends and family and the hope that life is full of surprises.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

I walked home today at the wrong time and got caught in sleet without an umbrella. My jeans were sopping and my wool coat was thoroughly drenched by the time I got to the haunted manse. I was cold and amused at the whole thing until I realized that most of my comrades on the road were homeless people with no warm home to return to. One woman stooped over a grate, trying to warm a pair of gloves in steam being released from the subway below. Homelessness racks Philadelphia.

Last week I saw a man sitting outside a barber shop surrounded by all he owned, His white head perched above bags of clothes and shoes, looking content as king of his own mountain. On the glass behind him, just above his head, the words "You are beautiful" were printed. A serendipitous place to sit.

The sleet turned into big, fat snowflakes by the time I got to a coffee shop where I met a woman who is a domestic and global AIDS activist who has lived in Philadelphia for a decade (I had trouble not choking when she generously ascribed "friendly" to this city-- I think I might get proven wrong one of these days). She was inspiring and I hope to meet her again someday.

I am off to a "Sinterklaas Party," which should be fun-- a Dutch couple is sharing this festive tradition with us tonight (wikipedia this to see just how strange--even slightly offensive-- this tradition is to our modern sensibilities). Happy Sinterklass to you!!

In honor of weird holiday traditions, I leave you with this picture I took last week on a walk in Princeton. This yard made me smile.