woe to you . . . you hypocrites

There is a little church not far from here of the Methodist denomination; it has been around for generations. A few facts from its history or examples of its fruits might be sufficient to identify it, and really is it a wonder that the current foofaraw has not already been smeared across the pages of the local and national newspapers, but I do not feel it is my place, at this time, to identify it. As has been alluded to, it is embroiled in a foofaraw, as it is from time to time, that threatens to shake and challenge the congregation if not the very church itself.

Disclaimer: I am related to, and friends with, members of this church, but am not, myself, a member, nor an adherent of either the sect or its parent religion. I was raised as a variety of protestant christians, notably as a child in a Presbyterian church community, and later as a student in a series of sectarian institutions: Episcopal high school, Mennonite college, Catholic law school; nor am I an adjudicated child abuser, although, to be fair (and safe) it must be noted that I have not enjoyed a great deal of opportunity for that sort of thing.

One family has been a part of this congregation for more than 35 years. The father -- who as a youth had been baptised in the church, and as an adult attended with his family -- is a convicted sex offender: From 1990 until 1993 he had repeated inappropriate relations with a juvenile neighbor. Some years later, around 2000, when the victim's therapist accused him, he pled guilty, was convicted and sentenced, receiving a 10-year sentence, suspended at 18-months in recognition of his exemplary behavior.

At his sentencing hearing, his psychologist and members of the church leadership appeared and spoke on his behalf. The presiding judge, acknowledging the convict's other conciliatory behaviors (pleading guilty, for example, spared the victim and both parties' families the rancor and continuing trauma that a trial would certainly have presented), accepted the psychologist's assessment that the convict was "a situational offender" and thus unlikely to commit such acts again, suspending his 10-year sentence in favor of 18 months (and, of course, continued counseling and restrictions, including being listed on the state sex offender registry).

Upon his release, around 2001, he returned to the church, which he has attended with his family ever since. At that time the church leadership, cognizant of his crime and his served sentence, welcomed him back into the congregation.

In intervening years, the state has amended its sex-offender registry laws, modifying the statutory description and treatment of his offense, so that the registration requirement for his crime -- now reclassified as a Tier III offense -- is not limited to a term of years, as it was when he was convicted and sentenced, but endures for life. Naturally, there are also state regulations barring registered persons from entering properties properly accredited by the state as schools.

Within the past year, a new pastor was assigned to the church and charged with raising membership. To that end, and in light of the aging-baby-boomer demographic of the congregation, the new pastor has made an effort to recruit young families.

Last fall, some, among the new families, discovered that their fellow parishioner was a registered sex offender and demanded that the new pastor bar him from the church. This the pastor immediately and unilaterally did, by telling the man's wife, inaccurately, that, because he was a registered offender, and because the church hosted Sunday school for children and a day care facility during the week, that member of the congregation, her husband, was prohibited from entering the property by state law.

This was not true at the time and it remains untrue.

off the shelf

Brief letters on the Path find metamorphosis to be a lonely business:

The Soul. The World. Master of Time!
A portrait of the bounty, the power of the King—
Adventure dreams of the rolling space of Dawn.

mattyP

mattyP, whose weekly mailing i read and sometimes try to wryly respond sometimes tells me i ought to have a blog. it's easy! so here's one of those thing i wrote, eliciting such a suggestion. mattyP'd told a story of the case of some litigants living in a nursing home which started because it was alleged that, upon their first meeting, the party of the second part caused her cat to urinate on the party of the first part, my friend's client. Other events ensued, so to speak, involving harassment and threats of violence, in which, as i have been given to understand, my friend's client prevailed and was exonerated at law. i was suspicious because, having some exposure to cats, i have noted in them no capacity for taking direction:

I could never get a cat to piss on the shoes of my enemies. Oh, sure, if my enemy were camping at my place for some time and left his shoes casually about and then, independently, did something or other to earn that cat's enmity, too, then, maybe, my cat would piss on my enemy's shoes. Or if my enemy's shoe were filled with soil and there were a precious, precocious little seedling sprouting from that dirt in the first fulsome blush of promised lush verdancy, among the flowerpots of plants larger and more able to absorb the ammoniac flood, then, my cat might piss in that shoe, although, then, not out of enmity toward my enemy at all, but out, instead, of typical raw feral feline enmity to small fragile shoots and fronds.

in the beginning the word

Tim: (crossing 16th street, addressing stranger crossing in the opposite direction) Have you read your bible today?

stranger: Actually, I have.

Tim: (stopping on the double yellow line, directly in the path of stranger, who turns as he continues walking past) What did you read?

stranger: (walking backwards, as Tim and Linda turn and follow stranger to the side of the road) Well, I skimmed through a whole bunch looking for a particular passage, and wound up reading the beginning of all the gospels.

Tim: What passage were you looking for?

stranger: I think it was the beginning of Mark or Luke, “in the beginning was the word and the word was god and yadda yadda yadda."

Tim: That’s the Gospel of John, “In the Beginning was the Word and the Word was with Go—“

stranger: Well, I guess it would have to be, wouldn’t it; if I read the beginning of all the gospels looking for it, it would have to be John.

Tim: You know, what’s interesting is that in the original Greek, the “Word” is not a word like we’re speaking in now, but the Logos.

stranger: Huh.

suspicious omission

Norm:

Officious Aloysius
(who,
meretricious, famishes)
relishes vicious, pernicious, avaricious wishes
for
ambitious Trish’s nutritious knishes
of
delicious fishes
she
establishes
on
siliceous dishes
and
embellishes, judicious,
with
auspicious garnishes
of
superstitious radishes,
while
seditious Dionysius distinguishes capricious
from
expeditious dervishes, brandishes factitious
and
fictitious fetishes, lavishes varnishes
with
propitious repetitious swishes
and
extinguishes malicious tarnishes.

— Patricius

suspicious fishes

dear norm

I ate some suspicious fishes
the other day down the way
and had to wait for a gracious
waitress to drive me home
after her shift by which time
I was done puking but only
beginning to see things and

listed the suspicious bumper
stickers all over the whales
we followed up the Whitehurst
freeway and along the Potomac
on the way to the Beltway
and beyond, writing them down
with melted licorice bics on
a compact disk with a mix of
my friend Mick’s schizoid music

(playing which the waitress
did not tolerate while driving,
and I didn’t need for suspicious
fish poison already on the brain).

schedul'd

I've missed a few days. Pretty busy days. I guess I'll start where I left off.

Duke talked to Mr. Khan and got some more details on the no-rai bang women. Of course they weren't prostitutes. They were consorts: Their job is to be present (men should apparently not drink w/o mixed company in Korea), to talk to and serve the men, to be charming, and ultimately to make men spend more on food and drinks. Nothing illicit or coarse of course.

On Friday (when I made my last entry) I was told that Dr. Kim would pick me up and take all of us to Immigration to register our passports and get alien registration cards. The office was near Wolmi-Do, in the heavily industrial section of Inch’on. We got there and began to fill out forms, until Dr. Kim discovered that we couldn't register because our official invitations said that we would work at Nam Inch’on, when we actually work at Olympiad, Kwan-gyo, and Segaero. I am not sure what happens next, but I have been told by many people not to worry about it, and Mr. Im himself says that he can take care of it. We shall see what becomes of that. Anyway, I got away without working all afternoon (though the time was otherwise wasted).

In the evening Heon-Seong came over to hang out. He brought a guitar to loan me, and a Xiangqi board and pieces. These he also loaned to us. He played two games with Duke and won both of them. I only paid a little bit of attention, but hope that I can learn from Heon-Seong. It is similar to (though greatly different than) chess. Probably it is harder -- but only because the pieces are unfamiliar.

Heon-Seong and I planned to go to Yongsan station to look at (and maybe buy) stereo equipment on Saturday afternoon. As I understood it, I had to work from 10:00 'til noon, and then I was free until five, when I was to meet Mr. Kim and go to his home for dinner. When I arrived at work on Saturday morning, however, I discovered that there had been many changes, and I was expected to work all day. I called Heon-Seong and canceled our plans (though I felt bad about it) and spent the day working with Mr. Kim.

He invited all of us Mi-gooks to attend dinner, but Link claimed to not be free, so the fourth place was filled by (the other) Mr. Kim. It rained very hard all day. In the afternoon I became very sad, watching the rain and not understanding all of the Korean that I was hearing. I do not know precisely why, but I was gripped with the utmost melancholy, and wanted to just curl up and sleep. Ideally just curl up with another person and hold / be held. I think I felt like [redacted] when she is stressed. I understood, at least, her melancholy which drives her to only sleep. I had to struggle not to break down into tears, but five o'clock came, and the Mr. Kims and I left and trekked through the rain to my place, where we met Duke. We all took a cab to Mr. Kim's place, where we met his wife, his son (and later his mother and other son) and I got some glimpse into why he seems so calm and happy most of the time.

Dinner was fantastic and (perhaps) extravagant: Bulgoggi, and kimch'i, and a tossed salad, whipped potatoes w/ corn, radish kimch'i, chop choi, various fish dishes, and finally a stew of fish, mushrooms, vegetables and lots of spicy red pepper served with pap. It was without a doubt the finest meal I have eaten since I arrived in Korea (probably longer). We all drank beer, talked much, and finally I taught them hearts (I won, never getting positive points, and Mr. Kim the Buddhist lost). We all enjoyed it much.

When we arrived home Duke and Link soon went to bed, but I stayed up writing letters and trying to meditate. Consulted the cards; the reading was closer to a clear answer than usual (or, more likely, I am more ready to interpret the cards some way closer to definitive). My mind, or really, my conscious intellect, is in the way. My skepticism gives me a tendency to give up on the brink of "success." But, should I give up, I must work toward further balance anyway. This all sounds good. If I continue to try (working with the immediate rather than the results of doubt and intellect), I shall attain. This, of course, is common sense (as Crowley says magick is common sense) but reason does not speak easily in the language of common sense -- especially a reason so fully contaminated by philosophy. Try, try again.

I slept late yesterday and did little all day: some stretching, some attempt at meditation, a shower, a nap, some Crowley. Duke and I tried to play Chonggi but I cannot understand it. In the evening Heon-Seong came over (his mother came over too, bringing us much food) and we all sat around and talked. Now our plan is to go to Yongsan station on Wednesday during the day. He left and I wrote a letter to [redacted] (not a very good one, unfortunately) did some breathing exercises and began to meditate a bit, then went to bed.

I have a work schedule now: I work evenings during the week, usually three to five hours, and afternoon into evening on Saturday. So I am free during the day. Today I went to the post office, had a shower and lunch. And am now workin' on getting caught up on my journal. I do not need to be at work until 7:30, so I will leave after I eat some dinner.

That's all for now. I'll study some Korean, meditate a bit. And see how much time remains.

Mr. Kim the Buddhist told me that once I assume the Zen position I must think about the secret of the universe. Apparently, should I realize it I will know. He says that if a man does not realize the secret of the universe by the time he is thirty years old, he will not know it until after death. I think that this realization must be on a level other than intellectual but am not yet sure how to think on other levels. Try, try again.