So having taken the GodlyPlay Training all weekend, -- a way of teaching little kids the Bible, which, you will not be surprised to know I have NEVER read, except in little clumps---I fell into a spiritual tub of butter, as it were, hanging out for the weekend at All Saints church with some truly lovely people-- a few ministers, a number of caring women who wanted to be of service, and a darling young woman who, when I told her I had written a book called THE DAUGHTER OF GOD, where the child of God (I do not say "Christ") comes back as a woman, held her head in horror and said: "Oh, no! A woman is going to be crucified!" I promised her it does not come to that-- the book is cheerful and in parts, actually funny, uplifting, and, as I found out from the woman who works out in the Alumnae Office at Bryn Mawr, whose husband is a black Methodist minister-- that he found it "Biblically sound." That almost put me away, as, having confessed to you I never read it, I am thrilled and somewhat baffled that I actually seemed to know what I'm talking about.
I have only a little bit of a problem with Christ, as my Grandma, still the most wonderful woman I ever had the good fortune to be connected with, if you don't count my school principals and presidents of Bryn Mawr, all of whom were Great Mother Figures for me, both nurturing and guiding, Grandma, a Hungarian Jew whose father was the Wise Man of Szatmar, according to Family Myth, said "Christ was a Nice Man.. a Good Magician." So I have always held him in a loving light, and resisted only making him The One, saving that for God, Him/Her Self. I do believe God is the great Redeemer, except in the world we live in, you have to redeem Yourself.
That is not easy in Beverly Hills, this Rest Stop for the traveling Spirit. But with the help of a few Friends I have here, none of them Quakers which I have been at various landmarks of my journey, am taken for grocery shopping, since I am without a car, a deliberate choice, as I understand what a test the traffic would be for my recently acquired Calm. But I cannot make my way to a Quaker Meeting. So I have had to subscribe to the theory that the Kingdom of Heaven is Within.
Nor am I in easy reach of Jack, my longtime Jewru, as Don called him, a born Jew who said that being that where he lived was like... I don't remember the exact wordage, but it was something like being in a motel in the middle of a desert, which is what Arizona is and was to me the little time I spent in Tucson, one hideous summer while my father was Mayor there... and I was hoping to go to a Daylong retreat with Jack September 4th except it would abrogate my being able to go to a little theatrical presentation here, and getting there and back would be more than difficult, close to impossible, so it's not Meant to Be. But I still have one good and loved Friend who's a Quaker, now a High Official-- I am noticing what I capitalize, and it's interesting-- and we shall re-connect when I go back to New York. Where I can of course walk everywhere and use public transportation, so we shall see what unfolds.
But mostly I need to celebrate being alive, because that is the great gift that each of us is given, and how we unwrap it is our Journey.
Ah, but the Pulots. (I capitalize it because my computer, being driven, keeps correcting it and making it 'plots.') I was worried that I hadn't put in enough gelatin, so added another two packets, and now have pulot Jello. Interesting, a reddish brown color and not bad to the taste, though I would rather have had the jam.
But then the choices we make in this life dictate what the dish will turn out to be. So I would feel very Blessed, yes, I must capitalize that, if I got my Just Desserts. Sylvia Who? or Who is Sylvia? Which do you prefer? And will you all come to the Opening Night, if there is one? Please, God.