The Cross, The Crescent and St. Mark's Cathederal

Recently here in Seattle an event that has caused quite a stir is the news that Episcopal Priestess Ann Holmes Redding is both a practicing Muslim and a Christian. Hmmmm.

The linked article provides some commentary from scholars who agree and disagree with her position. There is part of me that finds this sort of inter-faith (interpersonal interfaith?) stance appealing. Perhaps it could be seen as an attempt to "solve" or "reconcile" some of the horrifying violence and atrocities comitted by Christians and Muslims against one another the past 1400 years. Mutual forgiveness and dialogue is certainly needed and important.

But if Redding's aim to be a Christian and Muslim is a (sub)conscious attempt at reconciliation (I'm not sure that it is) does it truly acheive that? What does it acheive? What does it say about Christianity?

Sportin' the 'stache

I have recently been inspired to go to a new world; a place where previously only rock stars, porn stars and middle aged men still living in the 1980s have dared to trod: I have grown a mustache. Undeterred by the threats of my fiance that she would find my physical appearance "absolutely disgusting," I have taken the plunge into the dangerous and uncharted waters of the 'stache. To those of you who may have not yet taken the leap into this realm: jump on in, the water is warm.

I found that a certain freedom accompanies the sporting of the 'stache. It may well appear as foolishness to some or even desperation to others, but with the 'stache I feel a sense of renewed personal identity. Do I look ridiculous? Maybe, even probably. Actually, who am I kidding - of course I do - but that just comes with the territory. It's part of the whole 'renewed personal identity' - it doesn't matter what I look like, right? I'm hip because I've transcended style, 'I don't care anymore' (of course, this sense of freedom could also quite easily be my dishonest attempt to mask my true feelings of insecurity and ridiculousness as I walk around in public with a mustache).

It is no conincidence that at the appearance of my mustache, Olivia happens to be gone for the weekend visiting friends. And it remains to be seen whether I will keep my mustache for her return or even for Church tomorrow morning for that matter. At any rate, my upper lip will rest well this evening in the warmth of the 'stache. While I am embarassed that I am blogging about such a subject on a Saturday night (or any subject for that matter), it was for a good purpose. I think.