As a superlative ELO fan, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for introducing me to “Ticket to the Moon.” It is such a pleasure to hear a new song from one of my old favorite bands. (I remember discovering Bowie’s “Rock n Roll Suicide” post-college days and it saved me the expense of buying anti-depressant meds).

Isn’t love dialogue in movies outrageous? It may have had its predecessors, but “Love Story” (1970) is a horrible early example, and I bet it was responsible for millions of divorces in the 80s by instigating utterly USELESS communication!! Ali McGraw is so effing annoying. Here’s a link to ADMONISH OUR PARISH OF THIS HEINOUS FILM: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JASEIR8hjzk

I’d also like to know your thoughts on how music lyrics have contributed to love language. Take the lyrics, “Baby, now that I FOUND you I can’t let you go. I BUILT MY WORLD AROUND YOU.” Jesus C, that is sick. Where was this woman he “found”? Under a rock? At the end of a rainbow in a pot? I wonder if building his world around her included the benefits of joint tax filing. Poor guy.

What it all made me think about for some reason was the word “relationship.” To me, “relationship” applies to two aspects of your sermon: One is this need to see connections between things or how we crave neatly woven narratives about life. The study of taxonomy and Bible stories are examples of the need to find relationships between organisms, events, random happenings, etc. The second meaning of “relationship” that related to your sermon is pretty simple – interaction between human beings as social creatures, like parent & child, Laverne & Shirley, reverend & parishioners.

I think religious narrative in particular really combines these two readings of the word “relationship.” Religion attempts to fill in the gaps of knowledge that are looming mysteries to us. AND religious institutions have been used not only to congregate & socialize people but also to assert control and authority over-and-between humans. Being a total heretic, I don’t buy any of them. However, I am reminded of the role of story telling in my family. Example: my maternal grandmother’s tendency to impose her brand of narrative on people and events was what made her an engaging person and a great entertainer, but at the same time she could often inaccurately interpret situations and (sometimes hurtfully) peg people. It sort of hit me that my first real sense of freedom, like a first emotional growth spurt, occurred when I learned not to accept family narratives at face value or at the very least take them with a grain of salt: you don’t have to believe that the dead dog ran away with the circus, or that a crass, lazy, drunk uncle was “certain” to be a successful stand-up comedian, or that a nerdy cousin’s demise at college was just “inevitable” (these are just illustrations, by the way – none of these actually applies to my family). But anyway, by rejecting fate-filled narratives, I became more of a “free particle.” But this, too, may be part of my own narrative! Yeah, so what the hell IS a duck bill platypus anyway?