How I See It: Reflections on spirituality, technology, and the art of everyday life

Disciple or lover of God? Who am I Copyright © 1995 by Odell Sneeden Hathaway III Who am I? I am the prince turned into the spider—or maybe I am just the spider who thinks he could one day be a prince. I am sitting on the edge of the sink watching the young woman washing her hair. All I can do is stare up at that glorious sight, intoxicated by it. And when she tries to chase me away, because she knows that I could be hurt by the water she is using, I just sit there staring up until a drop of water flies off her hand and lands on me—burns me and crushes me. And as I lie there dying, I can see her concern for me, and as I die I hope that my death will bring me closer to her and turn me into her prince. Who am I? I am a baby lying in my crib crying, wanting, and needing. My mother gives me a rattle. I play with it and soon find that it is not what I want—it is not what I need. I quickly become bored and start to cry again. This time my mother gives me a pacifier, and...

How do I view myself as a priest? Copyright © 2008 by Odell Sneeden Hathaway III This is a paper I wrote and submitted to the Episcopal Bishop of Los Angeles when I was trying to join the priesthood. The title of this paper asks a monumental question—like asking a man here on Earth to step outside of the Milky Way and say what the galaxies look like. One can never really know what one looks like; one can only look around and try to see things in the universe that act like oneself, and see what they look like and what they are. For me, the decision to try to become a priest is one that I have tried to avoid for over ten years. I have many reasons not to be a priest—I am shy, I am introverted, I am … —but I have only one real reason for being a priest, and that reason is that something inside of me has been telling me to be a priest since I was in high school. For me, being a priest is not a choice of occupation or job—it is what I feel I am supposed to be. A dog is ...

Tom Lehrer: The Man, the Myth, the Music In this report I will introduce the reader to Tom Lehrer—mathematician and songwriter. First, the man: Where did he come from, who was he, what did he do, and where is he now? Next, we’ll look at Tom Lehrer the myth—his effect on the genre of satire and, through satire, on the world—along with some of the stories that have sprung up about him. Finally, we’ll look at Tom Lehrer’s music. Thomas Andrew Lehrer was born in New York City in 1928. As a child he took piano lessons, and at the age of 15 he entered Harvard University, majoring in mathematics. Around the same time, he began writing and performing sarcastic little ditties and parodies—quickly becoming a popular fixture at Harvard parties, especially freshman smokers. He received his B.A. in 1947 (magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa). In 1953 he took up performing in nightclubs and appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show . That same year he took advantage of a new technology—the long-pla...

Should we have compassion for Judas, or can we tell bad from good? Copyright © 2008 by Odell Sneeden Hathaway, III When I speak about Judas, I am not talking about Judas who begat Phares and Zara, nor am I talking about Judas of Galilee, but Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon, who betrayed Jesus Christ. It is he whom I feel is the most misunderstood person in the Bible. Even the writers of the Bible seem to miss the point of Christ’s life when they speak of Judas! It is understandable: they loved Jesus not as you and I do—not as a mystical Savior who died 2,000 years ago—but as a friend they lived with every day, and whose absence hurt them. They needed to put the blame for this hurt on someone; why not Judas? After all, Judas could not defend himself—first, because he did cause Jesus to be killed; and second, because Judas was dead! To begin, let us try to look at the life of Judas from the only source on it that I have found: the New Testament of the Bible. Juda...

From the Michael-Light Connections (the news letter of the Order of Agape and Reconciliation (O.A.R)) Volume 6 October 1991 I received the message that Sister left on my answering machine when I returned home from a retreat that Weaver was leading down here. It was a wonderful chance to spend some time with him. I know that I still owe you a story and so I hope to give that to you during this letter, but before I begin I want to thank you for the magnificent time I had while I was in Canada; it meant a great deal to me, and I look forward to the time when I will be able to be with you again. It goes without saying that at a point in the past (in my case nearly 30 years ago) I was born. There is very little distinction in this and only slightly more in the fact that I was born in California, where I was raised and still live. I would like to say that I have led a happy life, but that would not be true. When I was in second grade, I finally received a distinction (one I did not wan...

I love my dog! I love my dog — but why would I not? She loves me like no other. She is always there when I need her, like no one else I know (though that may be because I do not let them get that close). She never treats me badly, like all the people I have known. But there is still more. I love my dog for a secret reason — one no one knows — because in my dog I have hidden a treasure, one of great value, one that no one may touch. I have hidden from the world, locked up in my dog. I love my dog because my dog is where I have hidden my love. No one loves me at all! They command me, but no one loves me. It has been so hard that now, even when someone tries to love me, I am scared. I run away — back to my dog, back to the one I love. I love my dog; it makes me strong when I need to be safe. Because I know there is no love for me, I can put my dog somewhere safe — and there I can leave my love locked up, where no one can touch it. No one can hurt me if I have my feelings locked a...

Do we have the right not to play with and bend each other? Copyright © 1984 By Odell Sneeden Hathaway, III (Comments on the poem  "Birches"  by Robert Frost) The boy who bends down the tree did not set out to conquer it. The idea of hurting it would never occur to him. It was not a job or a task — each tree was new and different. No rules. Just feeling. There was something in the boy that, when he passed a tree, made him reach out and touch it. This is the true meaning of play: acting without thought — not like playing chess. Most people do not even “play” music; they merely recreate notes. Few allow themselves to flow into their instrument, not knowing what will come out until the moment of playing. But this little boy, passing a tree, goes with the flow of life — which, through him, plays with the tree. In the same way, each of us should play with one another! We live in a world where we are afraid to play. Each of us becomes rigid and stiff. When the ice builds u...