Kara came home from school yesterday very upset. During that day, one of her friends had angrily turned on her and said, "I don't want to be your friend!" The comment, though probably made without any real understanding, went deep.
A few months ago, again at school, a little boy who had been one of Kara's closest friends did the same thing. His parents were moving, and on the last day, he says to her, "I don't want to be your friend anymore." No doubt, he was just going through some kind of kid-grief about the move. Maybe by saying that he was actually saying how much he would miss her. Nevertheless, that isn't what he said; and what he said hurt.
Lynn-nore, Joanna and I have been trying to help Kara understand these things against a larger perspective. There is the "they didn't mean it" approach. There is the direct "tell them that hurt your feeling approach." Let's face it - this doesn't get any easier. The Scripture is full of advice about this very problem: Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing (1 Pet. 3:9). When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it (1 Cor. 4:12). Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you (Luke 6:27-28).
I am also reminded of the little way of St. Thérèse of Lisieux: "I didn't confine myself to saying a lot of prayers for her, this sister who made life such a tug-of-war for me; I tried to do her every good turn I possibly could." (Yes, her habit comes in a habit, but what of it? "Was it from you that God's Message first went forth, or is it to you only that it has come?" (1 Cor. 14.36))
Friday, May 27, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
How much lon-ger/Lo-ung-er/LONG..ERRRR!!!
Lunch with a friend today at a local pub. We would have taken the window seat but this 8-yr-old kid was dancing around waiting for something (maybe another one or two evil glances from me.) As it was, we wound up talking the entire time about scientific reactions to postmodernism and never got hold of anything substantial. Really, lunch is not a bad time for investigative conversation, but you have to go with intent. There is no time for dodgy, indirect ramp-up. Small talk can't have a place at the table; you just blurt it out and get going, proffer some subject and then move on. Gone are the days when Wes and I could drive out to Burger King after class and spend two hours digesting before we actually hit on anything.
Lynn-nore called me on the phone today to double-check her country-artist-to-their-lyric accuracy. This would never occur to me. I would not think, "I wonder who is singing this. It sounds like ex-Journey frontman Steve Perry, but I don't think he's been on the radio for over a decade. Wow, I just can't place it. Hmmm....Oh - wait - I'll use the cellphone and call John G. and ask him to look it up on his computer there at work. Yeah, that's what I'll do." [fumbles with cellphone, eyes darting between road and CRT display.] (ring ring) "Hello?" "Yeah, John!" "Heeeey, unusual to hear from you this time of the day! Whassup?" "Well, listen, I'm not calling to chat, I want you to find out who sings this song on the radio for me." "Song..?" "Yes, I swear it sounds like Steve Perry!... Oh, wait, I'm at a dead spot. Can you hear me? Hello? Can you hear me now, I've gone past that big water tower. Steve Perry....of Journey, remember? He did that solo thing, right? No I don't know what he's been up to since then. Can you look it up on the computer for me? Google it or something. I don't remember the name of the song, but the chorus has this line: "Wait/I want to say/Today hmm..hmmm stray hay my way --something something -- /how much lo-ng-er/No lo-n-ger/No lon-ge-rrr!"
See, this scenario never even occurs to me. But, it occurs to my wife and silly as it sounds, and as frivolous as her call seemed to me at the time, it was good to hear her voice: "Hold on - did you say Steve Perry?"
Lynn-nore called me on the phone today to double-check her country-artist-to-their-lyric accuracy. This would never occur to me. I would not think, "I wonder who is singing this. It sounds like ex-Journey frontman Steve Perry, but I don't think he's been on the radio for over a decade. Wow, I just can't place it. Hmmm....Oh - wait - I'll use the cellphone and call John G. and ask him to look it up on his computer there at work. Yeah, that's what I'll do." [fumbles with cellphone, eyes darting between road and CRT display.] (ring ring) "Hello?" "Yeah, John!" "Heeeey, unusual to hear from you this time of the day! Whassup?" "Well, listen, I'm not calling to chat, I want you to find out who sings this song on the radio for me." "Song..?" "Yes, I swear it sounds like Steve Perry!... Oh, wait, I'm at a dead spot. Can you hear me? Hello? Can you hear me now, I've gone past that big water tower. Steve Perry....of Journey, remember? He did that solo thing, right? No I don't know what he's been up to since then. Can you look it up on the computer for me? Google it or something. I don't remember the name of the song, but the chorus has this line: "Wait/I want to say/Today hmm..hmmm stray hay my way --something something -- /how much lo-ng-er/No lo-n-ger/No lon-ge-rrr!"
See, this scenario never even occurs to me. But, it occurs to my wife and silly as it sounds, and as frivolous as her call seemed to me at the time, it was good to hear her voice: "Hold on - did you say Steve Perry?"
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Living more on Sea than Land
We are living more in sea than land; the rain pounding us for days and days under grey skies. Indoor spaces are dens where light stays in its orange spectrum and corners are rounded off and dark. When the rain stops, there are so many sounds you just listen. Talk is forbidden. Creation gurgles, whines, whistles, putters, flows, sighs, drips and whirls; what can anyone possibly add?
I saw the ocean myself, like a piece of beaten tin smashed and discarded, nearly up over the road. A few tied dinghys here and there were stretching bold and tall. Cars crept along, their headlights like faded advertizing. Careful! some animal power might just wake up and sweep up the road, houses, a Dunkin Doughnuts, that rain slicker'd dog-walker, all of us together down into its greedy, open throat.
Reading: Boethius The Consolation of Philosophy
Hearing: John Coltrane "A Love Supreme"
I saw the ocean myself, like a piece of beaten tin smashed and discarded, nearly up over the road. A few tied dinghys here and there were stretching bold and tall. Cars crept along, their headlights like faded advertizing. Careful! some animal power might just wake up and sweep up the road, houses, a Dunkin Doughnuts, that rain slicker'd dog-walker, all of us together down into its greedy, open throat.
Reading: Boethius The Consolation of Philosophy
Hearing: John Coltrane "A Love Supreme"
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Sean Connery taught me Access
Sean Connery taught me Microsoft Access today. Well, not really - but he was a Scotsman, and he had a grey beard like Sean Connery. He was also kind of ticked off most of the time, like said Connery, and he wore a funny hat like the same does in all the paparazzi press. Tell you what though, he could TEACH Access. Forms, sub-forms, reports, queries, you name it, we took it on!
Lynn-nore and I had a big talk tonight about my whole thing about "the poor and the flesh." Okay, see, all of my life I have been part of churches that just can't figure out what any of us are supposed to be doing. There is a lot of talk (especially guilt-talk) about should, but nothing very effective; nothing real. At first, it used to make me mad at the church. I even swore off churches altogether cir. 1992. Then, one day, I realized that the problem wasn't this or that church, it was the entire church militant everywhere that had this problem! What does it mean to be the church in the West as it enters into late-modernity? I'm simplifying it to a great extent here, but my best guess so far is summed up in these two words: "flesh" "poor." Karl Barth, following Calvin, said that the last thing human beings want to to do is actually encounter the living God. Religion may even be the best way of avoiding God yet invented - but even religion comes to a full stop before those two little words. Yes, only the cross can stand and say anything in the face of those two nouns, and it says to me that there may be something there after all. I have little idea what it really means to truly advance upon either one, but then again, neither does anyone else. Most of what passes for ministry is one of two things: the application of law (re: using a list to avoid God & make you better than your neighbor, like a list of how many times you've read your Bible or whether you are tithing) or therapy (using your hang-ups to avoid God, or trying to discover and vomit out some inner knot in the hopes that it will help you love better, or that it will give you some power over anxiety or, even worse, using intuitive insight to gain power over other people, or at least reduce them to some innocuous, self-gratifying taxonomy). Really, I didn't mean to go there....
Practically, Kara's getting over an ear infection. Lynn-nore's uncomfortable at 31 weeks along. I'm off to try and order Sunday School material on lifeway's website. I'm also advancing on Greek participles again, ha ha!
Lynn-nore and I had a big talk tonight about my whole thing about "the poor and the flesh." Okay, see, all of my life I have been part of churches that just can't figure out what any of us are supposed to be doing. There is a lot of talk (especially guilt-talk) about should, but nothing very effective; nothing real. At first, it used to make me mad at the church. I even swore off churches altogether cir. 1992. Then, one day, I realized that the problem wasn't this or that church, it was the entire church militant everywhere that had this problem! What does it mean to be the church in the West as it enters into late-modernity? I'm simplifying it to a great extent here, but my best guess so far is summed up in these two words: "flesh" "poor." Karl Barth, following Calvin, said that the last thing human beings want to to do is actually encounter the living God. Religion may even be the best way of avoiding God yet invented - but even religion comes to a full stop before those two little words. Yes, only the cross can stand and say anything in the face of those two nouns, and it says to me that there may be something there after all. I have little idea what it really means to truly advance upon either one, but then again, neither does anyone else. Most of what passes for ministry is one of two things: the application of law (re: using a list to avoid God & make you better than your neighbor, like a list of how many times you've read your Bible or whether you are tithing) or therapy (using your hang-ups to avoid God, or trying to discover and vomit out some inner knot in the hopes that it will help you love better, or that it will give you some power over anxiety or, even worse, using intuitive insight to gain power over other people, or at least reduce them to some innocuous, self-gratifying taxonomy). Really, I didn't mean to go there....
Practically, Kara's getting over an ear infection. Lynn-nore's uncomfortable at 31 weeks along. I'm off to try and order Sunday School material on lifeway's website. I'm also advancing on Greek participles again, ha ha!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Easy answers betray no being
On the way in this morning, I was talking to a co-worker who was doing a little complaining. His beef was that a 20-grand kitchen remodeling has become a 40-grand re-do of kitchen & fireplace. Projects always double, he said - echoing my Dad's basic speech on projects: double the time, double the cost. "That's the way every project is," said my companion as we parted ways toward our separate areas, "might as well just plan for it from the outset." I laughed knowingly. Yet, now it occurs to me that I fundamentally do not ever, at any time, follow this advice. What would my attitude about life be if I simply believed this simple truth? When we lose our perspective about what the important projects are, we stumble and fall into the boiling caterwaul of competing needs.
I am God's important project - if only because God promised himself I would be. That really has little to do with me. I can barely swim high enough to begin dreaming about a self not completely dominated by the cultural tsunami of the past, how can I know anything about God's project? That project is more often seen in the embarassingly simple, the "at hand" than in some kind of machinery of Hegelian Geist. Burrow down under trust if you can. (You want to.) Hear a snatch of hope and see if you can plug your ears. (I doubt it.)
I have been listening to an interveiw with Samantha Chang; a writer talking about writing. This is why Martin Heidegger and phenomenology have caught my eye. There's something about them that is what Ms. Chang is talking about, that thing that art-making makes of you. Practical Christianity is a way of reading. Theology is a way of writing. Worship is a way of speaking good to one's neighbor. Altogether extraordinary in the ordinary. Reading, writing and talking - that's what real life is about. A good day always has these ingredients, ordinary bits of this and that thrown into the comfort food that ends a day's work. Theology is archaeology, now. Theology has been reduced and marginalized into academics marching off to dig up what other, living people did. I feel a pulse, though. There's something alive underneath this Lazarus coat. Sounds like my own heart.
Lynn-nore called me at 1:18pm. I'd been thinking about the day Kara was born - at 1:09pm 5 years ago. I am more real to that experience now than I was then. It is richer now than it was then, and it continues to be richer. Dead things are simply that, but living things grow and change with time.
I can't begin to explain to the fellow members of my church the source of their ills and mine. Complexity has overwhelmed us -all of us, once and twice-born. There isn't an easy answer to be found anywhere, and there hasn't been for a very long time. Distrust all easy answers. Of course, then, again, there is the in-your-face of the ordinary, boring, repetitive, even annoying demands to put down your selfishness and care about your neighbor. That is not sexy. Americans like to take off down the highway, chasing dreams of glory, hoping that the daily work of home and hearth isn't all there is to living. Americans war, build, buy, explore and, in the end, winding up embracing the truth that home and hearth are all there is. There it is again, the sacred in the simple. Reading, writing, talking, singing, that is enough for any life - to want more is kind of an idolatry that misses the mark in pursuit of some transcendence without immanence; very God without very Man.
I am God's important project - if only because God promised himself I would be. That really has little to do with me. I can barely swim high enough to begin dreaming about a self not completely dominated by the cultural tsunami of the past, how can I know anything about God's project? That project is more often seen in the embarassingly simple, the "at hand" than in some kind of machinery of Hegelian Geist. Burrow down under trust if you can. (You want to.) Hear a snatch of hope and see if you can plug your ears. (I doubt it.)
I have been listening to an interveiw with Samantha Chang; a writer talking about writing. This is why Martin Heidegger and phenomenology have caught my eye. There's something about them that is what Ms. Chang is talking about, that thing that art-making makes of you. Practical Christianity is a way of reading. Theology is a way of writing. Worship is a way of speaking good to one's neighbor. Altogether extraordinary in the ordinary. Reading, writing and talking - that's what real life is about. A good day always has these ingredients, ordinary bits of this and that thrown into the comfort food that ends a day's work. Theology is archaeology, now. Theology has been reduced and marginalized into academics marching off to dig up what other, living people did. I feel a pulse, though. There's something alive underneath this Lazarus coat. Sounds like my own heart.
Lynn-nore called me at 1:18pm. I'd been thinking about the day Kara was born - at 1:09pm 5 years ago. I am more real to that experience now than I was then. It is richer now than it was then, and it continues to be richer. Dead things are simply that, but living things grow and change with time.
I can't begin to explain to the fellow members of my church the source of their ills and mine. Complexity has overwhelmed us -all of us, once and twice-born. There isn't an easy answer to be found anywhere, and there hasn't been for a very long time. Distrust all easy answers. Of course, then, again, there is the in-your-face of the ordinary, boring, repetitive, even annoying demands to put down your selfishness and care about your neighbor. That is not sexy. Americans like to take off down the highway, chasing dreams of glory, hoping that the daily work of home and hearth isn't all there is to living. Americans war, build, buy, explore and, in the end, winding up embracing the truth that home and hearth are all there is. There it is again, the sacred in the simple. Reading, writing, talking, singing, that is enough for any life - to want more is kind of an idolatry that misses the mark in pursuit of some transcendence without immanence; very God without very Man.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Awake, O Sleeper
Ugh! Awake! - how long has it been? Stumbling around. My face looks unremembered, pale and distorted. The impotent whine of the bathroom fan knocks about like a frustrated poltergeist. I am Lazarus shaking off the wrappings of the dead. I am Beethoven raging in his Ninth Symphony upon the unforgiving bars of deafness. I am a scattered pile of weathered bones provoked by prophecy and restless. And Rimsky-Korsakov's "The Sea and Sinbad's Ship" booms in my ears like a thunderclap of the Messianic Kingdom.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Attack of the Giggles!
As most of you know, Kara is turning five on Thursday, and evidently what comes with five is a little tiny look at what comes at 15! An illustration:
Last week I was driving Kara to school and she was complaining about not wanting to go to school, but just wanting to stay home. I asked her why and she returned to a conversation she had been focusing on for a few days regarding a little boy named Andrew who was chasing her on the playground. Daddy had already tried to explain to her that this is how boys show that they like you and want to be your friend, but Kara was not convinced. So there she sat in the backseat saying to me "Andrew chases me" as explanation for not wanting to go to school and poof! out of no-where I had a momentary mommy-insight and I called her on it - "Kara, you LOVE it!" I said. Her face exploded into the biggest smile ever. "Kara, you love that Andrew chases you! You think it's great." I said and she couldn't deny it. She just sat there blushing and grinning in a smile that is not all that unfamiliar to me from my own youth. We laughed together as only mommy and daughter can over "boys." And then we just let it go. No teasing, no words of anyone k-i-s-s-i-n-g-ing in any trees, but we knew how she really felt and we enjoyed sharing this little secret.
Today we sat down to fill out birthday party invitations for Kara's friends and classmates. We wrote cards for Christopher, David, Katie, etc. and then we came to Andrew. One letter into writing his name and the giggles took over my formerly normal pre-adolescent child, and then the foreshadowing of days to come showed up. The giggles. The beat-red blushing and her hand flying to her face to cover the grin she couldn't let go of. It was a priceless moment. I treasure that my little girl is a happy child experiencing all of the joys of childhood, even the innocence of giggles at a sweet little boy in her class. It's good to see life through the eyes of a child once in while.
It's a prettier place!
Last week I was driving Kara to school and she was complaining about not wanting to go to school, but just wanting to stay home. I asked her why and she returned to a conversation she had been focusing on for a few days regarding a little boy named Andrew who was chasing her on the playground. Daddy had already tried to explain to her that this is how boys show that they like you and want to be your friend, but Kara was not convinced. So there she sat in the backseat saying to me "Andrew chases me" as explanation for not wanting to go to school and poof! out of no-where I had a momentary mommy-insight and I called her on it - "Kara, you LOVE it!" I said. Her face exploded into the biggest smile ever. "Kara, you love that Andrew chases you! You think it's great." I said and she couldn't deny it. She just sat there blushing and grinning in a smile that is not all that unfamiliar to me from my own youth. We laughed together as only mommy and daughter can over "boys." And then we just let it go. No teasing, no words of anyone k-i-s-s-i-n-g-ing in any trees, but we knew how she really felt and we enjoyed sharing this little secret.
Today we sat down to fill out birthday party invitations for Kara's friends and classmates. We wrote cards for Christopher, David, Katie, etc. and then we came to Andrew. One letter into writing his name and the giggles took over my formerly normal pre-adolescent child, and then the foreshadowing of days to come showed up. The giggles. The beat-red blushing and her hand flying to her face to cover the grin she couldn't let go of. It was a priceless moment. I treasure that my little girl is a happy child experiencing all of the joys of childhood, even the innocence of giggles at a sweet little boy in her class. It's good to see life through the eyes of a child once in while.
It's a prettier place!
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
It is Joanna's birthday, but in the meantime..
Part 1: The Discomforting Surmise. Can you imagine sleeping next to an uncomfortable person? Maybe you've been uncomfortable in your sleep before, tossing and turning, squishing your pillow around under your head, throwing out legs and limbs in an attempt to improve circulation and what not. Now let's just say this person is pregnant. Does that make it harder to sleep? Let's say they are 7-months pregnant. Aha! Now you're getting it. Now let's say they have no qualms about doing whatever it takes to improve their situation, even if it means you wake up in the middle of blurting out an accusatory "What the crap?!!" (Not that this has happened recently. This is all just surmise. And the annoying and accusatory manner could have been occassioned by a lengthy dream in which I was in danger of being scammed by a beautiful woman for my credit cards. Yes, and if I hadn't awoken -- again, all in surmise -- to express verbal annoyance, I'd have been the prime witness in an FBI sting operation...but never mind that.)
Part 2. Making the best of an awful night sleep during your day job. For anyone who is interested, I've been pleasantly distracted all day by the proceedings of the World Council of Churches' ecumenical conference on the Holy Spirit and world missions, going on right now in Athens, Greece. My favorite speech so far has been University of Birmingham's Kirsteen Kim, in her plenary address, "How do we Know When the Holy Spirit Comes? The Question of Discernment." Also a favorite is an eschatological paragraph on hope included in Orthodox Archbishop Christodoulos' May 9 invocation. If you want to check out the resources available, which is everything from streaming audio to downloadable Bible Studies, you can go to Mission 2005.
Part 2. Making the best of an awful night sleep during your day job. For anyone who is interested, I've been pleasantly distracted all day by the proceedings of the World Council of Churches' ecumenical conference on the Holy Spirit and world missions, going on right now in Athens, Greece. My favorite speech so far has been University of Birmingham's Kirsteen Kim, in her plenary address, "How do we Know When the Holy Spirit Comes? The Question of Discernment." Also a favorite is an eschatological paragraph on hope included in Orthodox Archbishop Christodoulos' May 9 invocation. If you want to check out the resources available, which is everything from streaming audio to downloadable Bible Studies, you can go to Mission 2005.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Good Times. Real Life.
It was a blustery, rain-soaked weekend. Kara and I were out in it for most of the day on Saturday picking up some things for Mothers Day. We had a good time being together. I felt sorry for her everytime we would make a dash for it. Each gust of wind would blow her hood off and her hair would get soaked. Luckily, the last stop we picked up a half-dozen multicolored balloons. She had a good time playing with these on the way home - it took her mind off of being wet.
Sunday we ate at Cracker Barrel - a real treat. Lynn-nore had catfish and okra. I had grits, biscuits, gravy and country ham. Topped off with sweet tea, and it was a meal that kept us smiling for the rest of the day. Even Kara ate well. I was glad for the good food and happy company, because emotionally it was a tough day. Here is a familiar, but all-too-important Word for Mothers Day:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."
Sunday we ate at Cracker Barrel - a real treat. Lynn-nore had catfish and okra. I had grits, biscuits, gravy and country ham. Topped off with sweet tea, and it was a meal that kept us smiling for the rest of the day. Even Kara ate well. I was glad for the good food and happy company, because emotionally it was a tough day. Here is a familiar, but all-too-important Word for Mothers Day:
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames,but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."
Friday, May 06, 2005
Kara the Brave!
This morning, Kara had her 5-year shots. Ouch! She was very brave, and didn't flail nearly as much as she could have (extrapolated from other meltdown experiences.) Lynn-nore and I were there too sooth her along, and I held her arms so she wouldn't hurt herself jerking away from the needle. All-in-all, I'm glad it is over. I was dreading it for her, even as she was dreading it.
I'm in the middle of moving cubicles, and hoping that David received my message and we will be able to meet this afternoon. Prayer meeting last night was very well attended, and extremely submissive in tone to the will of God. I didn't know what to expect. But, God was present to hear and he dealt with us gently.
I'm in the middle of moving cubicles, and hoping that David received my message and we will be able to meet this afternoon. Prayer meeting last night was very well attended, and extremely submissive in tone to the will of God. I didn't know what to expect. But, God was present to hear and he dealt with us gently.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Do you feel love?
I woke up, to use a line from Homer, "full of spirits." It would be a good day to write, to think, to journal, to email, to talk. But, there is work to do. We "modern" people are so confused. Culture is so big that it can't be stopped! Irony is the only way of pausing for a moment. We have many "goods and services" but how many opportunities for a good, long chat with a friend?
I woke up with U2's album War in my head, "New Year's Day" to narrow, and the Edge's supremely even and beautiful distortion underneath the chorus to be the thing itself. My gosh, what an album is War? Written just as they were beginning to find their musical legs, and in the very middle of Bono's (Paul's) wedding to his childhood sweetheart, Ali, War can only be described as an exercise in liberation theology. War means that holy war against violence, poverty, deception, greed and political power which can only be fought in faith, hope and love because its outcome has already been promised. War is the Kingdom of God, and in particular that portion of the church known as the Church Militant, chafing painfully against the knotty bark of this present age.
Here's how Jürgen Moltmann put it in the introduction to Theology of Hope.
"Christian eschatology speaks of Jesus Christ and his future. It recognizes the reality of the raising of Jesus and proclaims the future of the risen Lord - ‘He is our hope’ (Col. 1.27). In thus announcing his future in the world in terms of promise, they point believers in him towards the hope of his still outstanding future. In the promises, the hidden future already announces itself and exerts its influence on the present through the hope it awakens...faith can have nothing to do with fleeing the world, with resignation and with escapism...the man who thus hopes will never be able to reconcile himself with the laws and constraints of this earth, neither with the inevitability of death nor with the evil that constantly bears further evil. The raising of Christ is not merely a consolation to him in a life that is full of distress and doomed to die, but it is also God’s contradiction of suffering and death, of humiliation and offence, and of the wickedness of evil. Hope finds in Christ not only a consolation in suffering, but also the protest of the divine promise against suffering. If Paul calls death the ‘last enemy’(I Cor. 15.26), then the opposite is also true: that the risen Christ, and with him the resurrection hope, must be declared to be the enemy of death and of a world that puts up with death."
To make a huge leap, this is largely why calls for "evangelize one's neighbors" feel so sour to me. In correspondence with Karl Marx's observation that capitalism reduces all personal relationships to business transactions, such emphases do not seem to value and address the whole person. My neighbor does not receive me (nor I him), but merely my "product." Doing this to the gospel - which is a truth far more dense with living reality than whatever kind of thing human beings are - is like limiting one's experience of a Monet to the black & white reproductions in a 1960's Introduction to Art textbook. Evangelism keeps me safe, love makes me vulnerable. I may learn the techniques of evangelism - in a manner analogous to the way a salesperson learns and perfects their own skills - and I have done this before. When pressed, I'm a very decent salesman. But I have a long way to go when it comes to love. (And I ask, what is this Dear John letter that begins "I love you..."? How do those words go together?) Bono asks many many times (of others and of himself) through the entire corpus of U2's discography, "Where's the love?" or, "Do you feel love?"
Baby don't fight
We can talk this thing through
It's not a big problem
It's just me and you
You can call or I'll phone
The TV is still on
But the sound is turned down
And the troops on the ground
Are about to dig in
And I wonder where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Love and peace("Love and Peace or Else" U2)
I woke up with U2's album War in my head, "New Year's Day" to narrow, and the Edge's supremely even and beautiful distortion underneath the chorus to be the thing itself. My gosh, what an album is War? Written just as they were beginning to find their musical legs, and in the very middle of Bono's (Paul's) wedding to his childhood sweetheart, Ali, War can only be described as an exercise in liberation theology. War means that holy war against violence, poverty, deception, greed and political power which can only be fought in faith, hope and love because its outcome has already been promised. War is the Kingdom of God, and in particular that portion of the church known as the Church Militant, chafing painfully against the knotty bark of this present age.
Here's how Jürgen Moltmann put it in the introduction to Theology of Hope.
"Christian eschatology speaks of Jesus Christ and his future. It recognizes the reality of the raising of Jesus and proclaims the future of the risen Lord - ‘He is our hope’ (Col. 1.27). In thus announcing his future in the world in terms of promise, they point believers in him towards the hope of his still outstanding future. In the promises, the hidden future already announces itself and exerts its influence on the present through the hope it awakens...faith can have nothing to do with fleeing the world, with resignation and with escapism...the man who thus hopes will never be able to reconcile himself with the laws and constraints of this earth, neither with the inevitability of death nor with the evil that constantly bears further evil. The raising of Christ is not merely a consolation to him in a life that is full of distress and doomed to die, but it is also God’s contradiction of suffering and death, of humiliation and offence, and of the wickedness of evil. Hope finds in Christ not only a consolation in suffering, but also the protest of the divine promise against suffering. If Paul calls death the ‘last enemy’(I Cor. 15.26), then the opposite is also true: that the risen Christ, and with him the resurrection hope, must be declared to be the enemy of death and of a world that puts up with death."
To make a huge leap, this is largely why calls for "evangelize one's neighbors" feel so sour to me. In correspondence with Karl Marx's observation that capitalism reduces all personal relationships to business transactions, such emphases do not seem to value and address the whole person. My neighbor does not receive me (nor I him), but merely my "product." Doing this to the gospel - which is a truth far more dense with living reality than whatever kind of thing human beings are - is like limiting one's experience of a Monet to the black & white reproductions in a 1960's Introduction to Art textbook. Evangelism keeps me safe, love makes me vulnerable. I may learn the techniques of evangelism - in a manner analogous to the way a salesperson learns and perfects their own skills - and I have done this before. When pressed, I'm a very decent salesman. But I have a long way to go when it comes to love. (And I ask, what is this Dear John letter that begins "I love you..."? How do those words go together?) Bono asks many many times (of others and of himself) through the entire corpus of U2's discography, "Where's the love?" or, "Do you feel love?"
Baby don't fight
We can talk this thing through
It's not a big problem
It's just me and you
You can call or I'll phone
The TV is still on
But the sound is turned down
And the troops on the ground
Are about to dig in
And I wonder where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Love and peace
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Walked out this morning without my coffee!!
The "um-resignation" of our pastor has been the topic of thought and discussion over the last 48 hours-nearly to the exlusion of everything else. I am hoping to talk to him directly today and begin to get some clarity to unanswered questions.
There has also been some news from work. Myself and fellow editors are moving departments. We’re leaving Business Development and going over to Product Management. One of our number, chosen yesterday and a good choice, becomes our Managing Editor, so that the entire management structure we worked under on Monday morning no longer exists. A move in geography happens today or tomorrow. I'm going the distance of about 50' to a location more in the center of things (re: warmer in winter and on raindy days). There is more opportunity all round in this new position, so it is good news. My workload is going to increase about two times its present volume, though.
Wes' birthday was yesterday. He's 35!! How weird is that? Also, in other assorted bits, my cousin Carson must have fallen down a well because he hasn't updated his blog since April 22. At the same time, it is probably finals week for him - but is that really an excuse? Lynn-nore is doing a good bit of groaning these days, but it isn't enough to stop the cute-pregnant thing. Kara has a bird-watching exercise due tomorrow, so I'm hoping the troupe at home will take advantage of the weather and do some scopus aviatus. I'm back in touch with my roomate, Jason, and his wife. Lynn-nore discovered her email address in an alumni database. As for me, I totally walked out this morning without my coffee, and I really miss it!
Monday, May 02, 2005
The Magic Sunday - beautiful and strange
Yesterday was good and strange. Good in that Kara and I went to see The Magic Flute, good in that worship went great, the worship team was having a good time in the music, and good in that Lynn-nore and Caleb are doing well. My third book review is also finished, and I had fun writing it. The day was strange in that Kara had to be taken out of the service again and in that our pastor um-resigned at the end of his sermon.
The Magic Flute was so much fun! Kara and I drove into town, fought traffic and made it with 9 minutes to spear, I in slacks and tie, she in a pretty dress and tights. I could tell that she was excited. She was on her best behavior and, as we waited, holding hands in line with other parents and children, she kissed my hand and twirled holding to my finger. The ampitheater was nothing special, but the staging was beautiful. Deep purples, blues and silver for the Queen of the Night. Warm reds, oranges and flashing gold for Sorastro. I'm glad that I've been pumping almost nothing but music from Flute into Kara and I over the last two weeks, she songs were familiar enough for us to enjoy them, and the plot well-known enough for me to whisper bits of it to Kara as we watched. She was captivated! She sat on my lap and looked around at all the children, and also at the orchestra pit, where she spotted a Bass as it was carefully lowered in by crouching musician. When the music started, she leaned in and only got bored once, when Prince Tamino was going on-and-on about his love for the Princess Pamina. She didn't get the humor as much, but she's only five. On the way out, each child received a helium balloon. Kara's was a minty green. Walking the few blocks to the parking garage, Kara quizzed me on her favorite character until I finally guessed the Princess. Afterward, she urged me to find a "shortcut" home.
As for the pastor thing... I'm still of so many minds about this. I missed most of the sermon, for one reason or another, and I haven't had the opportunity to talk to any of my deacon families yet about it. In short - more thinking, praying and information gathering is in order in the near future. I was praying this morning about it. Please keep our church in prayer.
The Magic Flute was so much fun! Kara and I drove into town, fought traffic and made it with 9 minutes to spear, I in slacks and tie, she in a pretty dress and tights. I could tell that she was excited. She was on her best behavior and, as we waited, holding hands in line with other parents and children, she kissed my hand and twirled holding to my finger. The ampitheater was nothing special, but the staging was beautiful. Deep purples, blues and silver for the Queen of the Night. Warm reds, oranges and flashing gold for Sorastro. I'm glad that I've been pumping almost nothing but music from Flute into Kara and I over the last two weeks, she songs were familiar enough for us to enjoy them, and the plot well-known enough for me to whisper bits of it to Kara as we watched. She was captivated! She sat on my lap and looked around at all the children, and also at the orchestra pit, where she spotted a Bass as it was carefully lowered in by crouching musician. When the music started, she leaned in and only got bored once, when Prince Tamino was going on-and-on about his love for the Princess Pamina. She didn't get the humor as much, but she's only five. On the way out, each child received a helium balloon. Kara's was a minty green. Walking the few blocks to the parking garage, Kara quizzed me on her favorite character until I finally guessed the Princess. Afterward, she urged me to find a "shortcut" home.
As for the pastor thing... I'm still of so many minds about this. I missed most of the sermon, for one reason or another, and I haven't had the opportunity to talk to any of my deacon families yet about it. In short - more thinking, praying and information gathering is in order in the near future. I was praying this morning about it. Please keep our church in prayer.
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