Empty suits and empty promises hang around us in the postmodern world. Cults of identity and halo effects are the norms. Caricatures of good guys and bad guys flash across our television sets reminiscent of bad dystopian movies. Mitt Romney is a Mormon, a member of an oppressed religious minority; vote for him. John McCain is a patriot and will save you; vote for him. Barack Obama gives us hope; vote for him. Mike Huckabee is a moral pastor; vote for him. Some things are more easy to stomach than others, but the all-descriptive title is still a bit too unpalatable for most of us to stomach; yet we stomach it just the same. We don't believe there is anything that can fix the problems of the world and so we just allow the planet to limp along. All of Obama's hope-mongoring or all of John McCain's "War is Peace", cannot cure the deeper problems that face America. What can?
Apparently Hillary Clinton's sudden realization that she is a woman will. It is an argument that makes me literally want to cry. Clinton came out with an video on her site saying that if Ann Richards (a former Texas Governor) were alive, she would vote for Clinton. When asked whether her mother would vote for Clinton, Richards' youngest daughter stated that she would indeed be out endorsing Clinton. Richards' two sons said they could not presume to know the will of their mother and thus they could not comment as to what her desires would be. Clinton's campaign asked the two boys a second time if they would allow the item to be aired, and they again said they couldn't in good conscience allow it. The piece was run anyway. No doubt the Clinton campaign will spin it as a miscommunication.
There are several tragic things in this whole fiasco, not the least of which is the peddling of a dead trailblazer's legacy for a presidential campaign that is all but dead. It is akin to Nazis quoting Nietzsche or Luther as reasons for their aberrant behavior.
Ms. Clinton is trying to win by divisive tactics and as an American and an human being I am deeply saddened that, even among my dear friends, she still has support. If I were to get up in front of the country and scream that I must be chosen because I am a man, immediately our minds would connect such a statement with desires to keep women out of the workforce, out of the public square, in the back of churches, and quite honestly barefoot and pregnant. A woman gets up and states that she should be president because she is a woman, and we think that we will be making history by supporting her. We believe that we will be supporting open-mindedness, progressive thinking, and the future.* In essence, though we are only supporting and reinforcing stereotypes.
We also see one of the greatest but one of the most unspoken divides being further exploited just for one person's ambition. There will be some Clintonian satellites who will smear the two sons by saying that they were against it because they were men. That will be a real shame as well. I know from experience that there are certain evils and goods to which a certain sex is predisposed. However society, especially the media, paint these predispositions as defining characteristics. When I watch a Lifetime Movie I ask myself at what point does a boy child turn into a smarmy heel in an expensive suit. When I watch, what to paraphrase Gloria Steinem would call, "Prick Flicks," I can't escape the shear boring emptiness of the female characters. (Honestly, who'd really want to save a Bond girl. It isn't like you could discuss anything of any depth with them.)
I too find myself thinking about advantages and disadvantages of both sexes. I know women have a higher pain tolerance, men are stronger, women are more nurturing, men are more ambitious. Yet on a person by person basis, this falls like an house of cards. I am trying to figure out what to do next with my life, while good girl friends of mine are already in good jobs. I have also seen young "mothers" more concerned with partying or having babies as status, rather than looking at them as blessed responsibilities. When we live a superficial life, we become Hollow Men (and Women).
Ms. Clinton's campaign is a call to hollowness, because hollowness is all she has ever known. She may be smart. She may be ambitious. She may even have happened to be right a couple of times. But none of these things matter without some form of character. I have seen the best and brightest elected to office. I have seen the passionate win elections too. However, without character, these things are utterly useless and many times dangerous. Gore Vidal put it best in his excellent work, "The Best Man." Here one moral and upstanding candidate for president, William Russell, is confronting his unscrupulous contender named Joe Cantwell. Cantwell has just said he doesn't understand a very honorable and sacrificial move that Russell has made. Russell replies, "I know you don't. Because you have no sense of responsibility to anybody or anything and that is a tragedy in a man and it is a disaster in a president."
And not to be too hard on Ms. Clinton, but she is running in a country where people expect easy answers to hard questions. Most all of the candidates are trying to answer these deep problems with feel-good measures. This is bound to be a disaster. I remember reading a book called "Don't Think of an Elephant" by George Lakoff. It was a deeply progressive book and made me want to read the old testament prophets. What is striking about these people is how much reform they talked about and how horribly mistreated they were. Impending doom was at the doorstep of Israel and all the denizens of that country could think about was how the prophets were spoiling their good time. How often do we ignore the prophets of today? We scoff at the people who implore us to take care of those in need. We become angry if anyone says that we shouldn't get a tax cut. We talk about problems with the education system and yet do not take an interest in our own children. How can we, as the masters of this great experiment, expect to have a political servant carry out what is right and at the same time carry out our desires?
There are many good and talented women, just as there are similarly qualified Mormons, war hawks, pastors, and hope-mongorers; but in our zeal to do new things let us first strive to do what is right. We mustn't make an incidental attribute of a person the prime reason for our support. If we are serious about change, we should embrace the desire to elect people based on merit, not on loyalties.
* Of course she has never said right out that she should be elected president because she is a woman, but that is the way she and her husband work. I have a friend who's mother is like this. She says some sort of backhanded compliment or veiled insult, and no one is able to confront her because she denies that she ever meant what you said she implied. I also have a pastor who I met who did the same thing. He fished around to try and understand what we thought, but was only trying to suck-up to us so as to get into our good graces. I have more respect for a person who takes a stand though he or she is wrong than for a person who may be right, but is willing to bend because there is not enough support for what is right.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
...and the winner of best lyricist is...
We're the insect life of paradise:
Crawl across leaf or among towering blades of grass
Glimpse only sometimes the amazing breadth of heaven.
- Bruce Cockburn
I Believe.
- Steve Taylor
There is an argument going on in my head. I can't quite seem to figure out the answer. Who is the best lyricist? While people like Damon Albarn, Julian Casablancas, Pete Doherty, The Beatles, and a slew of others can compete for best composers; and a plethora of Christian bands seem to be lackluster copiers of mainstream music (with exceptions such as D.C. Talk, early Jars of Clay, early Switchfoot, The Waiting, and Five Iron Frenzy); I must admit that the winner of the best lyricist category is a toss up between Canadian Folk Rocker Bruce Cockburn and California Alternative Artist/Producer Steve Taylor.
Both artists are Christian and there is usually some deranged notion that Christians are lacking in fields like philosophy (read Kant, Kierkegaard) or poetry (read T.S. Elliot, John Donne) or a host of other creative fields. However, I have listened to a lot of songs and no artist has come close to the shear brilliance of either person.
Cockburn is almost mystical. Brought up in an agnostic family, he nevertheless found the Christian faith. It has led him to be deeply involved in social justice issues. His album Steeling Fire is one of the greatest albums of all time. It was recorded in response to the unrest of Central America in the nineteen eighties and deals with American apathy caused by the imperialism of the Anglo-American countries. However, like all great Christian artists, the anger is overwhelmed by hope. One can hear the humble rage of the prophets and New Testament figures almost singing along. Cockburn is critical of the West as only a Western Christian can be critical.
Where Cockburn focuses on social issues, Steve Taylor focuses on the inner issues of what it means to be a follower of Christ. Where Cockburn is almost mystical, Taylor is tongue and cheek. Where Cockburn started out as an agnostic, Taylor was a preacher's kid. His greatest album would probably have to be I Predict 1990. The name of the album is not just a good title, it shows a rare gift that Taylor possesses: prescience. He sees the way things move. He is able to predict trends. The songs he writes though are written from the past about the future and yet remain timeless even after that "future" has passed. The last track on I Predict 1990 is called "Harder To Believe Than Not To." It is the greatest song about what it means to be a post-modern Christian. While I am not a fan of his forays into movie-making, it is obvious that Taylor is one of the greatest lyricists of all time.
I do not always believe things so emphatically, and look forward to everyone's responses; but as far as I can tell there is nothing that is so challenging and so true, so intelligent and so emotional, so powerful and so humble as the faith expressed by these two lyricists. There may be better musicians or song writers, but these two are in a class by themselves when it comes to lyrics.
Crawl across leaf or among towering blades of grass
Glimpse only sometimes the amazing breadth of heaven.
- Bruce Cockburn
I Believe.
- Steve Taylor
There is an argument going on in my head. I can't quite seem to figure out the answer. Who is the best lyricist? While people like Damon Albarn, Julian Casablancas, Pete Doherty, The Beatles, and a slew of others can compete for best composers; and a plethora of Christian bands seem to be lackluster copiers of mainstream music (with exceptions such as D.C. Talk, early Jars of Clay, early Switchfoot, The Waiting, and Five Iron Frenzy); I must admit that the winner of the best lyricist category is a toss up between Canadian Folk Rocker Bruce Cockburn and California Alternative Artist/Producer Steve Taylor.
Both artists are Christian and there is usually some deranged notion that Christians are lacking in fields like philosophy (read Kant, Kierkegaard) or poetry (read T.S. Elliot, John Donne) or a host of other creative fields. However, I have listened to a lot of songs and no artist has come close to the shear brilliance of either person.
Cockburn is almost mystical. Brought up in an agnostic family, he nevertheless found the Christian faith. It has led him to be deeply involved in social justice issues. His album Steeling Fire is one of the greatest albums of all time. It was recorded in response to the unrest of Central America in the nineteen eighties and deals with American apathy caused by the imperialism of the Anglo-American countries. However, like all great Christian artists, the anger is overwhelmed by hope. One can hear the humble rage of the prophets and New Testament figures almost singing along. Cockburn is critical of the West as only a Western Christian can be critical.
Where Cockburn focuses on social issues, Steve Taylor focuses on the inner issues of what it means to be a follower of Christ. Where Cockburn is almost mystical, Taylor is tongue and cheek. Where Cockburn started out as an agnostic, Taylor was a preacher's kid. His greatest album would probably have to be I Predict 1990. The name of the album is not just a good title, it shows a rare gift that Taylor possesses: prescience. He sees the way things move. He is able to predict trends. The songs he writes though are written from the past about the future and yet remain timeless even after that "future" has passed. The last track on I Predict 1990 is called "Harder To Believe Than Not To." It is the greatest song about what it means to be a post-modern Christian. While I am not a fan of his forays into movie-making, it is obvious that Taylor is one of the greatest lyricists of all time.
I do not always believe things so emphatically, and look forward to everyone's responses; but as far as I can tell there is nothing that is so challenging and so true, so intelligent and so emotional, so powerful and so humble as the faith expressed by these two lyricists. There may be better musicians or song writers, but these two are in a class by themselves when it comes to lyrics.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I Forgot to Bring a Towel
I Forgot to Bring a Towel
"Hence a phrase which has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in 'Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is.' (Sass: know, be aware of, meet...; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)"
- The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
It isn't that I am a negative guy. At least I don't think I am, but I have really rum luck on trips and like to keep people interested when I tell stories about my trips. This is my most recent story about my most recent trip.
I woke up yesterday, which I suppose is the best thing to do if you want to begin a day or a story. It took me awhile to get ready for the wedding I was going to be attending that evening in Kentucky. I showered, shaved, packed, and brought everything imaginable...except some wine and of course, a towel. I should've known it was going to be downhill from there.
Somewhere on the Ohio border, I misplaced the street I was to be following. I managed to get directions at a local petrol station, and continued across the river to Ashland, Kentucky. I must say Ashland is a pretty little town, but the signage lacks much to be desired. I spent about fifteen to twenty minutes looking for Route Sixty. I finally went into the local Office Max and asked for directions. It turned out that the road I needed was not properly named in my directions from Google. (I do like Google, but their cartography skills lack much to be desired many times.) Now the road itself had the names of the route I needed on a sign, but no arrows. This led me to believe that the road I needed was still to come.
I drove down sixty and made it to Interstate Sixty-Four. I drove down this to the exit I needed, followed the road and went the requisite street numbers. However, my destination was missing. I drove by several times. Out of cell phone reception, I promptly turned my car around to where I could call someone. Amazingly, I was to discover that not only did the town have more than one Mt. Zion churches, it actually had more than one Mt. Zion Christian churches. At this point, I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting to the church in time because the other Mt. Zion was on the other side of the county.
I still was game though. I drove another half an hour, pulled into the parking spot, gathered up what I thought I needed, closed and locked the door...with my keys inside. It was okay though, I would just ask people for help. It would be just another part of the story.
Inside, I found a person dressing up in a panda outfit. Didn't quite know what that was about until later. The pastor was good, but I wanted to challenge his views of marriage, free will, and the role of God in a marriage. Then, the panda came out and gave them the rings. Afterwards, the mother of the groom told me that the best man, Josh, had given Zach, the groom, the idea because when Josh was little he had been asked to be a ring bearer and didn't understand why he didn't get a bear outfit. My friends laughed when they heard this.*
So, they finally got my keys out of the car and I drove to the reception about forty-five minutes after it started. It was a good reception. I saw lots of old friends and no one expected me to dance. (I can drink with the best of them, dancing...not so much.) I had really good conversations with old friends and I will not bore you with those stories.
I stayed the night with a good friend of mine and his wife. (They were both feeling a little under the weather and I pray I don't get what they have had.) I came back today and though I didn't buy a towel for the return journey, I did map my way back a lot better. The most interesting part of the drive (aside from the mixed discs I made), was the part in Wayne National Forest where snow lay before me as if there were a clear line of demarcation. It was so neat.
I am safe at home, but before I go on my next trip, please remind me to bring a towel.
* How am I supposed to laugh at this? The word is bearer not bear. It isn't a true homophone, there is an extra syllable and we are not the bloody British, we don't cut out a plethora syllables just because we've had a bit too much to drink or because we're bored or because we want to screw with other English Speakers. (No, its pronounced Lester, not Lichestershire you stupid American. Look how its spelled Leicestershire, how can you get Lichestershire from that?) The same can be said for Gloucester (Glos-ter), Towcester (Toas-ter), Worcester (Wuss-ter), Beaminster (Bems-ter), and on and on and on. Give the British a word, and they'll abbreviate the hell out of it. However, they have yet to abbreviate it to the point where it is a series of grunts. We will be leaving that for Americans to accomplish on the value menus instead of numbers, according to Jim Gaffigan.
Also I had believed at the time that the panda bear was actually a member of the raccoon family and thus it would've been better to find a black or brown bear suit. However, upon further research, I have discovered that the giant panda is in fact, a bear.
"Hence a phrase which has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in 'Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is.' (Sass: know, be aware of, meet...; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)"
- The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
It isn't that I am a negative guy. At least I don't think I am, but I have really rum luck on trips and like to keep people interested when I tell stories about my trips. This is my most recent story about my most recent trip.
I woke up yesterday, which I suppose is the best thing to do if you want to begin a day or a story. It took me awhile to get ready for the wedding I was going to be attending that evening in Kentucky. I showered, shaved, packed, and brought everything imaginable...except some wine and of course, a towel. I should've known it was going to be downhill from there.
Somewhere on the Ohio border, I misplaced the street I was to be following. I managed to get directions at a local petrol station, and continued across the river to Ashland, Kentucky. I must say Ashland is a pretty little town, but the signage lacks much to be desired. I spent about fifteen to twenty minutes looking for Route Sixty. I finally went into the local Office Max and asked for directions. It turned out that the road I needed was not properly named in my directions from Google. (I do like Google, but their cartography skills lack much to be desired many times.) Now the road itself had the names of the route I needed on a sign, but no arrows. This led me to believe that the road I needed was still to come.
I drove down sixty and made it to Interstate Sixty-Four. I drove down this to the exit I needed, followed the road and went the requisite street numbers. However, my destination was missing. I drove by several times. Out of cell phone reception, I promptly turned my car around to where I could call someone. Amazingly, I was to discover that not only did the town have more than one Mt. Zion churches, it actually had more than one Mt. Zion Christian churches. At this point, I didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of getting to the church in time because the other Mt. Zion was on the other side of the county.
I still was game though. I drove another half an hour, pulled into the parking spot, gathered up what I thought I needed, closed and locked the door...with my keys inside. It was okay though, I would just ask people for help. It would be just another part of the story.
Inside, I found a person dressing up in a panda outfit. Didn't quite know what that was about until later. The pastor was good, but I wanted to challenge his views of marriage, free will, and the role of God in a marriage. Then, the panda came out and gave them the rings. Afterwards, the mother of the groom told me that the best man, Josh, had given Zach, the groom, the idea because when Josh was little he had been asked to be a ring bearer and didn't understand why he didn't get a bear outfit. My friends laughed when they heard this.*
So, they finally got my keys out of the car and I drove to the reception about forty-five minutes after it started. It was a good reception. I saw lots of old friends and no one expected me to dance. (I can drink with the best of them, dancing...not so much.) I had really good conversations with old friends and I will not bore you with those stories.
I stayed the night with a good friend of mine and his wife. (They were both feeling a little under the weather and I pray I don't get what they have had.) I came back today and though I didn't buy a towel for the return journey, I did map my way back a lot better. The most interesting part of the drive (aside from the mixed discs I made), was the part in Wayne National Forest where snow lay before me as if there were a clear line of demarcation. It was so neat.
I am safe at home, but before I go on my next trip, please remind me to bring a towel.
* How am I supposed to laugh at this? The word is bearer not bear. It isn't a true homophone, there is an extra syllable and we are not the bloody British, we don't cut out a plethora syllables just because we've had a bit too much to drink or because we're bored or because we want to screw with other English Speakers. (No, its pronounced Lester, not Lichestershire you stupid American. Look how its spelled Leicestershire, how can you get Lichestershire from that?) The same can be said for Gloucester (Glos-ter), Towcester (Toas-ter), Worcester (Wuss-ter), Beaminster (Bems-ter), and on and on and on. Give the British a word, and they'll abbreviate the hell out of it. However, they have yet to abbreviate it to the point where it is a series of grunts. We will be leaving that for Americans to accomplish on the value menus instead of numbers, according to Jim Gaffigan.
Also I had believed at the time that the panda bear was actually a member of the raccoon family and thus it would've been better to find a black or brown bear suit. However, upon further research, I have discovered that the giant panda is in fact, a bear.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Now Clause
Due to a minor clause in the rules of life, I apparently am cursed by the fates. Odysseus had to sail for ten years before reaching home. Loki was destined to bring about Ragnarök, and I won't even tell you what was in store for poor Oedipus. Me? I am cursed to write a blog all the time. Oh sure, you may have thought that I escaped the fates/norns/tea-leaves (even in my more fanciful times I thought I had outrun it), however here I am once again, furiously trying to keep up with the thoughts spinning through my head. Still, I guess we are all sort of built for things, and to run away from certain parts of ourselves is kind of dangerous. Or, as one guy who was asked to change his ways put it, "To go against conscience is neither right nor safe."
This really puts things in perspective. I know, I know, Judeo-Christians don't believe that life is controlled by the evil outside world and that we just sort of ride out the storm of it all. However, I don't think we would be correct in believing, or rather deceiving ourselves with, the notion that we can control past and future. Humans control precious little and understand precious little. The future is little understood and barely influenced by what we think now. The past can be a bit of a mystery and is completely out of our control. What we are given is the present. What we do with that is a bit embarrassing. We seem to have no use for the present. Career goals, hopes of family life, and the fear of facing death seem to occupy our thoughts about the future. The thoughts of the past are filled with embarrassments and triumphs, the first kiss, the first car, the first job, the tests, the failures, the successes.
But what does "right now" mean to us? You know it is one of our few gifts. I find it odd that when I think about now, I don't even picture now. I picture the point that my life has led to or the starting point of where my life is going. I try and work out strategies for success or resolutions not to fail again. It seems even I can't quite get an handle on "now." Now means nothing to human beings, and yet it is the place we call home.
When God walked the earth, He seemed to be the only one who got the notion of "now." He really got it! And what did he do with his "now"? He gave it back to God the Father. It makes perfect sense when you stop to think about it. I just finished reading the opening passages from John 11. This is the famous part of the Bible where Christ allows his buddy Lazarus to die, and then raises him from the dead. Christ was faced with tremendous temptation. He could've saved Lazarus, he could've walked away from Jerusalem. Christ was the only person to honestly know His future and instead He trusted God. It is puzzling that we don't have as many gifts given to us, and yet we do not do the same thing.
Now, I am going to break things up a little bit here. Assuming there is a Muslim who happens to be reading my blog post. I hope you do, and I hope it helps you out a little bit, though I can't take any credit for it. Muslims believe Christ was a prophet and not the son of God. How much more of a prophet could we ask for than one who submits the only time he occupies to God, namely his present.
We are not really honest with ourselves when we deal with God. We say we have faith, but we really have a lot of plans for our lives and when God doesn't run on our schedule we get a little ticked. When I run late for work; I am much more angry with the slower motorist who keeps me from getting to work on time, than I am with myself for my ten minutes extra of sleep. I think God is like that motorist. We then begin wondering what we might have missed or we begin thinking that God has a plan set-up with detailed time frames and we can't miss the boat. (Speaking of missing the boat, anyone remember Jonah. He made the boat that he wasn't supposed to be on, and God had a plan for him. Jonah still made it to his destination, but he did take a detour. God is with us even when we don't follow the instructions clearly enough. God is with us when we take detours and scenic routes.)
I guess we should just be open to the eternal now. I am currently applying for a bunch of things, and I should just throw things into God's corner. Plans are great and reminiscing is great too, but they are like books: great to read and get stuff from, but in the end the stories are a bit out of our control.
And yes, I am an hypocrite. My biggest problem is my inability to put one foot in front of the other, but sometimes the best people to tell us how problems work are the people who wrestle with them. Former drug addicts make excellent speakers against drug use. Reformed workaholics teach us the importance of rest. And, come to think of it, sinners make excellent experts on how to try and avoid sin.
So, as two-thirty ante meridian approaches on a very busy weekend for me, I can tell you that there are not cruel fates controlling your life or my life; but there is a God who wants you to realize that you only have to think about the gift of today. Yesterday and tomorrow are in His area of expertise. Just think of Him as a good friend who's company you enjoy and who tells the most wonderful stories. When I get into those situations, I can't pull myself away from that person. I want to stay there all day and all night long, just talking and listening. The difference with God is, we are already home, we don't have to go anywhere. Home is the present and God lives with us right here. At least that seems to be the clause in the rule of life.
This really puts things in perspective. I know, I know, Judeo-Christians don't believe that life is controlled by the evil outside world and that we just sort of ride out the storm of it all. However, I don't think we would be correct in believing, or rather deceiving ourselves with, the notion that we can control past and future. Humans control precious little and understand precious little. The future is little understood and barely influenced by what we think now. The past can be a bit of a mystery and is completely out of our control. What we are given is the present. What we do with that is a bit embarrassing. We seem to have no use for the present. Career goals, hopes of family life, and the fear of facing death seem to occupy our thoughts about the future. The thoughts of the past are filled with embarrassments and triumphs, the first kiss, the first car, the first job, the tests, the failures, the successes.
But what does "right now" mean to us? You know it is one of our few gifts. I find it odd that when I think about now, I don't even picture now. I picture the point that my life has led to or the starting point of where my life is going. I try and work out strategies for success or resolutions not to fail again. It seems even I can't quite get an handle on "now." Now means nothing to human beings, and yet it is the place we call home.
When God walked the earth, He seemed to be the only one who got the notion of "now." He really got it! And what did he do with his "now"? He gave it back to God the Father. It makes perfect sense when you stop to think about it. I just finished reading the opening passages from John 11. This is the famous part of the Bible where Christ allows his buddy Lazarus to die, and then raises him from the dead. Christ was faced with tremendous temptation. He could've saved Lazarus, he could've walked away from Jerusalem. Christ was the only person to honestly know His future and instead He trusted God. It is puzzling that we don't have as many gifts given to us, and yet we do not do the same thing.
Now, I am going to break things up a little bit here. Assuming there is a Muslim who happens to be reading my blog post. I hope you do, and I hope it helps you out a little bit, though I can't take any credit for it. Muslims believe Christ was a prophet and not the son of God. How much more of a prophet could we ask for than one who submits the only time he occupies to God, namely his present.
We are not really honest with ourselves when we deal with God. We say we have faith, but we really have a lot of plans for our lives and when God doesn't run on our schedule we get a little ticked. When I run late for work; I am much more angry with the slower motorist who keeps me from getting to work on time, than I am with myself for my ten minutes extra of sleep. I think God is like that motorist. We then begin wondering what we might have missed or we begin thinking that God has a plan set-up with detailed time frames and we can't miss the boat. (Speaking of missing the boat, anyone remember Jonah. He made the boat that he wasn't supposed to be on, and God had a plan for him. Jonah still made it to his destination, but he did take a detour. God is with us even when we don't follow the instructions clearly enough. God is with us when we take detours and scenic routes.)
I guess we should just be open to the eternal now. I am currently applying for a bunch of things, and I should just throw things into God's corner. Plans are great and reminiscing is great too, but they are like books: great to read and get stuff from, but in the end the stories are a bit out of our control.
And yes, I am an hypocrite. My biggest problem is my inability to put one foot in front of the other, but sometimes the best people to tell us how problems work are the people who wrestle with them. Former drug addicts make excellent speakers against drug use. Reformed workaholics teach us the importance of rest. And, come to think of it, sinners make excellent experts on how to try and avoid sin.
So, as two-thirty ante meridian approaches on a very busy weekend for me, I can tell you that there are not cruel fates controlling your life or my life; but there is a God who wants you to realize that you only have to think about the gift of today. Yesterday and tomorrow are in His area of expertise. Just think of Him as a good friend who's company you enjoy and who tells the most wonderful stories. When I get into those situations, I can't pull myself away from that person. I want to stay there all day and all night long, just talking and listening. The difference with God is, we are already home, we don't have to go anywhere. Home is the present and God lives with us right here. At least that seems to be the clause in the rule of life.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Pursuit of Heaven
Movies, TV screens reflect just what you expected
There's a world of shiny people somewhere else
Out there following their bliss
living easy, getting kissed
while you wonder what else you're doing wrong
- The Weepies
Now if there is anything in the world that is a gift of the Gods to men, it is reasonable to suppose that happiness is a divine gift, especially as it is the of human things...But even if happiness is not sent by the Gods but is the result of virtue and of learning or discipline some kind, it is apparently one of the most divine things in the world; for it would appear that which is the prize and end of virtue is the supreme good and is in its nature divine and blessed.
- Aristotle
How much time do we spend thinking about our own happiness? We think about all the things we want and desire. We think about all the things other people have that we don't and it really burns us up inside. I have a dear friend getting married to a girl he has always loved and cherished. I went to a marriage half a year ago for a couple who were absolutely enamored with one another. Other friends aren't concerned with relationships, but with a good career. I'm envious of them too. These people seem to know exactly what they want and how to get it. Me, I don't have a clue. Then there are my good friends who know exactly how to behave around people. They know how to make small talk and be polite. I don't have this gift either. Small talk bores me, and unfortunately that makes up a good deal of other people's judgments of us.
Then there is the fact that when you think about this kind of stuff too much, you begin to feel guilty. You feel guilty for judging people you love so much. Or, you begin to feel guilty that you have been duped into believing the lie that "the grass is always greener." It may be cliche, but cliches come from somewhere. Or you might feel guilty because you realize that there are starving children, or war torn countries, or people in hospitals fighting for their lives; and you are sad because you can't figure out what is missing in your life.
These thoughts only make a person feel more gloomy. We get to feeling cut off from everyone. Even God doesn't really make it that easy. While St. Thomas Aquinas talks about how God is the ultimate happiness, Jesus seems to go a little nuts telling us that happy people are those who are getting the short straw.
There is a line in the movie Field of Dreams where the main character, Ray Kinsella, has just been passed over to go and see something amazing. He gets angry with the person who made the request, Shoeless Joe Jackson. In a fury he says to Shoeless Joe, "I did it all. I listened to the voices, I did what they told me, and not once did I ask what's in it for me."
Shoeless Joe replies, "What are you saying, Ray?"
"I'm saying...what's in it for me?" replies Ray.
"Is that why you did this Ray, for you?" asks the baseball player, "I think you better think about that."
Okay, remember what I was writing above, forget that. I feel quite odd writing this blog post and changing its subject right in mid stream. You see, I was going write about how we can't really attain happiness and can't really pursue it. Happiness happens when we are really pursuing life. Happiness is feeling blessed and glad for the things we have. But, sometimes, we just don't feel that way. We feel like when we are sad we should feel worse because we are melancholy or morose.
We think about what's in it for us. We can't get over our sadness and even our friends offer us no consolation. So, what gets us out of our funk? "Simple pleasures are the last refuge of the complex," state the British/Irish author Oscar Wilde. I usually spout this quote as a pithy little bon mot to my coworkers and friends. However, after thinking about all the things I have been thinking about above, I have found my simple pleasure. Ironically I was looking up the quote from Field of Dreams and decided to read a few user comments. As I read, I realized how much I love this film. I love it so much in fact that just thinking about it or reading people's comments on it; makes me happy. One person (from England ironically) said this about the movie, "It is the perfect film to watch if you are feeling down and thinking life is lousy." Ironically, just thinking about it accomplishes the same goal.
Perhaps you have a different movie, book, television show, or song that gets you through. Maybe you have good friends who take you out shopping or hiking. I don't know. All I know is that when I start thinking about Field of Dreams I can't help but think, "Maybe this is Heaven."
There's a world of shiny people somewhere else
Out there following their bliss
living easy, getting kissed
while you wonder what else you're doing wrong
- The Weepies
Now if there is anything in the world that is a gift of the Gods to men, it is reasonable to suppose that happiness is a divine gift, especially as it is the of human things...But even if happiness is not sent by the Gods but is the result of virtue and of learning or discipline some kind, it is apparently one of the most divine things in the world; for it would appear that which is the prize and end of virtue is the supreme good and is in its nature divine and blessed.
- Aristotle
How much time do we spend thinking about our own happiness? We think about all the things we want and desire. We think about all the things other people have that we don't and it really burns us up inside. I have a dear friend getting married to a girl he has always loved and cherished. I went to a marriage half a year ago for a couple who were absolutely enamored with one another. Other friends aren't concerned with relationships, but with a good career. I'm envious of them too. These people seem to know exactly what they want and how to get it. Me, I don't have a clue. Then there are my good friends who know exactly how to behave around people. They know how to make small talk and be polite. I don't have this gift either. Small talk bores me, and unfortunately that makes up a good deal of other people's judgments of us.
Then there is the fact that when you think about this kind of stuff too much, you begin to feel guilty. You feel guilty for judging people you love so much. Or, you begin to feel guilty that you have been duped into believing the lie that "the grass is always greener." It may be cliche, but cliches come from somewhere. Or you might feel guilty because you realize that there are starving children, or war torn countries, or people in hospitals fighting for their lives; and you are sad because you can't figure out what is missing in your life.
These thoughts only make a person feel more gloomy. We get to feeling cut off from everyone. Even God doesn't really make it that easy. While St. Thomas Aquinas talks about how God is the ultimate happiness, Jesus seems to go a little nuts telling us that happy people are those who are getting the short straw.
There is a line in the movie Field of Dreams where the main character, Ray Kinsella, has just been passed over to go and see something amazing. He gets angry with the person who made the request, Shoeless Joe Jackson. In a fury he says to Shoeless Joe, "I did it all. I listened to the voices, I did what they told me, and not once did I ask what's in it for me."
Shoeless Joe replies, "What are you saying, Ray?"
"I'm saying...what's in it for me?" replies Ray.
"Is that why you did this Ray, for you?" asks the baseball player, "I think you better think about that."
Okay, remember what I was writing above, forget that. I feel quite odd writing this blog post and changing its subject right in mid stream. You see, I was going write about how we can't really attain happiness and can't really pursue it. Happiness happens when we are really pursuing life. Happiness is feeling blessed and glad for the things we have. But, sometimes, we just don't feel that way. We feel like when we are sad we should feel worse because we are melancholy or morose.
We think about what's in it for us. We can't get over our sadness and even our friends offer us no consolation. So, what gets us out of our funk? "Simple pleasures are the last refuge of the complex," state the British/Irish author Oscar Wilde. I usually spout this quote as a pithy little bon mot to my coworkers and friends. However, after thinking about all the things I have been thinking about above, I have found my simple pleasure. Ironically I was looking up the quote from Field of Dreams and decided to read a few user comments. As I read, I realized how much I love this film. I love it so much in fact that just thinking about it or reading people's comments on it; makes me happy. One person (from England ironically) said this about the movie, "It is the perfect film to watch if you are feeling down and thinking life is lousy." Ironically, just thinking about it accomplishes the same goal.
Perhaps you have a different movie, book, television show, or song that gets you through. Maybe you have good friends who take you out shopping or hiking. I don't know. All I know is that when I start thinking about Field of Dreams I can't help but think, "Maybe this is Heaven."
Monday, February 4, 2008
With the Superbowl over, we can move on to better things.
There is no question that yesterday's superbowl was a very good game. The defense was spot on and the two teams really played their heart's out. But, I can't help but think that it is only football. I know, I know, football has a lot of strategy and physicality. Some people have even gone so far as to start compiling some history, but it pales in comparison with the real national pasttime.
While channel surfing tonight, I happened upon an old baseball game where Red's pitcher Tom Seaver pitched a no-hitter to the St. Louis Cardinals. There is an elegance to baseball that is so wondrous, it fails comparison.
Let us take the history for example. People talk about the history of different American sports, but baseball occupies a unique place. We Americans actually feel that it could be possible for the baseball players of today to play against the ghosts of yesterday. Or take statistics, baseball is rife with statistics. The game is practically mathematical theorems facing off against one another. Not only do the statistics of today fight with one another, they vie for dominance with the statistics of players long dead.
Baseball is usually hard to grasp because it requires patience. It is a game of mental stress alleviated by bursts of pure energy and will. One cannot use brute force to compensate for a lack of planning, intelligence, or what have you. Yet, the body is constantly be asked to do things that defy what it should be able to accomplish. (I do not know of one week where the highlights of baseball do not far over-shadow the highlights all other sports.)
As I watched the re-run of just one, seemingly insignificant, game of baseball, I turned to my dad and said, "I will die loving this game." This was not said while I watched the superbowl, just a simple game of baseball.
While channel surfing tonight, I happened upon an old baseball game where Red's pitcher Tom Seaver pitched a no-hitter to the St. Louis Cardinals. There is an elegance to baseball that is so wondrous, it fails comparison.
Let us take the history for example. People talk about the history of different American sports, but baseball occupies a unique place. We Americans actually feel that it could be possible for the baseball players of today to play against the ghosts of yesterday. Or take statistics, baseball is rife with statistics. The game is practically mathematical theorems facing off against one another. Not only do the statistics of today fight with one another, they vie for dominance with the statistics of players long dead.
Baseball is usually hard to grasp because it requires patience. It is a game of mental stress alleviated by bursts of pure energy and will. One cannot use brute force to compensate for a lack of planning, intelligence, or what have you. Yet, the body is constantly be asked to do things that defy what it should be able to accomplish. (I do not know of one week where the highlights of baseball do not far over-shadow the highlights all other sports.)
As I watched the re-run of just one, seemingly insignificant, game of baseball, I turned to my dad and said, "I will die loving this game." This was not said while I watched the superbowl, just a simple game of baseball.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
When Smooth Words Fail Us. (Hope part 2)
"It requires moral courage to grieve, it requires religious courage to rejoice."
- Soren Kierkegaard
"There may be Herostratoi who set fire to temples in which their image is worshipped."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
On my previous post I talked about the elusiveness problem of trying to find hope. I suppose I am more concerned with the other odd quality of hope, its toughness.
One can feel the ground-swell of anger in this country. There are so many problems that they seem to overcome us. We get so angry at the caucophony that we scream just to know we have a voice. Then we know the horrible truth, we are just adding to the noise.
So often we want to fight the system in the face of the lies that swirl around us. We think to ourselves that we must fight evil with evil or else with our self-righteousness. Yet, both have in the past proven to be poor replacements. Hope will always be tied up in our faith. Faith is something that calls to us from the eternal now.
We have memories of how life should've been and dreams of how life will be, but in the chaos of current life, we cannot seem to see outside the box. It is no use making up stories about what lies outside the box, but it doesn't change the fact that we know there is something outside. If we didn't have faith that their was, our hope would scream to us that there was.
And yet this fighting is not to be one of sorrow. The truly sad are only those who are disappointed when life doesn't turn out the way they want. The hopeful are constantly in awe of the eternal now. There is a wonder in hope. We do not know the future, and there is no respectable belief system that says we should. However, we believe in beauties of the present. We make our peace not with the world, but with truth.
So, when the smooth words are over, and the false illusions of the human progress peddlers have drown into the background; we can be sure of that hope in the deeper meaning of life, the thought behind the words. It is the refuge that gives us the joy to face the uncertainties inside as well as outside our boxes.
- Soren Kierkegaard
"There may be Herostratoi who set fire to temples in which their image is worshipped."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
On my previous post I talked about the elusiveness problem of trying to find hope. I suppose I am more concerned with the other odd quality of hope, its toughness.
One can feel the ground-swell of anger in this country. There are so many problems that they seem to overcome us. We get so angry at the caucophony that we scream just to know we have a voice. Then we know the horrible truth, we are just adding to the noise.
So often we want to fight the system in the face of the lies that swirl around us. We think to ourselves that we must fight evil with evil or else with our self-righteousness. Yet, both have in the past proven to be poor replacements. Hope will always be tied up in our faith. Faith is something that calls to us from the eternal now.
We have memories of how life should've been and dreams of how life will be, but in the chaos of current life, we cannot seem to see outside the box. It is no use making up stories about what lies outside the box, but it doesn't change the fact that we know there is something outside. If we didn't have faith that their was, our hope would scream to us that there was.
And yet this fighting is not to be one of sorrow. The truly sad are only those who are disappointed when life doesn't turn out the way they want. The hopeful are constantly in awe of the eternal now. There is a wonder in hope. We do not know the future, and there is no respectable belief system that says we should. However, we believe in beauties of the present. We make our peace not with the world, but with truth.
So, when the smooth words are over, and the false illusions of the human progress peddlers have drown into the background; we can be sure of that hope in the deeper meaning of life, the thought behind the words. It is the refuge that gives us the joy to face the uncertainties inside as well as outside our boxes.
What Do We Hope For? (Hope part 1)
We don't need to look to the Bible to hear stories of people who tell us what we want to hear triumphing over people who tell us what we need to hear. Politicians, if we are really honest with ourselves, have won our support by telling us they are cutting taxes or bringing in jobs when we know they are lying. Economists tell us that we can have our cake and eat it too, when simple reality dictates the irrationality of their claim. Even artists will invite us to indulge in this nonsense. Our syrupy love songs about people "not treatin' us right" or books that posit some self-love garbage wrapped in pretty words, stroke our ego. Isaiah and the Psalmists talk about people listening to those with "smooth words" rather than the real God or at least common sense.
But, more importantly, what happens when the "smooth words reality" fades away into the mist? We are left even more hopeless than before. We struggle in this wasteland like drowning souls in the ocean or thirsty people in the desert. Alone, or so we think, we begin questioning everything that has led us down this path. There are many paths we think of taking. Some become angry at the system or people that "led" them down a certain path. Other folks "get religion,"* which is another form of trying to break the system or people that "led" them down a path. Then, there is a third choice; a tougher one than the previous two.
The first two choices are easy for us to pick. The require little of us, only our passions. They give us both the light of our pride for being on the winning side and the ability to jettison the belief when it becomes too much or we just get bored. In addition to this we are never responsible for when bad stuff happens. There is always an easy scapegoat: the unenlightened, the evil-doers, and sometimes even God himself. We are given a purpose (though one that gives us no real pleasure) and the pride for doing what is right.
In listening to Arcade Fire's latest album, Neon Bible, I understand their anger and frustration with the banality and ubiquity of modern culture. I understand the desire to scream at the world, but we must understand that it does little good to do this if all we have is contempt and hatred for the world's lower nature. This brings us to the third choice, and the most difficult one.
Hope. Presidential candidate Barack Obama has wrapped himself in the mantle of hope. He has been amazing at his eloquence of this subject. Indeed, he is to be commended for doing three things: first trying to instill the notion of "hope" in all those who back him and the country at large, secondly, he has worked hard to get people to believe that "hope" is an agent that can change things for the better, and lastly, he has been able to assist people in transcending the pettiness of everyday "politics."
However there are some main problems with Mr. Obama's strategy. From a purely political way of looking at things, he is obviously okay. But, we can never be interested in just the purely political. His discussion about how we must hope has not, and indeed cannot, eat down into the core of many people my age. Instead of hoping for a better future, they seem more interested in fighting the powers that be. Assuming the powers of today are vanquished, what are these people going to do when the new problems face them? Secondly, Mr. Obama's hope is based on a world view that we can save the world. But, like the person saved by the protagonist at the beginning of the Incredibles, what do we do if the world doesn't want saving? Human beings cannot save the world, we can only affect it.
Let me make it perfectly clear, Mr. Obama is a very good candidate. He has character; one of the only true indispensable characteristics of a great leader. Yet, Mr. Obama's message is one product of a people fed up with the base hedonism of its age. This leads to an important question. If our main problem in society is base hedonism and lackluster lifestyles, what can one candidate really do? He can really only plug up the dams. What can one citizen movement really do? They can only put Band-aids on the problems.
No, our society suffers much deeper problems than just pork-barrel spending and taxation irregularities. We have larger problems than corporate welfare or welfare queens. We cannot fix these issues until we ourselves are fixed. And we know we cannot do that. Wilson tried to end all wars. Johnson declared war on poverty. Both presidents, hopeful in the remedies, failed miserably.
Hope therefore is rooted somewhere deeper in humanity than in our policies. Hope is rooted in our faith. Hope is made of tougher stuff than what we want or what we think we ought to do. Hope declares that we must dig deep within ourselves and ask not what we hope for, but what needs to be done. Sometimes hope means that we have to abandon what we want or what we believe will be easiest for us. I do not see a politician, even someone as gifted as Mr. Obama, being able to deliver us hope. He may wake us up to our need for hope (an obviously important and praiseworthy task) and he may give us things to hope for; but he cannot give us hope. That will come from somewhere else. The question is do we want it? Do we want real earth-shattering hope...or do we want smooth words? It is a question we human beings must ask ourselves every day.
* I should note that when I say, "get religion" I am referring to the curious way that people trust the laws of God that so appeal to them; not the real earth-shattering, mind-blowing thing. Real faith is a force of nature.
But, more importantly, what happens when the "smooth words reality" fades away into the mist? We are left even more hopeless than before. We struggle in this wasteland like drowning souls in the ocean or thirsty people in the desert. Alone, or so we think, we begin questioning everything that has led us down this path. There are many paths we think of taking. Some become angry at the system or people that "led" them down a certain path. Other folks "get religion,"* which is another form of trying to break the system or people that "led" them down a path. Then, there is a third choice; a tougher one than the previous two.
The first two choices are easy for us to pick. The require little of us, only our passions. They give us both the light of our pride for being on the winning side and the ability to jettison the belief when it becomes too much or we just get bored. In addition to this we are never responsible for when bad stuff happens. There is always an easy scapegoat: the unenlightened, the evil-doers, and sometimes even God himself. We are given a purpose (though one that gives us no real pleasure) and the pride for doing what is right.
In listening to Arcade Fire's latest album, Neon Bible, I understand their anger and frustration with the banality and ubiquity of modern culture. I understand the desire to scream at the world, but we must understand that it does little good to do this if all we have is contempt and hatred for the world's lower nature. This brings us to the third choice, and the most difficult one.
Hope. Presidential candidate Barack Obama has wrapped himself in the mantle of hope. He has been amazing at his eloquence of this subject. Indeed, he is to be commended for doing three things: first trying to instill the notion of "hope" in all those who back him and the country at large, secondly, he has worked hard to get people to believe that "hope" is an agent that can change things for the better, and lastly, he has been able to assist people in transcending the pettiness of everyday "politics."
However there are some main problems with Mr. Obama's strategy. From a purely political way of looking at things, he is obviously okay. But, we can never be interested in just the purely political. His discussion about how we must hope has not, and indeed cannot, eat down into the core of many people my age. Instead of hoping for a better future, they seem more interested in fighting the powers that be. Assuming the powers of today are vanquished, what are these people going to do when the new problems face them? Secondly, Mr. Obama's hope is based on a world view that we can save the world. But, like the person saved by the protagonist at the beginning of the Incredibles, what do we do if the world doesn't want saving? Human beings cannot save the world, we can only affect it.
Let me make it perfectly clear, Mr. Obama is a very good candidate. He has character; one of the only true indispensable characteristics of a great leader. Yet, Mr. Obama's message is one product of a people fed up with the base hedonism of its age. This leads to an important question. If our main problem in society is base hedonism and lackluster lifestyles, what can one candidate really do? He can really only plug up the dams. What can one citizen movement really do? They can only put Band-aids on the problems.
No, our society suffers much deeper problems than just pork-barrel spending and taxation irregularities. We have larger problems than corporate welfare or welfare queens. We cannot fix these issues until we ourselves are fixed. And we know we cannot do that. Wilson tried to end all wars. Johnson declared war on poverty. Both presidents, hopeful in the remedies, failed miserably.
Hope therefore is rooted somewhere deeper in humanity than in our policies. Hope is rooted in our faith. Hope is made of tougher stuff than what we want or what we think we ought to do. Hope declares that we must dig deep within ourselves and ask not what we hope for, but what needs to be done. Sometimes hope means that we have to abandon what we want or what we believe will be easiest for us. I do not see a politician, even someone as gifted as Mr. Obama, being able to deliver us hope. He may wake us up to our need for hope (an obviously important and praiseworthy task) and he may give us things to hope for; but he cannot give us hope. That will come from somewhere else. The question is do we want it? Do we want real earth-shattering hope...or do we want smooth words? It is a question we human beings must ask ourselves every day.
* I should note that when I say, "get religion" I am referring to the curious way that people trust the laws of God that so appeal to them; not the real earth-shattering, mind-blowing thing. Real faith is a force of nature.
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