Still With The Story?

Zack was glad to stop in at the parsonage the next evening. He liked and respected the Pastor, and he had grown spiritually a great deal under his strong and sensitive preaching. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and then the Pastor said what he had heard, and he expressed his concern in a kindly way.
Zack said, yes he was doing that, and he believed he was following the commands of Christ.
"I guess there were three people, more than anyone else, who got me to thinking about this," he said to the Pastor. "And two of them were in our church. The first was Mr. Toosma. You remember him?"
"Of course," the Pastor nodded. "The economist who spoke here on Layman's Sunday."
"The thing I remembered most about his sermon," Zack said, "was his saying that loving our neighbors as ourselves obviously entailed guaranteeing our neighbors an income large enough to live on. I know he said it when he was talking about tax reform. But it seemed to make a lot of sense to me, and I thought it had to apply all over if it applied at all. I knew there were a whole lot of people in the world who didn't have enough to live on. I began to wonder if I did love them as much as Jesus said we should. And what I could do to try to help them live."
"But did you ever think, Zack," the Pastor said gently, "that maybe you're taking Toosma too literally? Maybe you need to give him a little room for rhetoric, and interpret him a little more reasonably. After all, I don't think he's starving, is he?"
"No," said Zack, "I don't think he is starving. But I don't see what that has to do with me. What he does is his own affair, or maybe his and God's. I really mean that. I don't want to criticize him, but it was his argument, not his example, that struck me. Could I really love my neighbor in the Sahel, and know that he was starving, and then go ahead and buy a rump roast for myself at the A&P?"
Zack paused, but the Pastor said nothing now, waiting for him to finish. So Zack went on, "The second person was John Phillip, the Christian editor who spoke to the men's fellowship a while back. He told the story of a Christian leader who couldn't eat his egg one morning when he was a guest in a South American home, because he noticed the children of the house staring at it. He realized that his hosts had saved the egg for him, but the children were hungry. And he couldn't eat the egg because he was so tender-hearted. He had to leave it for them. And then Mr. Phillip suggested that when we sat down to eat we might try to imagine the poor and the hungry standing by the table, looking at us. And then, he said, we could send some money for the relief of the poor."
And now Zack looked intensely at the Pastor.
"You know, I tried that, and I could do it. I really could imagine the black African from the Sudan, the Indian child from Ecuador, the starving woman from Bangladesh still holding her dead baby, all standing beside my table as I ate. And I thought that if they were really here I wouldn't eat it all myself. I'd at least share it equally. Of course, they weren't really here--only in my imagination. But they really do exist and they really are starving, this very day. They're not here. But does a thousand miles, or two or three, really make all that much difference in what we ought to do?
"And then the third man was Garret Hardin."
The Pastor looked puzzled. "Who's that?" he asked.
"Hardin is a biologist," Zack said. "I haven't ever seen him, but I've read a little of his stuff and something about him. As well as I can get it, Hardin thinks that the United States and a few other countries are like lifeboats in a sea full of drowning people. If we try to take everyone in, the boat will be swamped and everybody will drown. The only thing to do is to leave most of the people in the water to drown. That way the people who are in the boat will have a chance to survive. So, Hardin says, the U.S. can't feed the world. If we try it then the population growth in places like India will soak up everything we send and demand still more. We'll be drained till there's not enough left to do any good here or there. The only thing to do is to let starvation take its toll in other places while we try to get our own lifeboat into some safe haven where maybe we can start over."
The Pastor looked more doubtful than ever. "That sounds pretty hard-hearted to me," he said. "Is this man Hardin supposed to be a Christian?"
"I really don't know at all," Zack replied. "A lot of Christians, and some other people too, have criticized him for being hard-hearted as you say, or selfish, or something like that. And maybe he is hard-hearted. I don't know. But what really attracted me to his thought was that he seemed to be more hard-headed than most of his critics."
"How's that?"
"Well, most of the people who criticize Hardin seem to be just assuming that of course we can have just about every nice thing there is, with only a few adjustments. If we just ate a little less beef and a little more chicken, or if we just got rid of a few mean people in the Department of Agriculture or the Du Pont Company then we could have a comfortable life here and we could eliminate poverty everywhere else and things would be fine all over. But mostly, it seems to me, they believe things like that just because they want to, or maybe they couldn't stand it to believe anything else. But Hardin talked seriously about the possibility that we may really have to make hard and tragic choices - that there is going to be pain and sorrow and starvation no matter what we do - but that our choice may have a little effect on how much there is and on whom it will fall. It seemed to me that he was willing to stick his neck out and make a hard choice and acknowledge it. And I thought a Christian ought to try to be at least as hard-headed as that. So I said to myself that maybe Hardin is not. And if he's right and there aren't enough places in the lifeboat, then what side of the gunwale am I going to be on? In the end my own decision for myself is different from Hardin's, I think, but I learned more from him than from most people."
Zack was getting a little steamed up. He had been pretty pale lately, but his face was flushed now.
"That's why I couldn't get interested in anything like the weekend conference on Alternative Life Styles that the Inter-Faith Coalition sponsored last month. Somebody was coming in overalls to conduct a workshop on how to live comfortably on $33,000 a year. But I already know how to live comfortably on $33,000 a year. And if I didn't know how, I could just set a budget of thirty-three thousand and stick with it and I'd learn soon enough. But while I was living comfortably I'd know that around the world some of my neighbors were still fighting to survive on maybe $100 a year, or even less. And so what good what it be?"
Zack leaned forward, hands gripping the chair, staring at the Pastor. For a moment his intensity seemed to surge out, filling the living room. Then he sagged back, the passion ebbing from his face, his hands relaxing.
"Anyway," he went on, "I put the three of them together. The love that Toosma mentioned, Phillip's imagination, and Hardin's hard-headed lifeboat. I imagined myself in the lifeboat, and I looked out and saw my neighbors in the water. The waves were green, but the black heads and the brown heads were everywhere in the waves. Maybe it was God who gave me a love for them - I suppose it was. The lifeboat bobbed up and down in the swells, but it was dry. But in the swells some of the heads would go under and then they would come up again, glistening wet and gasping. Some of them went under and did not come back, and after a while I knew I would not see those faces again.

Frequently Feingold

You know how there are those literary and cinematic clichés and conventions used to depict dystopic societies- things like secret laws, trials without transparent process, hyper-militarism, government seizure of people and property without any suspicion of wrong-doing, and perhaps worst of all the categorization of everday behaviors as potentially threatening and criminal? They are elements of some of the most significant literature/art because these conventions are able to hold a critical mirror up to our existence. The irony of it is we know they are horrible as a matter of entertainment (or even seen in someone else's country) but then we embrace these things as our civic salvation when a matter of our own governance. It's very much like the irony of self-described followers of Jesus embracing the very same modes of being he confronts and challenges in the Gospels. Isn't that funny? Strange funny, not ha ha funny.

Also, you know how in those same stories there is a hero who stands against the world by simply doing the common? The world is so screwed up the mundane has become heroic.

Remember any of that from high school English classes?

Anyway.

In completely unrelated news Russ Feingold, PBUH, has introduced/sponsored legislation undoing MY PRESIDENT'S creation and use of secret laws and challenging DHS policies that allow security agents to flout the 4th amendment of the Constitution.

A completely unheroic and common thing to do would be to let your Senator know what you think of Russ Feingold's proposed legislation. Unless of course you're a 30 percenter, in which case you should just go watch TV.

I was going to write, "in which case you should just go read your Bible," but that sounded needlessly harsh though I thought it would fit with the Sinclair Lewis chestnut "When fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross." See how thoughtful I am to have not written it that way.

In Former Soviet Union, Meaning Carries Symbols
Higher Ground- Stevie Wonder
Maggie's Farm- Bob Dylan
Get Back- The Beatles
Night Train- James Brrown
I Held Her in My Arms- Violent Femmes
Alienation's For the Rich- They Might Be Giants
Anatome- Joe Wise
Kid A- Radiohead

And Yet Again

A lot of people around the building began to look at Zack in an odd way, and then they would look away quickly, a little embarrassed, if they thought he noticed them. It wasn't that none of them was a churchgoer. Many were, and they understood giving money to charity and giving to church relief projects and things like that. Some of them had even fasted, as they called it, skipping a meal on a special day and giving the money for a special project in the church connected with the famine. And a couple of them even had a special sort of piggy bank on the dinette table. At dinnertime everybody would put in a coin. And when these banks were full they were going to take them down to the church on a special Sunday, and all of the money would go to send wheat and rice to the famine-stricken areas of the world. They understood things like that. But none of them had sold or given away all of his or her clothes except for one complete outfit (and a pair of pajamas, as Zack explained somewhat sheepishly later on). And so they had the feeling that Zack was doing something they didn't really understand all that well.
The next solid piece of information was dug out by Hilary Whittaker, who was a real health nut and blunt mannered as well. When he knew that Tom Houston had broken the ice, he watched for a good chance to ask Zack right out what he actually was eating. Zack told him it was mostly beans and rice and potatoes (but he didn't know how to make anything you could really call lunch, to put in a bag). When Hilary asked him how much, Zack told him what he generally had in the morning and the evening. Hilary had his little book of calorie counts and protein content and things like that, and he added it quickly. Then something happened to his face, and he added it again. He got the same answer, and he knew how thin Zack was getting, and he didn't add it a third time. Instead he said, "Do you know what you're doing, you idiot? That's below the starvation level! If you go on like that you'll actually starve to death. Actually starve, do you hear?"
Zack said yes, he knew. He'd gotten some books from the public library and added up the figures just as Hilary had. "But," he went on, "do you know that there are hundreds of thousands of people in the world, maybe millions, who don't eat any more than this day in and day out? I read somewhere that there are ten thousand dying of starvation every week. I'm probably the only person you've ever seen who was starving, but I've read that in Calcutta they pick up the bodies every morning on the streets. Starving to death isn't all that strange, you know. It happens every day."
And Hilary opened his mouth and shut it and walked away. He could talk your ear off if he got going about health, but he didn't know what to say to somebody who knew he was starving himself and went right on doing it.
John Pencewaite, in the personnel division, wasn't at a loss like that. He had a master's degree in counseling from the University of Michigan and had been a high school counselor (not an academic counselor, he sometimes made a point of explaining) before he came here to work. He did not send for Zack until he did his own homework - looked up Zack's personnel file, talked to a couple of people, thought out some alternative moves.
"That fellow Baumkletterer is a good worker, damn productive," he told the Assistant Director. "We've made an investment in him, recruiting him, training him, carrying him along the ropes. There's no sense letting him go down the drain without a fight. I know something about these religious types. They're not all hopeless."
When he talked about Zack he always called him "Baumkletterer," but when Zack came to his office he tried to get him on a first name basis right away, jollied him up a little, and eased into the topic at hand.
"I can't tell you, Zack, how proud all of us are to have someone like you working here. What you've been doing in your own quiet way has really got a lot of us thinking about what's really worthwhile in life, you know."
And he went on like that for a while, gradually suggesting that he was concerned, just a little, that a person might go overboard on something like this, all with the best will in the world. And then he started casually throwing out the figures he had worked up. What they showed was that if the most affluent nations would just cut down on their standard of living a bit, there would be enough for everyone. It wouldn’t even have to be a drastic cut - just things like eating less meat, not using synthetic fertilizers on lawns and golf courses, driving smaller cars. They could still have a comfortable standard of living, a good life, and there would be enough for everyone. And he suggested that if Zack were to cut down his own consumption just that much then he would be doing his fair share.
Zack didn't say anything right away. He was a little doubtful about some of the figures, and he wondered if Mr. Pencewaite wasn't just making some of them up. But he really didn't know. And then it occurred to him that the figures and the whole line of thought that was being suggested were just irrelevant to him.
And so he said that maybe Mr. Pencewaite was right, and he hoped that the affluent nations and the people in them would cut back on their consumption in that way. But he really couldn't see how that had much to do with him. For it seemed to him just about as plain as anything could be that people generally weren't cutting back like that, and so there in fact wasn't enough for the poorest people in the world and it didn't look as though there would be. And he believed he had to choose his own actions according to the actual conditions in the world, not according to the way the world would be better if everyone did something better.
In the actual world there were thousands upon thousands of people whose daily diet was below the starvation level, who wore the one and only set of clothes they had day in and day out and nights too, and so on. That was the world in which he had to act and to justify his acts. And if he was to love those people as he loved himself he didn't see how he could justify keeping more food and clothing for himself than they had for themselves. He couldn't see that he had any more right to a good dinner or an extra pair of pants than they had. So far as he could see, if he loved them as he loved himself he would share equally with them, and that was what he was trying to do, as much as he could.
Mr. Pencewaite had taken too many courses in counseling to get into an argument with Zack. He didn't even openly acknowledge the clash of ideas. He just slid over to his first back-up plan. He'd been wondering, he said, if there wasn't some way in which Zack's concern, and his real vision in these things, couldn't be communicated more widely in the company and the community. "Just for example," he said, looking up at the ceiling for inspiration, "maybe the cafeteria could start serving a No-Meat Special. Good nourishing food, but no meat. It would be low-cost, too, and if people wanted to contribute the money they saved then I'm sure the company would take care of passing it along to a UN agency for world relief."
He went on to explain that of course they would want Zack's advice and leadership in setting up any program like this and in getting it across to all levels in the company.
"Or I'm sure I could get you on the program for one of the Rotary Club meetings," he went on. "That would give you a real opening into the whole business and professional community around here. With your enthusiasm and your presentation there's no telling how big this thing could get. I wouldn't be surprised to see the Mayor get City Hall behind some sort of consciousness-raising projects across this whole city. And of course all of us want to have you in on it all the way because of the thought you've given to these things and your real concern for what's happening."
Mr. Pencewaite went on in that way for a while, and Zack said that well, sure, he'd be glad to help in any of those things if Mr. Pencewaite thought they would do any good. But inside he couldn't get up any enthusiasm for what was being suggested as his part in them. He really wasn't much of a public relations type and he didn't know anything special about how you organized a citywide project of this sort, and he couldn't see how he could give the Mayor any worthwhile advice about that.
Mr. Pencewaite could sense that lack of enthusiasm, too. He judged that even if he did get Zack involved in some such project it wouldn't put an end to the primary thing he was doing. So he sort of tapered off, and they left what the next step would be, rather vague, and Zack went back to his desk.
As soon as Zack left his office, Mr. Pencewaite picked up the phone and called Zack's pastor. The Rev. Frank Westman appreciated Mr. Pencewaite's call. He explained that he had a fairly large congregation and naturally he couldn't know what was happening to every member all the time. Since Zack was a bachelor and lived alone, there was probably no one to notice something like this quickly. But it did sound serious, and he would try to talk to Zack soon.

Hey, Serial for You

Longtime readers of my series of tubeslog probably know the lyrics to more than one Monty Python song but may also know that my regard for email forwards and classics of Christian coffee mug or poster devotion is low.

I don't know where the following falls in relation to those. It is the type of thing that was passed around from Christian to Christian, from one community to another through networks of connection, but its content seems more edifying than a picture of MY PRESIDENT praying or a story about JPL scientists needing to account for a lost day to get a satellite into the proper orbit that you will pass on to ten other people if you love Jesus. It's relation to facts is just as tenuous but it may still ring true. You will decide I suppose.

Anyway, it's an old text that a student shared with me last year. It's from an Inter Varsity booklet titled The Salvation of Zachary Baumkleterrer. I've taken editorial license here, updating some of the language so it's less late-sixties, and have broken it up to post it in chapters of sorts. I'll post it in parts over the next few days. Of course, an eager reader could find it elsewhere on their own- If you do, don't ruin it for the rest of us.

Here it is:
The Salvation of Zachary Baumkleterrer
by George Mavrodes

Maybe Zack should have said more about what he had decided to do, right at the beginning, and especially to the people at the office. Sometimes he thought so himself. But he was really a shy sort of person, not much at ease in talking about himself. So he said nothing about it (except when he prayed, of course) until people started asking him. I guess the first thing they noticed was that he stopped bringing his lunch, buying soup and coffee in the cafeteria, and eating with the bunch at the corner table. But no one thought much of it, because some of the people often went out for lunch. And when they realized he wasn't eating lunch at all, some of them thought that he was just trying to lose a little weight. But it was odd, because he didn't seem to be what you could call fat at all. And it soon became clear that he was getting really thin, and his face looked a little pinched.
About the same time Louise Trimble, who handled the south-western accounts, noticed something else. On a woman she would have noticed right away, in three or four days at most, probably in two. But it's harder with a man, and especially with Zack, who always wore rather conservative, unobtrusive clothes. But one Monday, Louise had a funny feeling about how Zack looked. She looked at him carefully, and she looked at him carefully again on Tuesday and Wednesday. By Friday she was quite sure of it. Zack had worn exactly the same trousers, jacket, shirt, and tie all week. It wasn't as if they weren't clean - they were, but still it was odd, wasn't it? For she distinctly remembered that Zack used to wear a reasonable variety of clothes. She mentioned it to a couple of the other women, and they said Yes, now that she mentioned it, they thought he had worn the same clothes all week, and all of last week too, they guessed, and maybe the week before that. But he hadn't always done it. And later on one of the women mentioned it to her boyfriend in the accounting section. And so a thin trickle of talk started going through the corridors on the sixth floor, talk about Zachary Baumkletterer.
It's a little awkward to ask someone why he wears the same clothes all the time. Kids might do it, but grownups are maybe more polite. I guess it's easier to remark casually that you look a little thin, maybe you've been losing a little weight, have you? Anyway, that's how Tom Houston finally broached the subject to Zack, in the sixth floor men's room. And Zack said yes, he had lost some weight. As he said it he tightened up a little, because he really didn't like to talk about himself. But there wasn't anything in the whole affair that he was ashamed of either, and he thought he'd probably have to explain it sooner or later anyway. So, since he got along pretty well with Tom, he added, "It's because of the famine." That obviously made it as clear to Tom as if Zack had said it was because of the theory of relativity. So he went on to explain that there was a shortage of food in many parts of the world, a real famine, and that people were starving, actually starving to death in Bangladesh, in the Sahel of Africa, and in some other places. And Tom broke in to say that he knew all that, he could read the newspapers and the magazines, but there wasn't a famine here, for Pete's sake, was there? (He really did say for Pete's sake, he knew that Zack was a real religious nut, so he sort of toned down his language when he was around Zack.) And Zack said No, there wasn't a famine here (though he had heard that some old people and some black people were pretty hard up.) But there was a famine in other places, and the people in those places were people just as much as anyone around here, and so he was sending money for the relief of the famine abroad instead of spending that money on himself. And they went on and talked about it a little more until the Assistant Manager of Commercial Accounts came into the men's room, and then they broke it off and went back to their desks. But by that time Tom had a pretty good idea that the whole thing was connected with Zack's being a Christian, and he never had understood that too well. He added his new information to the trickle of talk, though, and the trickle swelled up quite a bit and seeped down to the fifth floor and the fourth floor too.

I Feel The Sky Tumbling Down, Tumbling Down

So about our earthquake yesterday... It was the first in a long time I wasn't able to just sit through and ride out. Thanks a lot, baby!

Anyway, I'm not the head of a religious empire so I am not quite sure how to go about attributing the blame for said earthquake. Things don't just happen do they? There has to be someone to blame, but I don't know exactly how to find that someone. However, there is not a problem so complex that the wiki-esque democratizing power of the internets in conjunction with oversimplified Biblical interpretation can't solve it.

So to that end, I will suggest possible reasons that God may have been judging Chino Hills with an earthquake and together, we will pick the most likely reason... I should make this a contest.

Let's see... hmmm... Oh there was the reintroduction of the plan to house mentally ill inmates at the Chino facility. That made a lot of locals angry...
Maybe...
Oh yeah, there are a lot of empty homes in the area as a result of the worsening housing market, poor economy, and mortgage scams making neighborhoods ugly and God doesn't like ugly... Well if you take a view of the world popularized by the likes of CS Lewis wherein white and beautiful equals good...
Oh! Maybe the rash of coyote attacks in Chino Hills has something to do with it. No, that sounds more like judgment than the reason for judgment...
Hey, the city council just cancelled a contract to build a fountain at the city hall. That could be something.
What else, what else?
Turning to the Bible, Isaiah suggests that in at least one instance earthquakes may be the consequence of vapid but showy worship overseen by empty-headed leaders. Sure, but Chino Hills is home to the best church in the world, so it's probably not that...

I dunno.

Anyway, feel free to leave your vote for the most likely reason for judgment, or if you have nothing to say about that-
Does anybody in the internets know how to buy other region/country's iTunes content? Failing that, can anybody in the internets explain why iTunes would allow me to search other region iTunes stores and then not allow me to buy content from that region?

Do You Say This On Your Own, Or Do Others Say This About Me?

I, as I have learned any good parent should do, presumptuously think everyone wants to see pictures of my baby. As such I sent out a birth announcement (of sorts) to my department. Of course I attached a photo. Following that, more than one person has said she is the cutest baby they have ever seen. So cute, in fact, that she couldn't possibly be my child.

Two things about that:
1.) Most everyone says that about most people's babies without realizing that only one baby in the world could actually be the cutest baby they have ever seen. That's just the way the superlative form of an adjective works. So I understand that other people's comments about the cuteness of a baby, even my baby, must be understood in light of our general misuse of language.
2.) I think she is the cutest baby I have ever seen but also realize that personal commitment and passion color truth.

That said, a coworker of mine, apropos only to my sending out the email birth announcement, told me he thought of my baby while on his way to work one morning because of mention of a Beautiful Baby Contest on the radio. Well actually, it's on the internets but conducted by a radio station so he heard about it on the radio.

How's that for an unsolicited compliment, or better, window into THE TRUTH?

So I entered The Lovely Elizabeth into a baby contest. This is the picture I used.

It really is the greatest use of photographic technology ever.

Anybody that wanted to vote for her could. You would see she is contestant 46 in the D-F category. You would also see that Dylan is the new David.*

What could be more true than the results of a series of tubes contest judged by Tori Spelling and people who listen to Soft Adult Contemporary pop or respond to email forwards from family members telling them to vote for their baby?**

* That's just for the Ds. Overall, Jacob is actually the new Michael.
** That's just begging for a Venn diagram.

Honey's Is People, It's People

Yesterday, we were convinced to go to Honey's for lunch. If you don't know, Honey's is a "family-style" restaurant in Glendora. By family style I mean of course, it's serves the nondescript, golden brown, institutional pile of carbohydrates that is at least acceptable to, if not enjoyed by, everyone in your family. Generally, you wouldn't go to a place like Honey's for the food, unless, of course, your palette is coated with an impenetrable film of trans-fat residue so everything tastes like a deep fryer to you anyway; you go there because no one will say it's "too spicy", "too exotic", "too red", "too weird", "too 'anything'". It is our bland future food, but rather than served as a pill or Soylent wafer, it is measured out by the bucketful and served in portions as big as your head.

Anyway, it was a strange experience. If you were to knock me out and then revive me in Honey's in Glendora, telling me I'd been unconscious for days, you could easily convince me that we had travelled somewhere people readily know what Cracker Barrel or Bob Evans are. It was definitely of a different Glendora than the one that singlehandedly could keep Skin Industries in business. More Buick than Hummer. More JC Penney than Bebe. More Mrs. Stewart's Bluing than Botox. More plastic prosthetic than silicone implant.

You could say Honey's represents a better, more innocent and wholesome way of life. I wouldn't, but you could. I'm simply intrigued that the difference it is thrives where it does.

Blockin' Out The Scenery Blowin' My Mind

-Hey, do you want to come with us down to-
-Oh I can't now. I have to finish this sign.
STOP PITZ NOW
Did you know the game of pitz was played with an 8 pound ball that would cause extensive bruising that was then used in bloodletting and sacrificial rites?
-Pitz?
-Yeah, pitz. It was the game the Mayans played. The ball was so big and heavy that players would get these gigantic bruises, then they would let the blood out of those bruises for their gods.
-Yeesh
-I know. And then sometimes the captains of the losing team, or sometimes the whole team would have their heads chopped off as a sacrifice to their gods.
-That's a pretty good incentive to win. So do y-
-Oh but they couldn't win. Those losses were generally staged, they were part of a big ritual. The field of play was actually a gateway to the world of their gods, so the whole thing wasn't just a game but a big idolatrous festival. Even when it was played recreationally, which was generally more of a one on one type game, it had those mythical implications.
-That's cool. Anyway, I wa-
-Cool? It's awful- human sacrifices to pagan god's? That's the worst thing there could be.
-No- Right- I just mean, it's cool that you know so much about it.
-Yeah. So you agree?
-With what?
-That it's awful?
-Sure, it sounds pretty awful.
-So what are we going to do about it?
-What do you mean?
-I mean that is a terrible, awful, awful thing, so we need to make sure we stop it.
-Stop what?
-Pitz!
-Pitz?
-Yes
-Do we even know anybody that plays pitz?
-The Classical Mayans
-Classical Mayans?
-Yeah, you know, the Pre-Colombian Meso-American people, them.
-Well... who's playing it now?
-No one, well maybe some indigenous people in the Yucatan or Guatemala, but it's not really the same game and no one gets their head chopped off. Anyway that doesn't matter 'cos I'm talking about actual pitz. We're have to stop that.
-Pitz? You just said no one plays pitz.
-No, I said the Classical Mayans.
- ...
-Anyway, pitz is wrong.

Fear Not; You Are of More Value Than Many Sparrows

My dogs and I were being unduly attacked by mocking birds as they chased a ball around the yard yesterday, and while it's fun to see mocking birds attack my dogs (my actual dogs, not my homies, that should've been clear though since I didn't write "my dawgs"), it's not fun to see them unduly attack my dogs. It seems too stressful for the birds and my dogs. And when I become a target, then forget it, the little bit of front yard Wild Kingdom is over.

Eventually, I learned why the mocking birds were so upset.

Their chick was on the ground instead of up in a tree. Long story short, I did enough to satisfy my standard of reasonableness (which, face it, for any of us, it is never enough to satisfy the actual needs of the world) but my conscience is another story. That is, I took care of the mockingbird chick as well as I could considering the circumstances.

So it occurs to me to ask, could a conscience worth the word be satiable?

But Screw Mocking Birds, They're Jerks, Right?
Kind of Blue- Miles Davis

That's A Lot To Load on a Baby

I once showed up at a Yearly Meeting meeting in a sport coat. I don't remember why. I wouldn't generally do that so there must have been some reason I was already wearing a sport coat or was going to need one later. I probably would not even remember that I wore a sport coat on that occasion except that someone older and more ministerially invested than I am said I was alienating people by wearing a sport coat. His take was that anyone interested in getting people into churches should notice and follow the cue that nobody in our culture wore sport coats or suits anymore.

He might be right. I hear someone in our Yearly Meeting/Annual Conference is doing some kind of Glamis or Dirt Bike church. On Sundays, he's going to meet with people who have opted to go dirt-biking for the weekend and then read the Bible and sing with them for a couple of hours.

I guess.

I suppose, it might look weird to show up to a place like that in a sport coat. The kind of weird monks probably seemed wearing habits, or the weird Quakers seemed wearing gray and dressed without ruffles. M'eh.

I suppose you can't argue with results. Here I am showing up to places in a sport coat, and there my accuser is, well-suited for ministry in our Yearly Meeting.

Nobody wears sport coats indeed.

Every now and then... well actually more often than "now and then" suggests...

So...

Quite frequently I hear about the need for THE CHURCH to be authentic and relevant. I mostly see that is meant in a Church Growth© way and not necessarily in a so the Kingdom of God is seen kind of way. How it manifests itself is in goatees, Hawaiian shirts as dressy, saying dude, kids who look and act like most everybody else but have NOTW branded somewhere on their person... I think it also makes us think we need to incorporate more images, the word "dude", faux-hawks, and flat screens... lots and lots of flat screens into our weekly concerts/affirmations. What's more relevant than that stuff?

The Lovely Elizabeth, like all babies, is as smart as they come. I don't mean she knows how to use a toilet or can make her hands do what she wants them to do. I don't even think she knows she can know it's possible to want at this point. So when I say smart I mean her world is infinite human possibility. She has the capacity to absorb and integrate herself into any mode of human existence that we know or can imagine. That's smart.

It's my job to narrow that. I will teach her that X is in a set with Y but not a part of the set that includes 1 and 2, and that's different from the set of µ and ∆. I'll help set for her the frames of reference and categorization through which she will understand the world. My narrow world. It's my duty to shrink the horizon of her concerns and interests so that she may be well adjusted to one manner of being. It's my job to pass on my pettiness and sinful tendencies. My idols will become her idols so that for her- much of sin will merely be the way "it" is. If I do my job, I will have passed on the ability to overlook the worst of sins- that which justifies our way of being as the way of being.

When we talk about relevance or authenticity I don't think we want to mean we need to get at that but I suspect that's the very think we need to address if a church is really going to be relevant and authentic. I don't think we want to get at that because the very best idols are those to which we are the most loyal, those that offer the most security and comfort, those that let us skirt around the despair that blankets human existence.*

I'm sure at some point she'll lie. She'll steal. At some point she'll feel the pangs of guilt at hurting someone. We've got a world that understands sin as such and have great ways to alleviate that guilt. But there will be no need to feel guilty for participating in the world as it is- no need to recognize any of that as sin.

Unless the Holy Spirit does its** job. I'm looking forward to that. If it wasn't for that anticipation and action I don't know how that despair could be overcome... Well other than by embracing blissful ignorance or remaining in happy denial I wouldn't know how to do it. But it is there, and as I look at my daughter, the person that I call my daughter but know must be her own person, I am filled with a word I don't know in English. I have that waiting, expectant hope that is esperar.

Thank God.

* I'm really much more fun than this suggests.
** The Holy Spirit is an "it". Deal with it.

We'll Get Together Then Son, You Know We'll Have a Good Time Then

My poor, poor neglected series-of-tubeslog. Faithfully waiting as I attend to other things. Well I'm back. To a degree. So first things first.

Last you heard a baby came along and a winner of the Name My Baby Contest was to be announced.

Well here's what you've been waiting for...

Commenter Jeremy has won with the recommendation "Irena". Not only does he win the "Name I Like" portion of the contest, but he wins the "Name We Choose" portion (at least a variation of it). Who would've guessed The Qweenbean and I were pathetic enough to name our baby with an internets contest? At least Jeremy.

In any case, as winner of the big prize he will receive the book More Handles of Power by Lewis Dunnington. It's a Mid-Century Methodist devotional text along the lines of our present day Chicken Soup for the Souls or the various Prayer of Jabezes floating around. I don't mean it is or was that crappy, I mean it is along those lines in its purpose and popularity.

It's fascinating.

It's of a different evangelical stream than that which fed the creation of radio Bible hours, kooky millennialism, or white supremacy associations but of a similar source, so because of that, to me, an interesting artifact. I think the stream/running-water metaphor is apt because as thought and practices flowed to the South and Mid-West, as examples, they took on unique characteristics and fed different types of fruit. For example, it's not something we care to admit, but the Strange Fruit that hung from Indiana trees was borne by Evangelical Holiness. This book is of a stream that eventually flowed North and East, though pooling in other places as well, and as such is of the traditional forebears of evangelical thought and practices expressed in the likes of Sojourners and The Progressive Christian.

It's also fascinating to me because it is full of the kinds of things that actual Christians used as guidance for their day to day lives- just like Chicken Soup for The Soul and the Prayer of Jabez. This book is the kind of thing that fed the devotional lives of people who generally could not care less about theology and biblical studies- or more appropriately for whom this passes as theology and biblical study. Though preachers and teachers may consult scholarly sources and critically examine our assumptions about the nature of truth and work to apply that to our lives as people of faith, a mnemonic like "Adam and Eve, Not Adam and Steve" or all manner of widely circulated pablum hold more sway over our lives than even the collected works of... I dunno, which pop-theologian is hot among evangelicals these days? They hold more sway than that guy. Of course I may be assuming too much if I imagine the average preacher engages in a level of critical thought and investigation more astute than the average congregant. In any case, my point is these kinds of texts are fascinating to me because they are a phenomenon that, in the good and bad, represent how people think, what is important to them, and what passes as a life of faith. (I mean that in a good way... mostly.)

It's on its way to you, Winner Jeremy. I hope you think it is as great as I do.

To the rest of you, I hope the taste of defeat burns in your mouth like ashes and vinegar so that only future victory can cleanse your palate.

A Millstone About My Neck

Our baby came with a bunch of free stuff. Free in that, I didn't have to pull out a wallet and pay for anything with paper or plastic at a specific point though there were costs associated.

One of the costly freebies was Parenting Magazine. Costly because it forces me to confront some of the assumptions I had about parenting. It's called Parenting but it's clearly not for me. It's not for me because I am a dad, and if this magazine is to be believed, mom's are parents and dad's are only some sort of secondary relation to a child. Dad's are conspicuously absent.

Mostly.

There is, along with the Letters to Parenting, a section called Hot Dads wherein photos of nominees are posted along with the details that explain why they're hot.

I intuitively find this repugnant and want to set the magazine on fire, but I should be careful. My parenting can be bad for The Lovely Elizabeth. According to other literature, if I encourage her to participate in athletics or to outperform The Boys in various efforts, it will cause gender identity confusion for her and force The Qweenbean to reject her, thereby encouraging The Lovely Elizabeth to seek the approval and affection of other women in the form of homosexual relationships. I thought encouraging her in athletics and outperforming boys were things I would want to do. Idiot dad that I am.

In that sense, Parenting may be just what the doctor ordered. I ought to remove myself from her life in such a way that she will be more concerned with replacing an absent father and seeking affection and approval with men that are only too happy to prey on the self-hating persona I helped create.

Cool, thanks, Parenting Magazine.

Sin Boldly

Working on my syllabus this morning I ended up with a preachy bee in my bonnet.

This was the buzz...
Can we as Christians say we proclaim the God of love if we cooperate with and legitimize institutional systems that by their very nature dominate and destroy?

Gee, that's a stupid question. Of course we can. We do it all the time, and it's not even a matter of of being duplicitous or hypocritical.*

Although it's an important question, it assumes one is willing to see their world as a part of that destructive machine. And who wants to do that?

A step must be made before that question can make sense. It's a step that requires the Word of God confronting us intensely in our humanness. The institutional systems of the above question are the perfect idols. They are a kind of perfect sin in that they can remain unexamined because they are often the very foundations of our world. In that they must be confronted, but in that, it's so easy to see them as separate from what we conventionally call sin. If we address them at all, they are often merely the unfortunate exigencies of our fallen world. It's the way it is may mean that these things are morally neutral or, if morally problematic, they are morally problematic in our favor.

In my metaphysical kookiness I say the Spirit confronts us concerning sin, but it's not the confrontation of asking what is correct; is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath or not?

If it is found with that question, it is in the silence of our response.

* Just blinded by the spirit of anti-christ.

Talk Baby Girl Baby Thinking Baby Walk

Here she is. I'm not going to put her real name into the series of tubes but I will say we have a winner in my Baby Naming Contest. You will be announced and notified shortly.

What Are You Kidding? We Got a Family Here!

Longtime readers of my intertubes journal may be willfully bringing harm to their souls but may also note that I have been uncharacteristically silent of late. It's because finally, the Qweenbean can be saved.

After planning and throwing a 4th of July Picnic/Chili Cook-off, The Qweenbean gave birth to our baby. That ought to go on a resúmé. It's pretty impressive. I mean, after just helping to pull that stuff together, all I wanted to do was sit around with friends and watch a movie. In fact, that's what we were doing before our baby was born. So she's here, and while I'd hate to seem obsessed or overly doting, I should say she's pretty much the greatest thing ever. I know everyone says that about their kids, but I would bet that when I say it, it's really true. She's the best there is. Of course knowing me, I'm just writing that as a demonstration of the nature of things that we say are true. Or maybe I really do mean it. Or maybe it's both.

In any case, we are only just adjusting to this new world into which it seems three (at least) rather than one was born, hence a dearth of blog posts or other contact with the outside world. Even this one will have to be quick, so on to what's important: The Qweenbean being saved.

Of course, you know what I'm talking about- well if you're a Christian that doesn't just pretend to believe the Bible you know what I'm talking about.

I'm talking about Paul's inerrant declaration that women will be saved through childbirth.

I know, I know, it's possible to read that 1 Timothy passage other ways, as saying women will be saved through childbirth, as in women need not be overcome by the process, but in fact will endure safely through it, as an example. But that would be willfully ignoring the broader testimony of scripture that sees the pain of childbirth as a curse and the presence of children as evidence of God's favor. I guess it's also possible to say we really don't know what that bit o' Bible is talking about or that it doesn't relate to our present experience, even as people of faith, but any of that may lead us down roads that we've not already travelled. And if it's a road we've not already travelled how would we know it's a road we can travel?

Blow It Up

I'm sure this has nothing do with anything, but if the "We the People" of the Constitution was written specifically to exclude people like me, the browns, and people like The Qweenbean, ladies, by what right does it include us now?

Why and how would we say that that sense of "we" has changed?

I think it's appropriate that, where it's allowed, we celebrate the birth of a nation by blowing up or setting little bits of it on fire.

That's all.

We're Not Actually Saying This is
the Earth Calling You

I was trying to teach Me Love You about jokes yesterday. He's reached an age when he finds it necessary to experiment with creating his own jokes, only he's not telling jokes. Not even riddles. They're nonsense and though nonsense may sometimes be used to make a joke a joke- he's not reached that stage of the craft. I think jokes are an incredibly important part of language, thought, interaction, being human. It's fine to be eight years old and not quite understand how to craft a joke. Mostly fine. But he has to be drawn through this.

Here's why I'm a jerk. I won't laugh at a kid's joke if it isn't funny. I ask why it's a joke. I'll say I don't get it and ask it to be explained. Of course the threshold for what counts as a kid's joke is very low, but I say there is a threshold.

-Why was the fork afraid of the spoon?
-Why?
-Because it was twisted around it.
-I don't get it. Why is that funny?
-Look at the picture there, see the spoon is wrapped around the fork.

It's not funny. That's the same bit as those Meet the Spartans writers use. It's pointing at something you both see. Maybe it will make millions of dollars but it's not funny. It should be corrected.

-Knock knock.
-Who's there?
-Hoo
-"Hoo" who?
-Sorry I don't talk to owls.

That is funny.

But that explaining...

If you don't "get" a joke it can be explained but that doesn't do what is necessary for you to get the joke. You may be able to describe the structure, so to speak, the culture of a joke, why it can be what it is, but that is not the same as getting the joke. A joke necessarily takes advantage of cues and references that are part of a culture so though we may be able to say why it could be funny, or even, once we know the cues say, "Hey that is funny," we're still not a part of the people that get the joke. Are we?

-So a real cultured guy bought a pair of pants but they were so tight he couldn't get them on, so he shaved his legs.
-Uh, that's not funny.
-Oh... well see only barbarians wear pants.
- ...
-I mean in antiquity, only barbarians wore pants, but then it started to become fashionable to emulate barbarians and wear pants.
-Okay?
-And it was kinda' like what we do with cowboys- it's an affected masculinity so for him to wear pants is to be all, "Here comes John Wayne 'I'm not gonna cry about my pa, I'm gonna buy an airport and put my name on it,'" but then he gets rid of his leg hair... which is girly so he's, I don't know, not all manly like a hairy pants-wearing barbarian.
-Oh... okay. Try it again
-So a real cultured guy bought a pair of pants but they were so tight he couldn't get them on, so he shaved his legs.
-Okay, okay, yeah, I could see myself laughing at that. Yeah, okay, that is funny. Maybe next time though, make it about a middle aged divorced guy who wants to reclaim the virility of his youth and attract girls so he gets a big black Harley and because he doesn't feel manly enough with just the bike, he gets himself some leather chaps and all that but then he's not attracting girls if you know what I mean. That's funny. Say it that way next time.
-But that's not my joke.
-Eh well, it's funnier this way.

Mind The Tags
Jupiter, The Bringer of Jollity- Holst
Tuesday's Dead- Cat Stevens
36-24-36- Violent Femmes
Beautiful- Smashing Pumpkins
Extra Savoir-Faire-They Might Be Giants
Levitate Me- The Pixies
Brand New Cadillac- The Clash

Atheists are Magic

Among e/Evangelicals a good deal of weight is given to people who go from atheism to some form of theism. Especially if part of their story involves being a super-atheist as in, "I thought people who believed in God were dumb and I did everything to discredit religion, but in my investigations I came to see I could no longer deny there is a God." So they come to a point where they believe in God, and because they're real smart, they show we ought to believe in God too. Okay. I get that. There is a use to their certainty. I guess if I'm interested in a concept of God that is sufficiently comprehensible their work at describing God that way should make me feel better. I don't know why it follows that the God known in Christianity would follow from that, (so that these types are superstars in Christian apologetics is a bit problematic to me... apologetics is a bit problematic to me, so... whatever, I guess) but I do understand the desire to be in good company, the desire to not look foolish, the need to have what we believe be affirmed by others, the need to know that what we believe is rooted in more than belief.

Almost as a rule, their atheism is of the type that asked, "How could a loving God do such and such that seems contrary to that identity?" or "How could an all powerful God not intervene in something I don't like." That doesn't seem like atheism to me. It seems more like misotheism or antitheism or like being one who contends with God. Atheism would seem to preclude those kinds of questions. I mean, I'm an atheist when it comes to Thor, Zeus, Quetzacuatl, or Anubis. Who else? I don't know. But again, whatever. Maybe asking those questions really does make one an atheist, in which case I find it strange that I ask those questions and don't consider myself an atheist. Something there's got to give.

What I find problematic with this, and it's there with Creation Science © or even Aquinas' proofs, bearing weight is that we, if I may say "we," think that this concept of god (now proved...which is silly) must be The God everyone knows rather than the product of its own culture or narrative that is distinct from who we are as a people of a particular faith. The fact that we do not make that distinction, that the proved concept of god is the same as a named god described in a Christian's reading of the Bible, is how our loyalties are revealed.

I'm sure we're not outright saying we pledge loyalty or believe in The God of Late Western Capitalism. We say we just believe in God and if the ways by which we understand the world, the culture in which knowledge is validated as knowledge- Late Western Capitalism- says this is the idea of God that is proved, well, it must be our God since there is only one God. Right? All truth is God's truth, as we say. There's no need to examine ourselves or confront the ways we know God because it's how we know God and if we challenged that we would be challenging the way we say we know God and who wants to do that?

But back to the e/Evangelical Magi. I have nothing against someone like Lee Strobel or Antony Flew (their names just happened across my desk) explaining why they cannot be atheists. And I think it's a good thing to share devotional experiences. But I find no value in expressing devotion to the uncertainty of atheism (perhaps positively stated as Apologetics). (Plus, there's probably no net gain- it's maybe even a loss- if we're doing body counts for the "atheist to theist" versus "theist to atheist" game.) And if there is some "we" concerned with being the church- a people confronted and called out by God- we ought to be careful to see that the concept of god built by our knowledge does not seem like the kind of thing that would want to lead us to being that people (as if it could want). Rather it would be completely invested (as if it could invest) in our buying into the system that builds and maintains that concept of The God.

Small Victories

I think sometimes we... I'm trying to be honest here... I think sometimes I spend too much time thinking about the big picture or problems that really don't matter to us.

You may have noticed I tend to harp on issues of violence and ecclesial integrity but were I really concerned about eliminating frustration or anger from my life I would be more concerned with things closer to home. So I confess perhaps I only feign outrage as a matter of show or self-indulgence and in that lose sight of what really matters to us.

This morning we have the opportunity to realize we are blessed with a small victory. After the brief period of increased accidents caused by dummies trying to learn to use their new handsfree phone attachments, we will enter a new age of driving. No more will we be stuck behind someone going 10-20 miles per hour less than they should. People will respond more quickly to changing traffic lights. No more last minute decisions, recoveries, or overcorrections. Today, in California, we have the opportunity to see, in real life, the kind of difference our collective action can make. Even if something is unpopular and requires a little bit of effort, this is the kind of thing that can be done.

I mean, all my griping about violence- who cares am I right? It's not like I have to go kill anyone. And ecclesial integrity? Like that even means anything?

This truly is a golden age.

Name My Baby

Long time readers of my worldwide weblog are spending the best years of their lives in front of a computer but may also remember that The Qweenbean and I are having a baby. Any day now, the creature inside will make her way out.

Our waiting to be born baby's first name is Elizabeth. That's been decided for a while, but we are unable to settle on a middle name. We thought we'd picked Cristina but recently realized neither of us are as committed to it as we initially thought. So now we're back to not having a middle name for her. There are plenty of names we each like, names that have good meanings associated with them, but we are missing names we both like. It's not necessary that she have a middle name, though we both want her to have one. But more importantly, we want it to be a name that we both really enjoy, if the baby doesnlike it, big deal. What's she going to do, cry about it?

So as it is with so many other areas of life, I will turn to the internets for resolution.

It's come to this: a baby naming contest.

You dear reader will have the opportunity to middle name my baby. Of course, like the very act of reading this blog, in naming my baby there is the possibility of a great reward for those who participate well.

There are two ways to play and three ways to win! I don't know how to write that with the inflection it deserves.

First, you can attach yourself to one of the names that is already in the running. If we pick that name, you win. The deal with that is, you can only tie yourself to one name, though any number of people can choose the same name.

The second way to play is by recommending a name. If I like it, you win. This doesn't mean we have to give the baby that name. This only requires that I like the name.

The third way to win is by suggesting a name that I not only like, but we pick as the baby's middle name.

I suppose you should know:
Name meanings are important to me. We both like the name Natalie but I refuse to give in to naming a July baby Natalie. Maybe that says, name meanings are important and I'm a jerk.
Tougher for you to discern, people and history attached to names also matter. We both like the name Sarah but I dated too many girls named Sarah.
But don't let any of that discourage you, I give fantastic prizes and you really have nothing to lose... well maybe dignity, if you suggest a really stupid name.

These are the names in the running:
Ann
Cristina
Frances
James
Joy
Julianne
Lorena
Mae
Margaret

So make your offering to Nike, pick a name, leave your selection or recommendation in a comment, and don't suck. Winners will be notified when the baby is named and recieve their prizes in the mail.

No Quarter

I learned at lunch yesterday that yet another young mother killed her baby soon after birth. Yes, that's what we're talking about at lunch after church. Great isn't it?

The Qweenbean said I need to pick lighter conversation fare. First of all, no. Secondofly I didn't pick the fare, the fare was thrust upon me.

In any case, the conversation turned to whether the young killer should be tried as an adult. The conversation went that way, because we've been asked to take it that way and I am, often enough, an obedient little cog.

If you don't care to know these things stop reading. If you need to be told that... I don't know what to say about that.

So back in April, a little girl in Texas gave birth to a baby at school, crammed its mouth with paper and drowned it in the toilet before being discovered. Like I said, that was back in April. I hadn't heard about it. I also would likely not have heard about the discussion to try her as an adult had it not come up yesterday. But now it has and of course, being the loudmouth I am, I have to write something about it and expose you to it in the process.

I'm not sure if the attempt to declare her an adult is officially intended to send a strong message to other eighth graders thinking about drowning their infants or more as an optimistic (Texas, remember) attempt to bypass the prohibition on executing minors. I tend to think it's for another purpose all together.

I suppose when we treat, or here try a child like an adult it's because we want to indicate the gravity of the situation and demonstrate that we expect someone will be held to account and by that we often mean treated in kind. This is a pretty horrible thing and the reptile in me wants some type of revenge. Not correction or justice. Revenge. And if revenge has to be targeted, what's easier to target than the girl responsible for it all? And what better way to demonstrate we say she is responsible than to declare her legally able to bear the responsibility for this act and punish her accordingly? I suppose I'm assuming others would think like me.

But maybe it's not about revenge at all.

Imagine how many adults- the people that are supposed to know better, the people that are supposed to be responsible- had to drop the ball for this to have happened. Imagine what it would take for an eighth grade girl to deliver a baby at school. Imagine what things must be like for her to have gotten pregnant at 13. Imagine what conditions must exist for a 13 year old to be having sex. Of course she made her own choices- it feels like I have to write that- but the range of possible choices were laid before her by others. The world that was possible for her was crafted by adults. So in a way, considering her actions it is fitting that adults would now be debating if she has done enough to warrant entry into their world.

As Ann as the Nose on Plain's Face

A dummy once told me that there are three ways we can be- we as America. First, we could lose this war of civilizations to Islam. Second we could be overly influenced by decadent atheistic Europe. Or third, we could be strong Christian America. It was kind of boiler plate for him to say those things.

He once wrote an article that was very popular saying much the same thing. And now magically, that article is not available on the internets, well not on his archived articles internets.

Okay.

Watching the opening ceremony to the Euro final told me three things:
1. The godless don't appreciate flash. I mean, helium balloons and orchestral anthems when you can use fighter jets and R&B caterwauling.? It's probably because they have no God so are easily impressed whereas knowing such a big impressive God, we require much more to be amazed.
2. They're not doing decadence correctly. Their dancing girls are fully dressed for God's sake. Even their "cheerleaders" have their bellies covered.
3. They're better than us. It's a good thing God is on our side.

It's a Fact: The Majority of Americans Love a War When One is Proposed

Save Your Breath for The Hippies

So I'm watching John McCain speak to a NALEO gathering this morning (that's right- I'm a nerd) and just as he's about to say even undocumented Latin@s are his brothers and sisters, some yahoo holding a sign that reads "McCain=Guerra" gets up and yells, "Your silence is consent to war crimes!" en inglés y español.

Really? Consent? C'mon, that's a bit outrageous isn't it? Consent requires some sort of active assent or approval. Maybe my silence says "I just don't care." Isn't that possible? Maybe my silence is apathy to war crimes.

If someone's going to interrupt a televised event, a live televised event, I should add, shouldn't they make sure their accusations are accurate? And if I don't care, then why bother saying anything to me? I don't care, so your saying anything just makes you look foolish. It would be like you exerting energy to tell me TBS is running a 12 hour marathon of the Bill Engvall Show this weekend? It means nothing to me.

Or maybe my silence is contentment. Maybe the issue of whether we as a nation have committed war crimes would require some type of research and discernment on my part, and probably some discomfort too. None of that sounds like something I'd like to bear, especially if I'm presently happy and comfortable. So my silence is really just an expression of inertia. So you're attempt to accuse me of something really just demonstrates that you're a jerk. My goodness, why would you want to make someone unhappy?

It's very presumptuous to assume you know why I am silent in the face of war crimes.

Then Who Can Be Saved?

So The Qweenbean and I somehow ended up on new mailing lists and are now receiving junk mail from groups that clearly have no idea who we are.

One of these bits of propaganda is full of housewares that we could not afford financially or morally. Take a look at this:
It's the Kohler Purist Hatbox Commode. It's $3,000 (I'm including tax, though I figure if you can afford this, you can also afford a way to avoid paying the tax). You put poop in it. Phew, I almost used a bad word there.*

I saw it in the EXPO catalogue that came in the mail yesterday. The rest of the catalogue is full of all kinds of things that I find offensive, but it barely scratches the surface of the kind of world that exists in which this is a good thing.

When I used to remodel rich people's houses I learned there was not only a huge chasm between me and rich people, but also a difference between having a lot of money and being wealthy. Rich people have a lot of money. Sure. A rich person may buy this toilet. Rich people buy lots of things you or I, as not rich people, can look at and see as marks of their richness. But wealthy people are more. In one sense, wealthy people live in a world where it's unnecessary to display the marks of their riches because there's no need to differentiate from those without. It is not about contrast because they/we create the standard for what is. Does that make sense? I mean wealthy people have more than money. They have the power that wealth is; the power to create a world in which we say it is fine to buy this toilet if one can afford it. If one has earned the money to pay for it, it is their right to use the money as they see fit. There is no burden on them to justify this type of life because that is life. It is the kind of life that says it is possible to earn this type of money. It is possible to deserve this and it would be wrong for anyone to try to stop you.

I don't think poor people are more wholesome than rich or wealthy people. If we think there is somehow a greater level of decency or kindness among THE POOR, perhaps we ought to re-examine ourselves and be sure we are not romanticizing evil- especially if that romanticization allows us to be comfortable with the way things are. Poor people are just rich people without money. And if we say God shows a preference for the poor (clearly God must- since there's so many) I don't think we say it is because the insecurity of being poor is better than the stability of having access to resources- starving is better than being fed or dying from preventable diseases is better than receiving healthcare, secure and reliable shelter is worse than living on the street. When we read of prophets in the Old Testament offering woes to those who are comfortable, when we read of Jesus saying we cannot serve wealth and God, do we see that as having to do with owning stuff? Do we see material goods as the problem? Are we saying we affirm the idea we exist as bodies but abhor that these bodies should be cared for? Or do we see that the challenge is against those who are comfortable because the source of their comfort is not in the things but in their ability to pervert justice, the ability to call evil good. I don't mean the error any of us may make when we act selfishly, thoughtlessly, or autonomously and say we had good intentions. I mean the ability to destroy life by writ. The ability to justify ourselves by saying discover rather than conquer, liberate rather than invade, employ rather than steal, evil is good, bitter is sweet. That's wealth.

Last night, Classic Grandpa reminded us that there are those who may steal with a gun and those who steal with a pen. That's exactly what a Classic Grandpa would say. Hippy folky. We should also see that there are those who steal and destroy and what they do we call neither stealing nor destroying.

* Tony Campolo used to do this magic trick in which he would be speaking about acts of evil in the world and then use a bit of what we call "vulgarity" and then comment on how people were probably more upset about the bit of vulgarity than they were about the acts of evil. That's funny magic.

Softly in the Background
Pet Sounds- The Beach Boys

Now, Mostly Dead is Slightly Alive, All Dead... Well, With All Dead, There's Usually Only One Thing That You Can Do

Two things happened that have me writing this post.

First, Val Thomas died and came back to life.

Second I received a veiled death threat in which a commenter suggested death is very objective.

I guess as the headline suggests (if you check the link), we're saying she woke up from whatever she was doing. Dead people don't wake up. Sleeping people wake up. So she was not dead. Still, she met the criteria for being dead, and as the article says, rigor mortis, had begun to set in when she woke up from whatever it was she was doing... or not doing for 17 hours.

The history of how we declare someone is dead, and who gets to do the declaring, reveals that it is not so clear-cut as we might think it is. It was only towards the very end of the last millennium that criteria for declaring someone dead were developed to compensate for the fact that we can restart someone's heart to get their blood circulating again or can keep them breathing even when their brain has quit.

Crazy, huh?*

If you've ever been in the presence of a dying something- not plants or bugs- I mean those hierarchically/pedagogically more familiar things like pets and people- then you know something happens when one goes from what we call living to dead. But it's a strange something. EEGs are just finer measures than needles in the eye, mirrors under the nostrils, hot irons on feet- variations on checking to see if one is still doing the things that living things do. From the information in the article, Val Thomas was clinically dead, and apparently brain dead, so as far as we know- dead.

But dead people are dead. Dead people don't wake up. Maybe something is missing from our criteria for how we declare one dead. Or maybe there was a screw up; something was misread, overlooked, or forgotten. She was given her Stygian fare too soon, and now doctors are out that and the looming malpractice settlement. Or maybe she's a zombie.

As a tangent, one of the things Haters say to debunk Jesus is the fact that people don't come back from the dead. Ironically it's also one of the points apologists raise to say, "See, Jesus must be someone great, because he did come back from the dead and lots of people believe he did to the point they are willing to die for that belief, so there." Just so we don't do anything dumb with this- miracles, by virtue of being miraculous are not like anything else that can be explained. We probably don't want to say this is anything like what we say Jesus did. Not if what we say Jesus did is meant to be miraculous anyway. Also, even if every other person on the planet believes something that is a matter of faith, even to the point that they would die for it, your own personal commitment to that belief is still no more a matter of certainty.

Anyway, for its universality, death is strange. This isn't to say death doesn't happen or that one cannot observe death. There is a lack of knowledge about death that can be overcome by further investigation into or observation of it. Finer measures and more criteria may let us state more clearly, "Val Thomas is dead." That may not make it any clearer or easier to know whether to plug people into machines or to cut out their organs to give to someone else, but we can make observations about chemical reactions causing electrical impulses in the brain, cardiovascular function, catabolic and anabolic actions and what all else I don't know. Those are the kinds of things about which we can say something. Just like, the book is on the shelf. (Guess what, I'm sitting in a room full of books.) That's the kind of thing that can be said. And if we come some day to find that there is something we were overlooking, one more thing of difference between living and dead, we can add it- if it belongs in the category. If that's what we're saying death is.

Whatever.

As for being very objective... like my problem with saying something is inherently evil, I don't know that something can be more or less objective, more or less certain if it is an experienced kind of thing. I will die, but, apart from the observations we might make about one we say is dead, it seems like the kind of thing I will know very subjectively when I am able to say, "Oh, so this is death"... But then, if I am really dead, I won't be able to say anything about it at all.

So does that mean then that no one ever experiences death? I guess so, if we say it is the end of life. Of course people die, so what I mean is death is not the kind of thing that is experienced, maybe it's the end of experience. I don't know.

* "Huh," again, pronounced here as that sound one makes when they mean "Am I right?" or "Isn't it?".

Go Through His Clothes and Look for Loose Change
Mr. Tambourine Man- Bob Dylan
The Harder they Come- Jimmy Cliff
Catching on Fire- They Might Be Giants
I Wish- Stevie Wonder
Dunque lo Son...- Rossini
Collapse- Soul Coughing
On Green Dalphin Street- Tito Puente

Thanks For Nothing, Al Gore

It may be result of believing a false memory, but I think I remember a time when pollution and polluting were bad things and being conservative meant one was interested in conserving things.

I remember Woodsy Owl commercials suggesting that if I, in fact, give a hoot, I would not pollute. If I cared, polluting was something I would not do. The implication seems that there isn't a cost benefit analysis involved, that it is not my libertarian right to dump garbage on "my" land, that polluting itself- was bad. I have the cloudiest memory of Iron Eyes Cody crying at a pile of garbage. It's not good to make people cry, piles of garbage made him cry- don't make piles of garbage. I even remember a character named ConservaCat coming to my school to teach me how I could be a conscientious energy consumer. Actually, I think I was taught how to be an annoying kid- reminding my parents to turn off lights, unplugging appliances, saving water by refusing to take a bath.

But that stuff was for kids and we all know now that what we say is good for kids is really a bunch of bologna that you have to put up with until you're an adult that gets to do whatever you want. Well, it was for kids and naive adults. This was about the same time that future next president of the US, Al Gore, held the first congressional hearings on greenhouse gas emissions and Honda came out with the CVCC engine- stupid Nobel prize winner and flash-in-the-pan Honda Motor Company. They won't be around long.

Did that stuff disappear? I know Al Gore refuses to do us all a favor and disappear, and Honda hates America so much it keeps making high quality vehicles, but that other stuff- do we still do that?

These days I don't think we can even talk about pollution because we've managed to find a way to create a controversy about the parameters or frames of reference for what pollution may be... Does that seems too conspiratorial? Are our failures on the subject really more a matter of the difficulty of finding shared values and commitments on the matter and not necessarily a consequence of decisions made by oligarchs in smoked filled rooms or whatever other fora fit the metaphorical bill? Well I guess that's really begging the question; clearly I assume we've missed some major opportunities to intentionally apply technology and resources in such a way that would have created a dramatically different present... Like anyone could even know that.

This set up is a bit misleading. I suppose I could go into how those options that were available to us some 30 years ago, if pursued, if not quelled, if leaders lead in different ways could have... Who knows? Well maybe at the very least the Ford and GM SUV plants that are being closed may have been producing something else these days- something else that needed to be produced- something else that the workers presently facing lay-offs could still be producing. There is something to realizing that the commitments and choices of today feed the "could have beens" of our future. As a post, it could go that way, and maybe it is in part about that, though I haven't clearly said what "that" is. "That" is intention and more specifically my wonder at how we could intend to participate in creating a world that I would imagine is so clearly contrary to what many would say are our interests.

I don't happen to think there is an "end" to humanity that can be universally known. Let's be specific. That is, I don't think you can translate virtue from one culture to another nor that there is the possibility of "inherent" anything in an act that makes it a matter of good or bad as itself. So to be absurd (because that's seems to be necessary when we talk about moral concerns), I would say there in nothing inherently evil about pushing an old lady in front of an oncoming bus. First of all, why would you say an act in inherently anything? Does that add anything to it for you? Isn't it rather that the act is either evil or it isn't? But why am I asking, it's me on the spot here, right? So I say there is nothing inherently evil about pushing an old lady in front of an oncoming bus. Does this mean I am going to push an old lady in front of a bus? Does it? C'mon- be serious. It means there are no acts in themselves that can be inherently anything. What would that even be? But this is a bit of a tangent- a frustratingly important tangent (frustrating because it seems that it needs to be something), my interest is in saying I don't think we can universally say "This is what you do to be a good person". I say that because virtue is not translatable across a culture's boundaries and there is not the understanding of an act that is separable from a culture. So sure, I say pushing an old lady in front of a bus is probably evil. But probably more importantly I am not going to push an old lady in front of an oncoming bus. Unless...

Anyway, I do say that morality is a matter of virtue and that we ought to be concerned with what type of people we are becoming- I am concerned with a telos of sorts. That is, we are for something. I just say you can't know that apart from a people among whom that end is known and pursued. That end is absolutely a matter of faith- It is a matter of absolute commitment to that end and that does not express itself in commitment to a prescribed list of inherently good acts or the avoidance of inherently bad acts. So say you are of a people that say "we want to be a people who love justice, seek mercy, and walk humbly with God" what do you do to be that people? What is it you do that demonstrates any of that and how is it that those things do that- in your condition?

So I am baffled. I am baffled because I think these last two paragraphs I share as a matter of background must be true yet I see how easily we separate what we do from what that makes us... even though I realize in what I wrote above that simply means we are a people largely concerned with confronting only petty and narrow complaints. And like other things that we learn, these must be fabricated as well, so we fabricate a world and people wherein our specific little gripes and grumbles reign. Of course we are most concerned with our lives- I don't mean just that, and I don't only mean to suggest that the good old value of "pursuing our self-interest magically leads to what's best for everyone else" is garbage- it is garbage, but I mean our sense of what is good or important to our existence is so petty and small-minded.

We are acting today in a way that creates what is possible in the future- that's plain; not only is there a disconnect between what we will and won't care about and the growing consequences of those cares, there are also the actual results of those actions. So, as an example, we are a people for whom enhanced interrogation, extreme rendition, and Operation Iraqi Freedom can mean something. That demonstrates who we are. Even if there is a sense of unease with those things, we would largely not know what to do make them right. In that sense, we have created a world in which they are present but wherein we also lack the knowledge or craft to address them (if we find them a problem to address). Similarly, whether we think President Jesus has done anything that requires the attention and accountability impeachment would bring says something about who we are, and how we proceed now, in that specific example, will open some possibilities and collapse others.

Perhaps those examples are too global- perhaps we are a people who don't think caring about those things requires anymore than sucking our teeth, or that even caring about those things is a distraction from what we really ought to care about. In that case does it make sense to try to have something that doesn't make sense make sense?

That's a tough one.

Victory Is In Your Hands

I don't know if your marriage has yet fallen apart because gay people are getting married. If it has thus far survived the contemporary assault on THE FAMILY, beware. There is another force acting against the family in a sort of Pincer movement that will certainly destroy it without stalwart defense. Last week the House passed the Federal Employees Paid Parental Leave Act to increase parental leave (it includes fathers- good lord, they hate families).

Thankfully, President Jesus, in order to defend families, has said he will veto it. What are you doing?

Of course, in the intro, I've assumed you are married. If you're not, all I can say to that is, "Why do you hate THE FAMILY so much?"

If You Don't Eat, You'll Die

So someone was saying to me "What we really need is a theology of the body blah blah blah..." but it seemed what they meant was "I would like to be able to take some Bible verses and apply it in a way that determines what we say we can do with bodies."

That happens a lot. You can replace the word body with just about any other word and do the same thing. Theology of life. Theology of death. Theology of work. Theology of food. As I type this out it seems like the internets naked lady/porn meme. You can search anything with naked lady and porn and find hits- I'd bet you could do the same thing with "theology". And fittingly enough, it is its own kind of porn. Self-serving, indulgent, fruitless in terms of theology. (I wasn't able to find anything good with "theology of theology"). Anyway I don't think it does what one probably hopes to do when they say they are creating a theology of [insert word here]. I also don't think that happens to be theology.

Second things first. My guess is that what one wants to do when they are creating a theology of x is to make something called theology relevant to that x. In this type of set up, theology is a set of metaphysical premises addressing a range of concerns. The purpose seems to be to make those metaphysical premises address the subject or make it seem the subject is integrated into or with those metaphysics. So the project is to make whatever x might be, "the body" in the example, fit into the metaphysical framework- especially in a way that then lets one know what ought to be done. I'm not saying we ought not engage in that project. It is what we do, it's how we get our sense of do and do not do, who's sane who's mad, who's right who's wrong, who we can eat who we can't (why I should've written "'what' we can't"), who's family who's enemy. We do that. My metaphysical commitments and concerns have me say we should do that. That's a fine project. I'm saying that project is not theology. That's the second thing first: that's not theology.

Well... maybe it's a kind of theology. Maybe an anthropocentric theology, which I would still say isn't theology. I think that sense of theology works like the word "god". It's the end of the line in what we say tells us what to do. So for some, what is meant by theology is "The last word on what we do or do not do", so because we say, "God ultimately tells us what to do", a study of what to do about something or other could be called a theology of that something or other. Of course not everyone says that it is "God" telling them what to do- but at the end of the line of justification and legitimacy you have something that functions as the final authority whatever it might be: a Dungeon Master's Guide, a motto, a volcano, a belly, gilt pages, funny hats, a goat statue, a gun... Anyway the "final" authority on something seems like the kind of thing the word god can be thrown at. That is oftentimes what we mean, or how we use the word god. God says this, God says that are other ways of saying "Do this, not that". And you must admit it's easier than:
-What are you doing?
-I'm loading the car so we can go.
-Why?
-Because we're going to grandma's.
-Why?
-What do you mean "why"? Because it's Thanksgiving and we go to grandma's for Thanksgiving.
-Why?
-Because
-Because why?
-Because I said so- Throw your pillow in and get in the car.

Whatever.

I know, I know, that leaves things hanging in mid-air. Well some things anyway. I'm not one of those who may say there is no such thing as an objective observation or proposition. But I don't think that goes to "there is 'science' and the possibility of objectivity about some things so it seems there must be the possibility of some objectivity about all things, so if I can say with objective certainty something banal like 'My shoe is on my foot' I should be able to say with objective certainty something like 'It's wrong to eat puppies' and what's more if God is anything it ought to be the kind of thing about which there is the most absolute certainty and most absolute certainty seems like it should be objectivity so if I can say I know what God says I can say it even more certainly even though there shouldn't be degrees of certainty otherwise we're not really talking about certainty. Right?"

No.

I mean science as a method is about observations, falsifiable propositions and testable theses, addressing things that are of no concern. But those things that are a matter of concern are those things that tend to be left hanging in mid air, as it were. Should you marry so and so? Should we kill children who disobey their parents? Should I consume peyote? Handle snakes? Bomb Iran? Less glibly- say you know some kid who wants- right now, in our present circumstances- to join the military because he or she is sick of living at home and wants to earn some money for college. How, and especially wether, you counsel that kid is not a matter of objectivity. Neither are the reasons that could make sense to them.

I know, as THE CHURCH especially, we're inclined to think that what we believe and do is just the way it is, as in it corresponds to an established order and someday everyone will see things exactly the same way- sometimes, conveniently enough the way we see things now. And so theology is often seen as a matter of seeing that "The Way It Is" in a moral sense. That said, I am not picking on churches here, though I am picking on that sense of THE CHURCH that imagines it can find some sense of pure or pasteurized sense of "ought" that is the way everyone over all time should be. This can be leveled at even the non-churchy; an attempt to reduce "oughts" to a matter of genetic determinism seems the same. Moral knowledge is created and known in culture and culture is a fluid thing.

Which is why I suggested previously metaphysics is/are crazy, and I think crazy is the right word to use to make the point. But that shouldn't be a problem to a church people, should it? Who better than a people called the church should be okay remaining unsettled, waiting in mid-air? Why shouldn't a people who claim to act in faith not proceed in faith? I suppose because we still remain people.

M'eh.

Anyway, I tend to think theology is about clarifying the ongoing redemptive nature of God. I have nothing to say to that that would make sense apart from a community that is living in light of that knowledge and experience. That is, the only thing that can justify that claim is the community that lives it. There is no proposition or proof set that can stand alone and in itself prove to anyone that this concept beats their concepts. I would say a responsible theology is one that is concerned with better and more clearly living this claim.

I like a description of theology that a clever student coined a semester or two ago. She said theology ought to be like crafting recipes. I liked that. I like it.

Now we could have a "theology of the body" that corresponds to this sense of theology. We could say, this is our experience of bodies that demonstrates we are a people who believe God is set on saving us from us. So, first things second now. When we say we have a theology of x in an attempt to make our claims relevant to x- it seems what we are actually doing is speaking about that x in such a way that it does not correspond to how we live with that x. We are forced to make it stand alone so that it no longer bears any resemblance to how any person would experience that x in their life. So the attempt to make it relevant makes it matter less to any existing person. So rather than redeeming, the "theology" dominates. Rather than reflecting the redemptive nature of God, it becomes a means of demonstrating the dominance of the particular concept. We make a thing out of a concept that ought not really be a thing.

It almost seems that the project of theology ought to be discarded for the sake of demonstrating a theology that reflects a redeeming God. Almost. I suppose it depends on how we say it.

So now you're maybe asking "Well then, how do we talk about something like the body in relation to what we say God is?" To which I say, "Exactly, how do we?"

Good Grief

The day of my and The Qweenbean's wedding, a lot of people asked if I was nervous. Even leading up to the wedding, people kept asking if I was having second thoughts. I wasn't. I didn't. I could say without exaggeration that it was the happiest day of my life. Up to this point anyway- I'm still holding out for a beer truck to crash in front of our house. I was nervous when asking if she would marry me. I'll spare you the details, but The Qweenbean and I weren't even speaking to each other the night I showed up at her house and asked if she wanted to be married to me. Crazy, right? I mean, why should I have been nervous- who wouldn't want to marry me- deal with my nonsense, pursue some nebulous life of ministry, poverty, my skinny legs? Big deal that she and I weren't speaking. I could probably walk up to any number of women I presently do not speak with and ask them to marry me. I'd bet I'd get at least one "yes".

Still, I was nervous about asking but not nervous once that hurdle was overcome.

Long time readers of my globowebjournal are misspending their few days on earth but my also remember that The Qweenbean will be having a baby... in exactly a month according to the professionals. I am not nervous about that. There is some anxiety about our present "jobs" situation, I have a greater sense of urgency about finishing school and more intention about making our life of service more structured- perhaps even traditional, concerned about making time to complete the things that must be completed to make room for a baby, afraid I might forget important details from our baby-having class. But I'm not really nervous about any of that.

I am, however, completely, irrationally, horribly gripped by a paralyzing sense of terror.

When I was a kid I was terrified of sheer drops. I wasn't afraid of heights. I was afraid of precipices: cliffs, roof ledges, the front row of a stadium tier above the first, the extreme back row of a stadium level facing out- any extreme drop.

As I stand here (I am in fact standing at this moment) I do not feel as if I will fall one way or another. I am not worried that a gust of wind will blow me off balance or that some involuntary reflex will make me leap forward. I cannot recall ever in my life being possessed by the desire to simply hurl myself to the ground. But if I were standing at the edge of a 100 ft. drop, I would, when I was a kid, have had those fears. In the world of possibility, I suppose that anything can happen while standing at a ledge, so even now, as I am supposed to know better, I still tremble at ledges. It's not heights. I do all kinds of things that require I be high above the ground. It is drops.When I am at one level of stability, overlooking an extreme change to another- I am terrified.

This is perhaps like that terror. I am overwhelmed by the quantum change that is coming. I have these images of doing incredibly stupid and irrational things. Not like getting her Bratz Dolls, I mean really inexplicable and horrible things like not feeding her, forgetting her someplace, dropping her down the stairs. I worry about doing things that make no sense because I have no knowledge of what the world that is coming will be like. I have no choice but to proceed, but I have no way of knowing how to proceed because that world is completely foreign to me. I should be clearer. I move on, but the coming world is not a matter of choice. It doesn't matter that countless other human beings have done this- I haven't.

The way I know to be now is fine for this world in which the baby is safely (safely enough) out of sight. The way I know to be now may have nothing to do with how I will need to be once she is breathing my air... Our air.

I've never had to breathe our air. I wonder how it will compare to breathing my air.

I'm going to vomit.

Just Keep Swimming
Positively 4th Street- Bob Dylan
Without God I Could Do Nothing- Mahalia Jackson
We're Not Gonna Take It- The Who
Since I've Been Loving You- Led Zeppelin
New Feeling- Talking Heads

If It Wasn't So Long It Would Be Its Own Title

"For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this diary? For the future, for the unborn. His mind hovered for a moment round the doubtful date on the page, and then fetched up with a bump against the Newspeak word doublethink. For the first time the magnitude of what he had undertaken came home to him. How could you communicate with the future? It was of its nature impossible. Either the future would resemble the present, in which case it would not listen to him: or it would be different from it, and his predicament would be meaningless."